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The fire in my chest burned hotter, stealing my goddamn breath. Where pain usually hit me like the high of a drug, whenever Gianna Russo—or, sorry, now Marino—was involved, it felt like the comedown. Nauseating. It felt fucking bitter.
“That, Sasha, is when I obsess.”
Sometimes, it was euphoric—blood-pumping, heart-racing, top-of-the-world euphoria. Like sex, without the emptiness. Sometimes, it was a means to an end. One line, and every insecurity, every bruise, faded to memory. One line, and I’d be free. Other times, it was a cold draft of air and the squeak of a steel door as it slammed shut before me.
For the love of God, he was only a fed. I’d dealt with Made Men since birth.
If I went with him, I’d end up sold into a human trafficking ring and never be heard from again. Fed or not, with those eyes and presence, this man had seen and done things a normal Made Man hadn’t envisioned. I remained silent.
Some women didn’t know what was good for them.
And just like that, the apprehension from the way he’d looked into my eyes like I was a human being, not a body, drifted away, and he was now only a man. One who judged me, wanted something from me—
I hated tall men, how they were always looking down on me, always looming over me like a cloud blocking out the sun. Large men had ruled since the beginning of time, and at that moment, as I grasped steel bars and looked up into blue eyes, I’d never felt a stronger truth.
My skin felt soft to the touch, but twenty-one years had hardened it beneath the surface. Their words, jeers, and whistles bounced off into the abyss, where bruises went to die.
“Does he love you?” He asked it indifferently, as if it shared the same merit as my favorite color. Nonetheless, the question hit me like a blow to the stomach.
His eyes were what nightmares were made of, ice and fire, and filled with secrets no one wanted to know. He could only pass as normal because of his too-handsome face—otherwise, he’d be locked up somewhere, the world seeing him for what he really was. Dirty.
The sins of the night never did sound so good in the day.
“You want to know why I don’t touch you?” I shook my head. “Because if I did, I wouldn’t stop. Not until I’d snuffed out that pretty fire in your eyes.” His gaze flashed. “Don’t shut yourself in a room with me again, Gianna.”
He left, but his warning stayed behind.
He ran a thumb across my cheek. “You won’t forget me.”
Unfortunately, loneliness still thrived in the light.
We were so close I could smell his aftershave, count his eyelashes. The barest inch lay between our lips.
“You won’t forget me.”
His eyes were dark and terrifying; a reflection of skies lit up with smoke and fire. His lips pressed against my ear, words rough and threatening. “Run home to your husband before I make him a widower.”
“If you ran, Gianna . . .” The words were malicious yet somehow as soft and desperate as sex in a war-torn field. He pressed his lips to my ear. “I would find you.”
Kissing Christian Allister made me feel more alive than any drug ever could.
“Selfish?” He laughed. “I ate your pussy for so long last time I can still taste you three years later.”
“All of it, malyshka,” he commanded.
She’d be in my home, in my bed. I’d give her anything she wanted—anything but my past and some silly notion of love.
Maybe I was courting the devil, though no one had ever warned me the devil would feel so good.
He laughed. It was a deep sound, like the first rays of warmth after a long winter. I liked it.
“Moya zvezdochka.
Longing. Longing to be the subject of a look that intense. A look full of something so raw and vehement it could make anyone a believer.
“Voy kak volk, malyshka.” Howl like a wolf. Her soft eyes flicked to me. They burned a small hole in my chest. “Voy kak volk,” she whispered. She’d said it right.
And I suddenly knew I was going to keep her.
“I’m going to ruin every part of your body for any other man, malyshka, and you’re going to thank me when I’m done.”
I was making a deal with the devil. And I couldn’t even find the grace to save myself.
How could I say every strand was mine any clearer than washing it every goddamn night?
Because it felt like if I didn’t have my possession of her in writing, she’d slip from my fingers again. I was all in, had known this obsession would only escalate once I’d had her body, her attention, and her smiles all to myself.
When you’re obsessed with something for so long and finally obtain it? It feels like coming home to God. And nobody gives up their fucking spot in Heaven.
No sunlight came in through the window, but the room was still lit. He’d left the bathroom door open and the light on, like I did every night. The thoughtfulness made my heart feel heavy in my chest.
“Because you’re mine.”
“We’ll figure the rest out. But I’m not letting you go.”
“There are plenty of women who could make you happier, Christian.” “You’re the only one I want.”
“Because it’s always been you.”
I couldn’t force Gianna to marry me. I wanted—needed—to be different than the other men in her life.
“I told you, I would run.” “And I told you, I would find you.”
His tone was dark. “You know this is where you belong, Gianna.”
“How about because I love you, Gianna? Because I think I have since the moment I saw you? Because if you weren’t in this world anymore, I would find a way to take myself out of it?”
“I meant every goddamn word I said.”
I slid down the bathroom door, staring at two pink lines.
tighten. I suddenly knew this was the only man I wanted to do this with. Happiness pinged off the walls of my chest, leaving me feeling raw.
There wasn’t much I liked to do more than watch them together.
The thought of Gianna and Kat never existing without me in the picture wasn’t possible.
