Page 118 of His Fatal Love

“Mine,” I hiss, and hearing my name from him is enough to push me over. I bury my face in the crook of his neck as I fill him up, mark my claim with clenched teeth and harsh pants.

My rhythm falters, my cock aching happily as I push in one last time, wanting to stay in him as long as possible, and I wrap my arms around him tight. I don't want to let him go, don't want to let reality sneak back in and take his mind away from me.

But eventually he wriggles around, making me release him. He goes into the bathroom to clean up, and then I make a quick trip, too, and we reconvene in bed, where he lets me hug him close again, lets me make him little spoon. I press a kiss against his shoulder and he sighs contentedly.

“I love you, too, by way,” I murmur. “If that wasn't clear.”

“You’re sure?”

I almost laugh, but he sounds so uncertain, I stifle the urge. “Hundred percent. I love you, Julianus Aurelius Castellani. You’re mine. Forever.”

He doesn’t reply, but I can see his face, reflected in the dark window. He looks…puzzled?

“You okay?” I ask, kissing his shoulder again.

“Yes,” he says, but his expression in the window doesn’t change.

I close my eyes, pulling him tight against me. “Get some sleep. We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.”

But in the dawn hours I shake awake, a dream throwing me out of unconsciousness and into reality again. My heart hammers as the dream fades—I was running somewhere, looking for Julian—and my next thought is that I’ve woken him, woken Julian. But when I reach out, my fingers find nothing but cold sheets where he should be.

“Julian?” I call out, my voice hoarse with sleep. There’s no response. But my place isn’t that big.

It takes me less than thirty seconds to confirm that Julian Castellani is no longer in my apartment.

CHAPTER48

LEO

The stenchof sweat and cheap liquor greets me as I push open the door to The Cellar. It’s a home, a refuge from the chaos outside, where I can sink into the background, forget about being the Bernardi Enforcer. But tonight, my mind is on one thing only: Julian Castellani.

It didn’t feel great waking up to an empty bed, but after I worked through my feelings a little, I could understand it. Julian is probably overwhelmed. We said things to each other last night that—true and right though they were—weren’t the kind of things I’d ever said to another man, and I’m pretty fucking confident Julian’s never said them, either.

Or not said them andmeantthem.

But he hasn’t been in contact all day, and I was hoping I’d find him at The Cellar tonight. He’s not here, though. And Rachel, when I raised my eyebrows in a wordless question as I entered, shook her head.

Julian can handle himself. That’s one thing I’m damn sure of. But I can’t think where else might go, and I’ve got nowhere else to be. So I sit and I wait.

And I drink, trying to smash the sense of unease rising up in me.

As the bourbon flows down my throat, things start to get a little hazy. Memories of Julian claw at me—the curve of his lips when he smiles, the cold steel in his eyes when he kills. He’s ruthless, cold, emotionless, and I’ve fallen for him, drawn to the darkness inside him like a moth to a black flame.

But where the hell is he?

I’m starting to get worried. He’s on the run, after all. Not just from his brother, but from Anna-Vittoria and her shady Family, and hell, if someone’s put a bounty out on him…

Fear takes hold and I stand up, swaying a little, fear struggling with the amount of booze I’ve sunk tonight.

There’s nowayJulian wouldn’t have been in touch by now.

I’m a fucking moron for not seeing that sooner.

I drag myself out of the booth just as a strange hush falls over the bar, followed by the clatter of chairs scraping, feet pounding. I look up with a bleary blink, and have to blink again a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

Sandro Castellani and his right-hand man, Johnny Jacopo, are standing there in the middle of the floor, staring at me.

Shit.