Chapter 5
LUCA
Ilet her think I’m furious, that I’ve lost control. It’s not that big of an act, truthfully. She knows how to push my buttons. I was sorely tempted to sling the woman over my shoulder and carry her out of there when she refused to come with me willingly.
The frustrating thing is that she wanted to.
She tried to hide it, but I could sense how afraid she was—more than that, how alone.
I wonder how long she’s been running on fumes and why she feels she has to shoulder the whole burden by herself.
The Vecchissime might not be the virtuous angels they pretend to be, but she has family and should therefore have support.
Her bloodline, the other Seers—why isn’t she confiding in them?
Why is she out here, facing this situation on her own? Why is she so fucking stubborn?
In case she’s watching, I punch the pole of a streetlight as I pass it. The skin covering my knuckles breaks open, and the light wobbles so much it might come down. Shit.
Once that’s done, I stalk away down the road, but after a few moments, I calmly walk back, making myself invisible in the shadows until I find a spot where I can see into the bar.
If she was watching, all she would have seen was what she expected to see—a grumpy-ass vampire storming away, leaving her in peace.
Now, I just need to wait. After she comes out, as soon as I get her alone, I will take her. Whether she wants to or not, she’ll be coming with me tonight. I can be stubborn too. I’ve had a lot of practice.
I have no clue why I’m so drawn to this woman when all logic tells me we should be enemies.
No idea as to why I would consider disobeying the Don and risking everything, including my life.
I have less of a clue why, after centuries of not giving a damn about anyone, I suddenly feel the urge to charge in and be the hero.
I’m no knight in shining armor, and she’s no damsel in distress.
The last time I felt like this—the last time I tried to save someone—it did not end well.
For either of us. I still remember her screams now, still feel the helpless fury of being tied and bound with silver chain while she was raped and tortured in front of me, her flesh branded with hot iron, her eyes pierced with fishhooks.
Every part of her body covered in blood and cum and the marks of teeth and knives and whips.
The sound of those screams will be with me for all eternity, but it was worse when they stopped. When she no longer had the energy to cry out. The last time I saw her face, it was pale, bloodless, floating beneath the murky surface of the Seine. Washed clean and finally at peace.
I couldn’t save Isabella, and maybe I can’t save Rosa Capelli. But I have to try.
The issue is whether I can take her back to Vincenzo or not. What does he have planned for her? Will he let me keep her? What will I do if he locks her in one of his dungeons or gives her to Carlos or some other twisted fuck?
I’ll end them is what I’ll do. I feel it with complete certainty. Even if it means the end of me, I will fight for her.
She must be pretty intent on finishing that beer because she still hasn’t left the bar. Maybe she’s dancing with the goths, making new friends. Distracting herself from the pain and fatigue I saw etched on her beautiful face.
I’m confused by every single thing about this.
I’ve been alive for a very long time and have had more than my share of sex.
But since Isabella, it hasn’t been anything more than sex—brief pleasure, meeting a physical need, sometimes a game or even a punishment.
I like my partners submissive and silent, and Rosa Capelli is neither of those things.
There’s something going on underneath the surface here that I don’t understand, and I hate not understanding.
It makes me feel out of control, and when I feel out of control, things get broken.
I take out my phone and dial Matteo.
“Yep?” he says, ever the chatterbox.
“What happened to the last people Vincenzo had kidnapped?”
“Umm … Well, let’s see. There was that Roma guy. The one who killed a girl in Paladin.”
Paladin is one of our clubs, catering to a vamp/human clientele.
Some of the humans know the score, some don’t.
They go there because it’s full of hot bodies and drugs, and if they wake up with a blood-loss hangover and puncture marks on their inner thighs, then they figure it was a wild night and worth the consequences.
Now that Matteo mentions it, I remember the incident.
About a year ago, a vamp from the Roma Cosca went too far and sucked the life out of some college girl who turned out to be the kid of a senator.
Vincenzo was furious—it put us all at risk of exposure—and refused to let the Roma Don deal with the punishment.
“That guy’s still downstairs,” Matteo says, referring to the dungeons. “Or at least some of him is. Carlos has been cutting off bits of him, letting him almost heal, then doing it all over. Apparently his dick wasn’t that big to start off with, and it’s getting smaller by the day.”
Carlos is a sick bastard who doesn’t even have the excuse of being a bored vampire who lost his humanity after centuries of giving and receiving pain. He was just born that way. If Vincenzo ever turns him, I’ll be first in line with a stake myself. That fucker does not deserve eternity.
“Who else?” I ask, seeking a scrap of hope. Something to convince me that I can take her there and she won’t be dead or wishing she were within a day.
“Felicia’s still there. Still chained up and hanging from the ceiling. Though I think she kinda likes it.”
Felicia is a special case. She’s the Don’s ex-wife, and a world of snakes lives inside her brain. She’s not relevant.
“What about that human chick from Miami? The journalist?” I can’t remember her name—she wasn’t my job—but she got scooped up for being too nosy. I have no idea why the Don decided to keep her alive, but that’s what he did.
“Yeah, she’s okay. Angry as fuck, but okay. Has all her body parts, at least. Why, Luca? You wanna tell me what’s going on?”
I glance across the road, see she’s still in there, dancing away to whatever noise is coming from the jukebox. She’s holding a beer in the air like it’s a torch, and her hair is swaying as her body moves. I tear my eyes away, because that is way too distracting.
“Gotta be honest, buddy.” A heavy sigh gusts from my mouth.
“I don’t really know. This girl, this malocchio …
Look, you know how you felt when you first saw Moonface and the other dogs?
When they were tough and scary as shit and could rip a man’s throat out in seconds, but you saw through all that and thought oh, poor little baby? ”
“Yeah. But that’s me. And that’s an abused animal.
This is you, Boss, and you don’t do compassion.
And she’s a Seer who’s probably taken down thousands of our kind.
I get the pit bull comparison, but unlike Moonface, she had a fucking choice in the matter.
So whatever misguided pity you’re feeling, maybe shelve it, okay? ”
“But you haven’t seen her, Matteo. I’m not so sure she has had much of a choice in anything for a very long time.”
“And that’s your problem why exactly?”
I don’t reply. I can’t find the words to explain to him, this man who knows me better than any other, how I feel. To describe what crazy shit is happening to me.
“Is she hot?” he finally asks when I stay silent. He sounds so genuinely interested that it forces a laugh from me.
“Yeah, she’s hot. But there’s more to it than that. It’s like there’s some kind of connection between us. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but it’s messing with my goddamn head.”
“And does she feel it, too? This connection?”
His emphasis on the word makes me grin. We’re two centuries-old predators who have killed and fucked our way through a million cruelties.
We murder without meaning, crush without conscience, and would tear a man’s heart out without pausing to ask his name.
He and I are monsters, and we are talking like a couple of teenagers in a rom-com.
“Pretty sure she does, yeah.”
“Could you scent it? Was she faking it, or was she really wet for you?”
My fist tightens around the phone, and I force myself to relax before it shatters. To not destroy the stupid device because Matteo said the wrong thing.
“Boss? You okay? You’re, uh, hissing at me there.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t here with me, pal, or your head would be up your ass right now. Literally. Don’t ever talk about her like that again, you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand. But I think there’s a problem. You want me to ask Minnie to look into this? Because this don’t feel like no little crush to me. It sounds like you’ve lost your fucking mind. You need to get away from her and get back here.”
He’s probably right, but the thought of being away from her—of leaving her out here in danger—makes me feel like something is breaking inside of me. It’s like the world’s worst fucking headache, except it’s all over my body.
“Get Minnie to take a look, yeah, if she can do it safely. And in the meantime, get the house in Brooklyn ready. I might need it soon.”
“Whatever you say, Luca. Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
Aware that I can make no promises on that front and feeling like I’m made up entirely of stupid, I hang up.
My brain isn’t working right, and it took Matteo suggesting to ask Minnie for help when it should’ve been my first thought.
When there’s extra-weird shit going on, Minnie is the gal to have on your side.