Chapter 16
16
LUCA
W hen we arrived at the cemetery, I thought she was going to run again. Her body went tight, and her eyes darted toward mine, although she didn’t betray much emotion. Still, it was obvious from the way her breathing changed, her chest rising and falling as if her breathing had turned panicked, even though she still tried to smile, as if she were trying to diffuse her emotions. So that she wouldn’t piss me off.
I liked that, to be honest.
“I’m not burying you,” I promised her. What a waste that would be. “I own the caretaker’s house.”
Her gaze shifted toward me. She licked her lips. “Your friend. Is he all right?”
“What friend?” The question surprised me.
I drove slowly off the concrete path and up the white gravel to the caretaker’s house. It was tucked away at the edge of the cemetery, where we were surrounded by nothing but graves to one side and to the deep depth of the National Forest behind.
“The one who can’t talk.” And then, as if it were necessary to provide any more detail, she added, “Dante.”
She believed that he was mute. Well, that was for the best. Everyone was happier when Dante didn’t talk.
“Are you worried he didn’t survive the firefight?” I was genuinely curious. I hadn’t thought she’d interacted with him enough to care. Unless there was some part of her that already saw through our ruse.
“I was curious,” she corrected. “You are friends, aren’t you? I saw you talking. And you were together when you kidnapped me from the club.”
I scoffed. “I am not kidnapping you. You were not where you belonged.”
“I don’t belong anywhere,” she said.
You belong with me .
But that would be insane to admit, so I would save that thought for later. When she gave in to my insanity.
“It’s just interesting to me that you would ask if Dante was safe and alive, and you wouldn’t ask about Royal or your father.”
She looked out the window and didn’t answer me.
Dusk was falling.
I hadn’t answered her question, but she didn’t push any further for an answer. I liked to keep Dante as a surprise.
“Would you come along with me like a good girl?” I asked her. “No fighting, no drama.”
She gave me a look, her lower lip beginning to wobble.
It was bullshit. I didn’t think she was really afraid. I thought she was trying to manipulate me. For now, I pretended to ignore her tears, even though they made me furious.
I hated tears. They reminded me of my mother, who had dissolved into tears whenever it benefited her. They were never genuine, but they had always made me weak as a boy. I’d rushed to fix things, rushed to make her happy.
Celia let out a little cry of pain, and I stopped to look back at her. She was standing awkwardly on the side of her foot, as if she had just rolled her ankle. She looked pathetic, with her tears leaving dark mascara tracks down her cheeks. She blotted her tears with the heel of her hand, but it was ineffective, since she was still blubbering away. There seemed to be an endless fountain of tears.
Abruptly, she dropped to sit on the lush green lawn. Beyond her, there were acres of tombstones leading down to the black wrought iron fences that framed the cemetery, and the sky was darkening, the last of the horizon streaked pink and red.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“My heel broke.” Her fingers were frantically working the delicate straps on her high heels, and she pulled it off and flung it away from her as if it were a snake, with a frown as if she had been personally betrayed by the Louboutins.
I took a step toward her, ready to pick her up and carry her. Was she really hurt?
She yanked off the other heel and got to her feet. Her lower lip was pudging out, as if she were pouting. If she hadn’t been crying, it would’ve made me want to bite her lower lip, which was soft and red and kissable. Her chin rose defiantly as she faced me, as if she could read my intentions and wanted me to know she didn’t need me.
Except she did, of course.
She would die without me.
CELIA
Going with him in the car had been the logical choice. Going into that house? That was not a logical choice. For right now, I wasn’t tied up or chained. It was obvious that he was not loyal to my father, and he certainly wasn’t loyal to me.
I glanced at him through teary eyes. I’d rubbed them away with the heel of my hand, probably smearing my once perfect makeup.
The tears were real. When I told the story later to Moriah, Natalie, and Kara, assuming that I survived, I would rewrite them into an attempt to manipulate him. But the truth was that I felt terrified and overwhelmed, and worst of all, there had been this crazy, stupid part of me that had actually wanted to trust him.
The house loomed in front of us. It was a large white house with a spreading front porch. Colorful flowers in pots lined the steps leading up to the porch. A swing hung on the porch, piled with a few blue cushions and a blanket. It looked oddly familiar in a way, as if I had seen it before, and I wracked my brain. Luca didn’t give me the impression of a man who did much decorating. How the hell had he come to own this house? Had he killed whoever it really belonged to?
Who had Luca buried in this cemetery? I caught myself glancing over my shoulder at the rows of tombstones that marched down the hill from us over the perfect green lawn. I was sure that he had buried bodies amongst those gravestones that didn’t belong.
He wasn’t going to bury my body here. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my body. The sudden fierce defiance that surged through me was all false bravado. But that was all I had right now. I was going to lean into it.
I let out a little sob, faking now, so that he would think I was lost in my grief and fear. Meanwhile, I searched for anything I could use as a weapon. The world had a hazy glow through my tears, but I catalogued and rejected item after item. Potted trees flanking the doorway. Bronze watering can on the steps.
We reached the base of the stairs. Not much further now until we would reach the door. Once it closed behind me, I’d be sealed away from the world. We were already so isolated that I didn’t think anyone would hear me screaming. But if I could get away, I could try to get through the tombs and down to the road. I should be able to find some kind of help.
Now that we were at the base of the stairs, I could see that tucked into one corner of the porch were a few pots, a bag of potting soil, and a trowel.
Behind the pots, there was even a shovel, with new clods of dirt hanging on the edge. Fear bit into my stomach.
Had that shovel been used recently to dig a grave? And did it already hold the person it was dug for…or had it been dug for me?
“Are you sure we’ll be safe here?” I asked with a little sob in my voice.
“No one’s gonna find you, starlight.” His voice was soft, reassuring. But I was not particularly reassured. I didn’t like the idea of never being found once I vanished into his home.
I crossed the porch in a few quick strides and grabbed the shovel.
He was at the door, unlocking it, and he turned to me only when he heard the sound of my feet as I rushed across the porch to him.
His eyes widened with surprise as he took me in. I must have looked wild. With my lips parted in a feral growl, my face blotchy from crying and my mascara smeared across my cheeks. I must have looked like a nightmare.
Too late, he tried to raise his arm to block the blow. But I was already slamming the shovel across the side of his face. He let out a ragged sound of pain as he sagged, falling against the door. His body collapsed against it, but he was still reaching out for me, so I slammed him across the head with the shovel a second time.
He crumpled to the ground.
If it had been Royal or my father, I wouldn’t have stopped then. I would have kept hitting him with the shovel until his head was bashed in like a watermelon. But there had been those times that he’d seemed decent. That was the only thing that caused me to turn and run then, instead of hitting him until I knew for sure he could never get up again.
I kept the shovel in my hand that he might have used to bury me. And I ran down amongst the tombstones. It felt so heavy, as if it were slowing my steps.
Night had fallen. I raced desperately through the tombstones, finally dropping the shovel when it hit the ground and made me stumble.
I stopped behind one of the tombstones, and tried to catch my breath. The road still seemed so far away.
And when I looked at the fence in the distance, I saw that the gates were closed. My heart pounded wildly in my chest. Who the hell had closed the gates? Was it automatic? Had he been able to close them with a click of a button or had they closed at a certain time of night?
Or was there someone else here in the cemetery who was helping him?
The cold stone of the gravestone behind my back seemed to sink through my thin blouse. Carefully, I peeked around the edge of the stone, looking back toward the house. Everything seemed so quiet. I didn’t see any motion in the graveyard, coming up toward me from the fences or coming down from the house.
From here, I couldn’t quite see the front door through the railing of the fence. I couldn’t tell if he was there, still sprawled out and bleeding, or not.
He shouldn’t be able to get up again yet. Maybe he would never get up again. I couldn’t be sure how badly I had hurt him.
That would probably haunt me later. Maybe he hadn’t deserved to be whacked with a shovel.
Twice.
But maybe he did.
I sprinted between the gravestones, my breath ragged and my heart pounding. The falling dusk cast long, eerie shadows over the dead.
The iron fence loomed ahead of me. I reached it, my fingers curling around the cold metal. The metal spikes at the top were terrifying, but not worse than the fate that waited behind me if Luca had gotten up or if someone else was working with him and was coming after me.
But it didn’t matter. My bare feet couldn’t find purchase on the slick metal of the vertical bars, and the horizontal bars were few and far between. My fingers slipped off the metal, and I landed back in the grass.
As I scrambled to my feet, I looked around frantically, the world a dark blur at the edges of my vision, as if all my instincts had taken over. As if I were prey.
Down the length of the fence, the gate’s outline was just barely visible in the night. The gates were closed. Maybe I could find a way through, or maybe not, but either way it was the most obvious place to run. It might be a beacon for whoever was hunting me.
Going there was a straight shot to hell if Luca—or anyone working with him—was waiting. I couldn’t risk it; not after I’d struck him with that shovel. The image of his body lying motionless flashed in my mind, but I pushed it away. I had to keep moving.
I darted around the tombstones. I needed to reach the forest behind the house. Maybe the fence ended there, or there’d be some other way out. For now, I just needed to get to those trees.
As I wove between the graves, my ears strained for any sound out of place. At first, all I heard was the rustling of leaves and my own frantic footsteps.
Then, something else—softer, stealthier—reached my ears. I prayed they were just animal noises, but deep down, I knew better. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in a primal warning.
Fear gripped me, cold but…tangled with something more uncertain. The confusion of being hunted by someone I was undeniably drawn to tightened around my chest. I tried to focus on escape, but the thought of him, his touch, his scent, it all mingled with my terror, creating a twisted knot of emotions I couldn’t untangle.
Of course, if there was whatever flare of desire between us that I might’ve used to soften his intentions toward me? I’d probably snuffed that out when I slammed the shovel into his head.
I ducked behind a moss-covered tombstone. I tried desperately to slow my breathing, which seemed like a loud, harsh sound that could be heard all across the cemetery. My fear turned the statues into a thousand silent sentinels watching my every move, any of which could turn out to be a vengeful Luca as soon as I turned my back.
Mausoleums loomed amongst the stones like little houses, their windows blank. Maybe I could hide until it was safe to escape through the gates. I made a beeline for the nearest one.
The heavy iron door of the mausoleum was unmovable. A shiver raced down my spine as I gave up, my fingers flattening on the cold metal.
I could feel someone watching me. Or maybe that was just my terrified imagination, conjuring up Luca alive and well and stalking after me. Instead of laying in a pool of his own blood flooding across the wooden floorboards of the front porch. Maybe he was right behind me, and I couldn’t help but twist to look over my shoulder.
The graveyard was silent. Night seemed to be falling fast, and there was little sound but the wind rustling the grass and the spreading trees that broke up the tombstones.
Guilt twisted in my gut, mingled with the strange ache of desire that Luca seemed to provoke.
Maybe my best chance of reaching the woods was to move slowly but stay low, out of sight. I crouched lower, my hands brushing over the dew-damp grass as I crawled toward another mausoleum.
This one looked older, the stone angels that adorned its walls chipped and broken. I listened for footsteps as I moved as silently as I could, my knees pressing into the damp earth.
My fingers found the latch. It lifted. Relief flooded through me—but it was short-lived as the mausoleum door creaked open. The sound seemed to split the night.
I scrambled to my feet, ready to plunge into the darkness for cover, when I felt his presence, close enough to send a jolt of panic through my veins.
His arm wrapped my waist as hard muscle pressed my back.
The door slammed shut in front of me again as he pulled it shut.
Luca .
His body pressed up against mine, trapping me against the door.
The scent of his clean aftershave and the iron tang of fresh blood wrapped around me as his weight fell against me, trapping me there.
“Hello, starlight,” he murmured into my ear.
My heart hammered in my chest, a frantic drumbeat echoing the fear that coursed through me. Every instinct screamed to run, to fight, but I was frozen, caught between the terror of being found and the conflicting thrill that zipped along my nerves at his closeness.
His hand slid up the curve of my back, a whisper of contact. “You’re trembling,” Luca murmured, his breath hot against my ear. I hated how that simple observation made my heart race even faster, igniting a shameful warmth in my belly.
“Let go of me,” I managed to choke out, but my voice was just a wisp.
He let out a soft breath of laughter, a dark, menacing sound. Instead of complying, he spun me around with easy strength, pinning me against the cold door.
My eyes darted away, not wanting to see his face, to fall into the trap of those intense eyes. But it was impossible not to stare at the blood soaking his shirt.
“Look at me, Celia.” His command was soft, dangerously inviting, and utterly inescapable. His fingers closed around my wrist, firm and unyielding, lifting my hand toward the rugged planes of his face. Reluctantly, my gaze followed, drawn to the red wound across his temple, the blood in his dark hair.
“You’ve made me very cross with you,” he said, his voice low and steady. The threat in his words sent a shiver down my spine. “Running away after what you did? You’ve been a bad girl.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as dust. His thumb brushed against my pulse, feeling it hammer beneath my skin.
“How do you think I should punish you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his lips curling into a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Fear twisted inside me, knotting with the unwanted arousal that betrayed my desperation to escape.
Luca pulled his knife from his pocket. I let out a small sound of fear, and his gaze shot to mine. I couldn’t quite read his face.
I tried to push past him. His hard body pressed me back into the door, his weight strangling my cry in my chest. His hands gathered my wrists in one big hand and pinned them above my head.
Then the cool edge of the blade was against my cheek. I thought it was the flat side of the knife, but I couldn’t be sure. Every bit of my attention was on him, on the way his gaze fixed on mine as he slowly caressed me with the knife—down my cheek, my throat, my heaving chest as I tried desperately to breathe.
The knife dipped between the swell of my breasts.
A brutal tug, and fabric tore against my skin. I gasped, feeling the cool night air brush my bare flesh. Luca’s hands no longer held me captive; instead, he took a step back as my dress fell to the ground. He regarded me in my bra and underwear, and need flared in his gaze.
“You wanted to run,” he growled, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “ Run .”
My feet moved before my mind caught up, sinking into the soft, damp ground.
I chanced a look back. Luca leaned casually against the mausoleum door, arms folded, his figure haloed by the moonlight. His bloodstained shirt clung to him like dark shadows
I rushed for the forest, stumbling into the dark shadows. When I glanced over my shoulder again, he had vanished, swallowed by the shadows. Fresh panic swept through me.
Branches whipped at my face and skin. There was light ahead of me, then I found myself stumbling out into another part of the cemetery. Somehow I had gotten turned around. I searched frantically for the fence, trying to find my way out.
I felt his grip before I saw him, strong hands seizing my arms as he loomed out of the darkness. My breath hitched. He carried me with him, the two of us moving with momentum, as his arms enveloped me.
I almost stumbled, but he reeled me back against his body, anchoring us both. One hand bracketed my throat as he kept me erect. His lips brushed down the slope of my throat as he steered me forward.
“Put your hands on the tombstone,” Luca commanded, voice low and dangerous.
He didn’t wait for my compliance. His fingers wrapped around my wrists, guiding them to the cold marble. The stone’s edge cut into my palms as he pressed against me from behind, pinning me there.
“Even when you’re terrified, you’re this wet for me?” His hand slipped between my thighs, a statement rather than a question, his touch sending an involuntary shiver up my spine.
“Luca…” My voice was a plea, but my mind raced, scrambling for words that might diffuse the tension.
“Shh.” He hushed me, his fingers spanning my thigh. His head dipped, his lips brushing over my bare skin, as he reached between my legs.
Every stroke was deliberate, his rhythm slow but insistent. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his fingers, sliding over slick heat, circling, teasing. My body tensed with desire, even as my breathing remained the same ragged gasp.
“Luca, please.” It wasn’t clear whether I was begging for more or for it to stop.
“Please what?” His breath was hot against my ear, and his movements quickened, his fingers pulsing against my clit.
My knees buckled as pleasure built, overwhelming my senses. I leaned heavily against the tombstone. My pulse hammered in my ears, drowning out everything but the sound of my panting and the whisper of skin against skin.
“God.” The word was a prayer, a curse, as the wave rose to take me over.
The sweet edge of release was near, so close, when Luca’s teeth sank into my shoulder. Pain lanced through me, sharp and sudden, a dark contrast to the pleasure that had been building. I let out a gasp.
“Your tears mean nothing to me. They only make me want to hurt you more, starlight.”
Yet, even as he spoke, his fingers continued their relentless pursuit of my climax.
The pain in my shoulder battled with the burgeoning ecstasy, each sensation trying to overpower the other. But then, as if they reached some twisted agreement, they melded together.
My body convulsed involuntarily, every nerve alight as I shattered against his hand. The world narrowed down to that single, blinding moment of release.
I’d never come so hard in my life.
Before I could catch my breath, Luca’s hand came down hard against my ass, stinging me back to reality. I tried to squirm away from him, desperation giving me strength, but I was no match for his muscle.
His fingers twined through my hair, holding me firmly without inflicting more pain. There was no escape.
“Over the stone,” he commanded. “Don’t test me again, Celia.”
I was forced to bend over the tombstone, its cold, hard surface pressing against my stomach. His hand was still tangled mercilessly in my hair. The spanks came one after another, each slap resonating through the stillness of the cemetery. With each strike, the sting spread, a hot flush on my skin that stood in stark contrast to the chill of the night air.
“Luca, please.” I wasn’t sure what I was pleading for anymore.
He stopped, stroking one hand gently over my reddened ass even as he gripped my hair.
“What do you want from me?” The question came out as a hoarse whisper, my voice raw.
Luca’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “I want to own you,” he murmured. “But for now, punishment is in order. And I don’t think that particular kind of pain is enough to bring you under control, is it? Aren’t you starting to like it, Celia?”
His words twisted inside me. There was truth there, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“Since you were so keen on hiding in there,” he continued with a cruel smirk, nodding toward the mausoleum, “you can have your wish.”
Panic surged through me, and I stumbled back, but Luca was impossibly fast. He grabbed my arm, his grip iron, and dragged me toward the mausoleum. I dug my heels into the soft earth, trying to resist, but it was useless. He was so much stronger than I was, even when I was fueled with desperation.
The door let out a scream as he opened it. As he thrust me inside, I scrambled against the smooth marble walls, but there was nothing to hold onto. He shoved me hard, forcing me to stumble into the pitch dark.
I landed hard on my knees, and immediately turned, trying to pitch myself forward to get out the door. I had to get out of here, no matter what it cost me.
Luca’s expression was as cold as the statues outside as the door narrowed between us. I raced toward it, knowing I wouldn’t make it.
The door slammed shut, sealing me in darkness.