Page 90 of Isle of Seduction
He doesn’t need to remove the cloth mask that hides his face.
A pathetic sob escapes my lips, and my knees buckle underneath me. I never touch the ground. He’s already here, holding me to him.
Andrea sits on the floor and cradles me to his chest. He pulls the mask off and his lips find my face, peppering my skin with featherlight kisses that patch the open wounds around my spirit. Not pressing me to him, he’s careful with my bleeding shoulder, and I let myself go; he’ll catch me.
“I was so scared, amore mio,” I whimper.
I cry for what feels like hours, my body shaking with the force of this energetic release I need, Andrea’s voice in my ear.
“Ti amo, guerrieritta. Non posso vivere senza di te.”
The little lilt of his timbre when he speaks Italian soothes the tears and warms the heart that threatened to break again at the hands of someone who didn’t deserve to come in contact with it in the first place.
When I’m calmer, I lift my gaze to meet his, the pain in his hazel eyes staring back at mine, distorted and amplified like through a broken mirror.
“Thank you,” I choke on the words. “I love you, amore.”
“I love you.” He repeats the words over and over.
The house is quiet save for a muffled sound that I vaguely understand to be Louis’s struggling against a gag. It reminds me of where we are and what I need to do right now.
“He’s yours, guerrieritta.”
I nod and kiss him, passion igniting inside me when I thought all that was left was cold ice. His lips yield to mine and let me control our rhythm. Andrea opens for me to let my tongue glide inside his mouth like it belongs here. Because it does.
This is where I belong.
This is who I belong to.
Despite what I just survived, I want him; I need his skin on mine and for him to remind me who I am.
When our lips part, my resolve is iron-clad and the flash of bloodlust in his eyes tell me I’m not with Andrea, the love of my life, but Andrea Capaldi, leader of West Hill and reaper of souls. And he’ll just hold my hand while I exact my revenge.
He helps me stand and we walk into the living room where the table and chairs are upturn. Louis struggles against his bindings, but can’t move an inch nor speak. Good, I don’t want to hear the sound of his voice anymore.
“You need us?” a man I don’t know asks Andrea.
“Not for this next part. Stay on hold and call for a doctor to be on site when we’re done.”
His eyes dip to my shoulder with concern. My eyes haven’t left Louis who’s watching me with venom and hate clear on his face. He can’t possibly understand how anything he throws at me will never compare to what I feel for him.
The other men leave but not before they set Louis on a chair with more rope around his legs and arms. Except for a gash on his brow, he’s unharmed and that pisses me off.
I didn’t notice until now that I’m still clutching the little knife in my hand. I don’t hesitate when I stab Louis in the left shoulder, a mirror to the wound he inflicted on me. His shrill is music to my ears and my smile grows, bloodlust pouring inside my veins and infecting me.
“Is that what you want, guerrieritta?” Andrea asks at my back, his breath fanning on the side of my neck, cooling me down until bloodlust and peace coexist in perfect harmony.
“Yes. You’re going to pay, you fucking son of a bitch.”
Louis shuffles in his restraints, his eyes wild with anger. His dire situation hasn’t registered yet. Adrenaline is delaying the pain. He doesn’t see me as a threat yet. His eyes are trained on me, Andrea barely registering in his brain.
I wrench the knife away and blood pours while Louis lets out another muffled cry. I stab his other shoulder. And wrench the weapon away again. I stab his right thigh. Remove the knife. The left. Remove.
I lose sense of time and space, every moment bleeding into the next.
My chest heaves with the effort, the adrenaline wearing down, but I’m not satisfied. I’ve barely scratched the surface of my pain, barely exacted the revenge I need to fully quiet the grief gnawing at my insides.
Andrea’s arms encircle me, and the comforting scent of bitter oranges fills my nose. “Take a breath with me. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.”