Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)

by Cora Reilly

Bloodshed was in my genes. All of my life, I’d fought this craving deep in my veins, had dimmed it with drugs and alcohol, but its call had always been present, an undercurrent in my body that threatened to pull me under.

Denying one’s nature was living a lie. Only drugs in all shapes and forms had made it possible in the past. No more.

“You want to race?” She smirked. “Quick thinking.”

I’m a Falcone, winning runs in my blood.” “Arrogance too?”

“Eventually, you’ll have to put the past to rest, Dinara, or it’s going to swallow you.”

But fuck, he looked all man, trouble and danger, how he lounged in his seat as if that was the place he was meant to be. His kingdom.

Children are supposed to forgive and forget the wrongdoings of their mother. They are supposed to love and cherish them despite their faults. But you Falcones aren’t about forgiveness, huh?”

“Cake before lunch? What kind of anarchy is this?” I asked, sinking down on one of the empty chairs between Fabiano and Savio. “Nevio’s wish. Anarchy is his middle name,” Fina said, rolling her eyes. “My wish too,” Greta said softly. Fina gave her daughter a patient smile. “Yours too, but we both know you always say yes to Nevio’s wishes.” “Not always,” Greta said even quieter. “Too often, mia cara,” Remo said, kissing her temple.

my BMW.

my romanca tumefiata brain reading that as 'my bemveu'

I’d just rather not die from consuming homemade Vodka. There are far more interesting ways to leave this planet.”

marihuana

maria ioana

“Adamo’s not the hero in this story. Nor are you or my father. I’ll be the hero in my story.”

I ran my palms up and down my thighs, lingering on familiar ridges high up. The siren’s call now rang in my blood. My dark craving was a strong opponent, my greatest foe, but also balm and friend in my hardest hours. He made the unbearable bearable, if only for a few hours.

“Maybe you want to be. But we are who we are. I am a Mikhailov and you are a Falcone. Our paths aren’t on the light side.” “That’s the Russian soul being melancholic.”

“Vodka is starting to grow on me. Maybe I have a thing for Russian delicacies.” I tilted my head toward him. “They are the best.” “I need proof.”

He tasted like sin and darkness, and he could kiss in a way I’d never considered possible.

I was in control of my mind and body, focusing on the tattoo on Adamo’s forearm, following its intricate lines broken by burn scars. The ugly and beautiful becoming one.

“You can lose control with me,” he murmured. “You’re safe.” I smiled wryly. You’re safe was something I’d been told before, but I wasn’t that girl anymore and Adamo wasn’t a demon from my past.

“Stay with me,” he ordered, then softer. “Stay.”

“Yes,” Adamo rumbled, his eyes appearing black in the darkness, like they belonged to the devil I’d made a pact with.

And if its darkness you harbor, I have more than enough of my own, so I don’t shy away from it.”

Before that day, I’d thought I was at Remo’s mercy and subject to his moods. But afterward, I realized how wrong I’d been. Remo never meant to hurt me. He took care of me in his own twisted way. It took being in the hands of the enemy to realize it.

“No matter where you go, you are never a nobody, Adamo. Even if you’re away from your brothers and Vegas, your name carries weight, like mine does. We carry our names as burden and shield. The only way for us to be anonymous is to take on a new name and become someone else.”

I ran my palm over her upper thighs and the thin scars there, a silent question. Dinara sighed, turning her face to the ceiling once more. “Sometimes we are our own worst enemy.”

“Don’t ever try to be good to people who hurt you. They don’t deserve it.”

“Nothing can break you unless you allow it. If you ever return to Vegas, you’ll get your chance to end it.”

“Become the nightmare even your worst nightmare fears, Ekaterina,” Remo said

“My daughter won’t ever set foot on Vegas ground again. I’ll make sure of it. Eventually, you’ll have to let me dish out my revenge.” “Dish out revenge on that scum in your trunk. The rest will have to wait for her.” “She won’t ever be touched by violence or darkness again, Falcone. I’ll protect her from it until my last breath.” “You can’t protect her from something that’s festering inside of her. Tell her what’s waiting for her. Let it be her choice.”

“Are you testing my loyalty?” “Should I?” Nino made a small impatient sound. “No loyalties need to be tested.”

“A look I usually only see in Remo’s eyes. The hunger for blood and violence. The need for death and destruction. As a baby and younger child, you looked exactly like Remo. And on occasion a similar temper would shine through.”

I thirsted for normalcy, even as my own nature often called for another direction. I wanted to be better, wanted to forgive instead of avenge, to sympathize instead of condemn. I could feel compassion unlike Nino and even Remo. That made my desire to torment others—even if they deserved it—so much worse.

Nino tortured because it was effective deterrence and punishment as well as a scientific challenge to prolong a victim’s death while causing maximum damage. Savio tortured because it was necessary evil in our business. Remo tortured because he enjoyed it, because for him it was linked with pure emotion… and for me it was the same.

“But I don’t think that’s why she spends every night with me. She and I both share a drug history. It’s like we’re connected on a deep, inexplainable level.” I shook my head with a grimace. “Fuck, I sound like a goddamn horoscope.” “You’re in love,” Kiara said, her eyes alight with amusement.

As if I was a broken puppet. Your favorite puppet that you took out to play every day but suddenly it had an irreparable crack, and now you can’t ever play with it again because you fear it might break apart if you do. So, you’ll put it on a shelf and hardly ever look at it because whenever you do, you’re sad about what you lost. That’s how you look at me, Adamo. So, go your merry way, I’ll survive.”

“I don’t pity the girl in front of me, Dinara. I pity that girl from the past. But you…you are tough as nails. You don’t need my fucking pity.”

“We’re not over,” he rasped. I nodded, breathing harshly. “We’re not.”

me.” “It’s such a burden to spend the night in a five-star hotel with a gorgeous redhead instead of having my family shove their noses in my business and ask me a million questions about you.”

“My sisters-in-law want to know all about you. A secret girl in my life has them all dying from curiosity.”

When I was with Adamo, I rarely longed for the rush of drugs that had haunted me for so many years. He was my drug of choice.

“Some people might see it as a virtue to refrain from killing.” “Those are usually people who’ve never seen the dark side of life, and tasted how good it can be if you bend it to your will.”

She danced barefoot under the sinking sun, her red hair aflame in the dimming glow. She was beautifully imperfect—imperfectly beautiful. She was laughter and lightness and happiness.

“Fake it till you make it,” she breathed then crashed her lips against mine.

“Dance with me. Help me forget tonight,” she rasped, her eyes almost feverish with despair. “Let’s just be us tonight. Not anyone’s daughter or brother. Let’s be in the moment. No past, no future.”

Adamo touched my cheek and I leaned into him. “We’ll figure out a way for you to move past this shit. Together.” I nodded. “Together.”

“There’s no place I’d rather be than at your side, even if it involves brutal revenge.”

“Fuck, we’re both twisted, you realize it, right?” “I made my peace with it,”

“Now I’m a bit freaked out.” “Bad enough to run away from me?” I murmured. In the past I’d always kept this part of me safely hidden, especially when I was around girls but even around my family. With Dinara, I felt as if I could finally reveal this twisted, morbid side of myself. “Never,” she said firmly,

“Don’t let this man drag you into the dark.” If anything, I was dragging Adamo into the dark. But even that didn’t ring quite true. It felt as if we were going this path as equals, hand in hand, driven by our demons.

“It’s not that I hate it or that it haunts me in nightmares, Dinara. I enjoy it too much, that’s the fucking problem. I relish in the act of causing others’ pain, at least when I think they deserve it. I wish it were different, but I’m messed up.

The roles have switched. You aren’t his victim. You will be his judge.”