37. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Olivia
I never thought I would feel safe. When death has been stalking you most of your life, you learn to accept the shadows of it, the darkness that comes with the knowledge of living on a knife’s edge. Feeling Alessandrio’s furred and heavily muscled arm slung over my waist, I feel at ease. I wonder how the back of this van contains us, contains all our history and all of our passion. Both satiated and exhausted, he fell onto the mattress beside me, eventually mustering enough energy to get up and close the doors before pulling me to him. I should be cold, would be cold, if I didn’t share this small space with him. Darkness enveloped us when the sun finally made its descent, and the van is pitch black inside and out now.
A low rumble cracks the silence. Mortified, I cover my stomach as if I can muffle the sounds of my hunger and need for food, my fingers brushing against claws and fur.
“Hungry are we?” How can a voice be both rough and smooth at the same time?
“Humiliated more like it.” A soft chuckle stirs the hair on my neck.
“I worked you well. I would expect nothing less than for you to have worked up an appetite.” I appreciate the darkness and its ability to hide my heated cheeks.
He did work me, in ways I had never thought I wanted to be worked in. What he did, what we did, I have little to compare him to, but I know he doesn’t stay inside the box. Alessandrio Greco doesn’t just push my boundaries, he shreds them with those vicious claws. The monster in question shifts behind me, but the arm over my hip never leaves its place as a small light blooms in the blackness—his phone’s flashlight—and I wince. I wiggle from beneath his arm to drag my running shorts and thong up from their place around my mid thighs.
“Shame,” he purrs before sitting up and opening the back doors.
I hiss as the crisp night air chases away any residual warmth. He lets out a sharp curse before reaching in and plucking me into his arms like I weigh nothing more than a feather. I have zero complaints as his warmth envelopes me and I wrap my arms around his massive shoulders as he walks me around to the front of the van. Even with me in his arms, he is agile and sure with his movements, opening the passenger door and placing me on the seat before putting my seat belt on. This show of care should surprise me, and then he climbs into his own seat, turning the engine on and aiming all the vents in my direction before turning up the heat. He is so fucking unpredictable.
We need to talk. I know we need to talk, and yet a warm sense of comfort envelopes me as he drives me home. When we finally pull down into the underbelly of the hotel, I’m almost relieved to see the place. I let out a low laugh of disbelief at that and feel heavy eyes on my profile. Unbuckling myself and climbing out of the van before he can assist me, I run to the elevator and viciously stab the button. Today’s fear was like a shroud, the sex was a distraction, and now there are so many things I feel still need to be said. And from his heavy silence, I know he too feels the weight of it.
“Go and get in the tub. I’ll get us some food.” It’s not an order, just a firm nudge as we emerge into his apartment once more.
Feeling his eyes follow me across the living room, I make my way to my bedroom and start a bath before stripping off my running clothes. Running in the woods at Ironwood was my medicine, a salve to my anxious state, and now Alessandrio Greco has ruined that too. Because I highly doubt I will ever enjoy running in the woods again, if I am not pursued by two hundred and fifty pounds of pure monster intent on fucking me senseless. I catch my image in the mirror over the vanity. My cheeks are still pink with the warmth of the van, ponytail still intact except for a few more wisps curling around my neck and face. What are you doing? How the fuck did I get here? Aching deliciously in all the right places, from the man who is also a monster that is getting me dinner. A monster who killed my father and murdered another man in front of me today. I watch my reflection’s eyes grow wider. Has there ever been a more confused human being on the face of this earth?
Unable to look at myself anymore, I hiss as I step into the hot bath, my feet adjusting to the warmth as I slowly lower myself down. Steam coats my skin, the water soothing some aches left in his wake. With a growing headache, I rest my head on the lip of the tub and force myself to focus on my breathing instead of the churning mix of contrasting emotions and feelings. I hear the door creak before his shadow and features emerge over me. His eyes burn blue, and it’s like we are both ensnared, invisible strings forcing our gazes together.
“I will talk. You will listen and try to remain open-minded.” Something clinks against the tiled side of the tub, a plate filled with food that makes my stomach grumble in response.
“And if I have questions?” A half smile twists his face.
“Try to save it for after.” He points at the food. “Now eat.”
He sits beside the bath, his massive body folding up to rest his back against the cupboards of the vanity. I eat, his gaze never leaving me as he settles himself. I quirk a brow when he doesn’t speak, and he offers me a grim smile, the sight of that tight-lipped line making me wish for some of his usual wicked glint.
“You may lose your appetite,” he says simply.
Fear seeps back in. Not fear at him, fear of the things he is about to tell me. The things that seem to hang in the air between us, shadows of things that need to be spoken about. I eat the sandwich he made me and the chicken, not really tasting any of it, with all the thoughts rattling in my head and his unnerving eyes on me the entire time. When I am done, he removes the plate from the bath and places it beside him on the tiles. I see the strain on his face, even beneath the fur and the savage beauty of him. The way he rolls his neck, those horns very close to catching on the wood behind him.
“I don’t need to tell you about the Mafia’s history. But what I will tell you is how our history collides. The very dark truths that only a few people know. As you know, I am a second son. My father reared me for one thing and one thing only: to protect the family, protect Emilio’s interests and keep him alive, even at the cost of my life.” The sharpness of his jaw tenses as he begins to lay it all bare to me and I am riveted by him, riveted by the twist in my chest at his reality. “Emilio was always set to take over from our father. I think Emilio was content for our father to rule over our family for years to come. It’s difficult making decisions when so much is at stake and I see the toll it takes on him. But something shattered our peace. We still don’t know how they gained access to our family home. Our father didn’t know he was in danger. The guards were light that night, only two. Both had their throats slit, undoubtedly silent deaths to not draw his attention.”
I swallow hard at that, full stomach roiling.
“They must have caught him by surprise because he was only in his underwear when we found him the next day. Bits of his flesh had been carved away from his thighs, his arms and his chest.”
I feel myself blanch and, to my surprise, one of those claw tipped hands snakes over the side of the tub to reach for my own. His furred fingers, long and strong, curl around mine as if to offer some of his strength.
“Torture. They tortured him. We think for access to our family files, our bank accounts, our businesses, everything that makes the Greco family one of the strongest in New York. The Dolmino line had been struggling with the influx of other organized groups moving into territories. The Russians are a fucking problem. I can only think that your father and brother thought if they could kill the Greco line, they would consume our territories to mitigate their own losses. Unlucky for them, they underestimated our hunger for revenge. No one kills a Don, especially one of such a powerful family, and gets away with it. We kidnapped all of them, plucked them right off the street in an executed move against the entire family.”
I see now the bitter hatred in his eyes as they become distant, reliving the moment in his head right now.
“We took them to one of our warehouses and executed them one by one. Your father’s wife had her last say, an evil woman with a witch’s tongue.” He gestures to his face with his free hand, emphasizing the results. “Your brother is a crafty snake. He knew we were coming and saw an opportunity. I can only assume he didn’t warn your father about our coming retribution because he wanted us to do his dirty work for him and remove the last man in his way of true power. Riccardo just didn’t realize that our revenge would take his beloved mother and exorcise this world of the rest of those Dolmino demons.”
“Did you kill my father?” The words are hard to get out around the stone in my throat.
“Yes.” He says it so simply, so coldly, as if he would do it again, even now.
I don’t even realize I am crying until I taste the salt on my tongue. How can we ever possibly be? With so much death between us, how can we ever have anything beyond this tainted curiosity?
“I read your file.” Cold dread slides down my spine, his words making me straighten. “Your father played a part in your mother’s death.”
“You don’t know that,” I spit, twisting my hand from his.
I shoot out of the water, icy dread turning into panic as the old memories threaten to spill over. Alessandrio moves, that same agility I was in awe of now making me want to scream in frustration as he catches me. The tiles slick from my wet body are a death trap, and his entire body encompasses me, muscles and fur curling around me.
“You don’t know that,” I whimper into his chest, the fur dampening from my tears.
“I do,” he says firmly. “I know all the telltale signs of a Mafia hit, Olivia. Your mother got tangled with the wrong man. She fell pregnant and had a baby that could threaten the heir of the Dolmino’s claim. I have no fucking doubt in my mind that there were meant to be four bodies, not three.” His words feel like bullets, slamming into my body and ricocheting around my insides. “Someone covered it up, crooked police and your father most likely. You were not supposed to survive that hit and that is why you were in that fucking school. To keep them from you, not us, them. ”
I feel his finger curve against my skull, that powerful hand sliding to clamp around my ponytail and force my head back. His face is fearsome, more monster than man as I have ever seen him, dark rage tainting every feature.
“I will keep you safe from your brother, from anything that wants to hurt you. I cannot be your hero, but I will be your fucking villain, Olivia.”
My torn insides feel as though they could be knit back together and repaired as his words soothe some of this terrible pain.
Need overwhelms me, the desire to feel him on me, around me and inside of me. I rise onto my toes as I grip those powerful horns and wrench his face down to mine. He’s ready for me. Alessandrio Greco has been nothing but revelations, everything I thought he was turned on its head. When his mouth collides with mine, it’s firm but pliant, ready to let me take the lead—to take what I need. I lash his mouth, desperate to taste every corner, to wipe away every word and replace it with this—with us. I am lifted, my wet body sliding over fur and hard muscle until my thighs wrap easily around his narrow waist. Our mouths never part, never break pace, even as my naked back finds the softness of my bed and that same hard muscle presses against me. I moan, the sound swallowed by his own as his hard length presses against my heated core. Need. I need him so fucking bad.
I break the kiss, pushing him up and he obliges me, face a mask of his own need. My frantic hands shove at his sweatpants, releasing his hard and velvety length into my waiting palm. I stroke him once, twice, three times and his answering growl has me sliding him against my entrance. The tip of him finds me slick and ready. I can’t take my eyes off the place where we are about to join as I lift my hips higher and, in one smooth thrust, he fills me. My head falls back with my cry of pleasure. His face is so terrible, and yet beautiful as it hovers over me.
“I love the feel of you,” I whisper and watch his eyes flare. “This strength and all this softness.” I glide my hands over his hip to grip his ass. “I can weather your storms, Alessandrio Greco, if you can weather mine.”
“You are mine.” His words are vicious and possessive, a velvety palm caressing my cheek that makes my eyes flutter.
Blue sky, blue fire and blue forget-me-nots. The blue of Alessandrio Greco, the part of him the curse could not alter because of its perfection, has me lost as he moves his hips. At first I meet his thrusts, but as my pleasure builds, I lose all sense. I’m pleading, begging, and making incoherent sounds of pure pleasure as he carries me over the edge, eyes boring into mine, daring me to look away as he fucks me in a way that ensures I will never want another.