Page 43 of Blood Lust

True, I hadn’t called out to her because after what had happened, combined with her not answering, I didn’t know who might be there. My circle of trust had rapidly shrunk.

Which was probably why when I’d caught her in my private room during my search of the penthouse, I’d snapped. Not that it made my response any less irrational.

The fear that had been burning in my chest when I couldn’t find her had stolen my breath and squeezed my chest until I thought my heart would quit beating.

When I glanced at my hands, I wondered if the dried blood by my nails was from her foot or if I’d missed it when I cleaned up earlier after the ambush.

“I needed to find an outlet that kept me from doing worse,” I reluctantly admitted. “I also needed to have somewhere safe to do it. I had the old gym that used to be there moved into one of the spare rooms and had that one outfitted for a destruction room.”

“Does it help?” she asked.

Lifting my gaze to hers, I huffed a humorless laugh.

“Somewhat.” It was really just enough to keep everything at bay. It kept a balance between my conscience and the darkness. I couldn’t afford to let either overtake me or I was as good as dead. “It’s either that or fuck my way through it, and I have to be careful with that too.” The last thing I wanted to do was bring a child into the world with a woman I wasn’t ready to make my wife.

In this life, a bastard child would always be considered lesser, no matter how much I might love it. Like Charlie. Though I loved him more than I had words to express, he would never be a De Luca, as Francesco hadn’t married Viviana.

Francesco didn’t love her, and I knew it drove the girl crazy because she’d been head over heels for him. Then Viviana hadn’t put Francesco’s last name on the birth certificate because they’d been fighting when she gave birth and filled out the paperwork.

It was a tumultuous couple of years after Charlie was born. Francesco and Viviana tried to make things work, then realized they couldn’t, and that always ended with them fighting over Charlie. Before anything could be changed, Francesco had died, followed by Viviana.

It wasn’t that my parents didn’t adore Charlie—they simply lived too far away. And regardless of how society had evolved, certain things with La Cosa Nostra never would. Charlie wasn’t a De Luca.

She slowly shook her head as she stared at me with pity that I hated. She shouldn’t feel sorry for me. It was my fault Charlie didn’t have parents—Francesco had been killed trying to protect me.

And I’d probably never forgive myself for that.

“Don’t. I don’t want your pity.”

“Then what do you want from me?” she asked as she held the sides of my head.

What I wanted, I couldn’t ask for because I didn’t know if I could give her back what she deserved. Because I didn’t know that I was truly capable. That thought was sobering and made my brother’s words come back to me. It had me wondering what the fuck I was doing.

“Just be with me,” I finally whispered and laid my weakness bare. “Don’t leave me.”

“Okay,” she whispered back.

That one simple word sent elation through me, and I surged to my feet. Slanting my mouth over hers, I speared my fingers into her hair, tilting her head to give me better access.

She opened her soft lips, and I thrust my tongue into her mouth the way I wanted to drive my cock into her pussy. I wanted to bury myself inside her body and never leave. Sometimes I felt like if I could exist with only her, leaving all my worries and responsibilities behind, I would.

That wasn’t me or my life, however. I lived in a brutal and hungry world. Which meant I would kill for her… level this city for her… burn it to the fucking ground.

And in that, I knew I had been wrong in my earlier thoughts. I might not be capable of love, but she had become vital to me.

As I clutched her to my body so tightly that I worried she might not be able to breathe, I wanted her—here. Now.

“I need you,” I admitted in a rushed whisper against her kiss-swollen lips.

“Yes,” she eagerly replied as she pressed her tits against me and held my jaw in her hand.

She wrapped her legs around me, and I lifted her. Heart thudding madly, I carried her back down the hall, ignoring the smears of her blood on the tiles. I pushed my door open and carried her to the bed.

Before I could set her down, she wiggled free and stood in front of me.

“Your foot—” I started, but she pressed a finger over my lips.

“Its fine,” she assured me, and then she slowly removed every stitch of her clothing. My mouth went dry as I watched.