Chapter 8
eight
KITANIA
I ran harder, my sneakers pounding against the moving belt of the treadmill. Sweat poured down my face, soaking through my thin tank top until it clung to me like a second skin. The digital display blurred as I jabbed at the buttons, increasing the speed until my lungs burned.
Pain. I needed more of it. Physical pain was tangible, controllable—so much better than the memories that had jolted me awake an hour ago.
The weight of the weapon in my hand.
The deafening echo of gunshots.
Vincent’s dead eyes staring back at me.
I gripped the handrails, my knuckles bleeding white. Every muscle in my legs screamed in protest, but I pushed harder, craving the hypnotic thump, thump, thump of my footfalls that almost— almost —drowned out the nightmare.
If I ran fast enough, maybe I could outrun what I’d become. Maybe I could leave behind the woman who’d pulled the trigger. The woman who’d watched the light fade from a man’s eyes and felt... relieved .
And that was the crux of it. The reaction, the relief. I hated that I’d had to shoot someone—that I’d killed a man—but I was also happy he was dead. That he couldn’t hurt me or others anymore. That he wasn’t a threat to my mates.
But what kind of person did that make me?
Dimitri had promised that it got easier with time, and God … I hoped that was true.
Suddenly, a hand reached past me, punching at the controls.
“Slow down, Sweetness,” Giovanni’s voice sliced through my haze.
I hadn’t heard him enter the gym. Hadn’t noticed his presence until he was right beside me. I stumbled, caught off-guard by the sudden change in pace.
My singular focus had been to run faster, push harder, escape the memories, but all that shattered as I slowly drew to a stop. I glanced over, panting hard, to find my Alpha standing by the treadmill.
Dressed in black joggers and a fitted tee, he looked every bit the fighter—broad chest, ink peeking out from above his neckline, and eyes that didn’t miss a thing; concern etched deep.
He knew exactly what I was doing—punishing my body until I couldn’t keep going, until exhaustion finally dragged me under.
“You can’t outrun your demons this way,” he said softly. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”
I stood there, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my temples. My legs trembled from the exertion as I braced myself against the handrails, turning away, avoiding his gaze. I felt suddenly exposed, as if he could see straight through to the dark questions churning inside me.
The silence stretched, and when I finally found my voice, it emerged as a raw whisper. “I’m not who I was before.”
Giovanni stepped closer, movements deliberate yet gentle, like he was approaching a wounded animal. He reached out, a calloused hand capturing my chin, tilting my head up until I had no choice but to meet his eyes. His expression held no pity, only understanding—the look of someone who had walked through his own darkness and survived to tell the tale.
“No, you’re not,” he agreed, his thumb brushing along the line of my bottom lip. The simple touch sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cooling sweat on my skin. “You’re stronger. You’re a survivor. A fighter.”
Something shifted inside me at his conviction—a tiny spark that cut through the shadow of doubt. His scent—earth, iron, and notes that were uniquely him—grounded me in the present.
Those eyes that always saw straight through me held mine, and I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
“Come here.” Giovanni closed the distance between us. His arms came around me, pulling me against his chest with a gentleness that broke something loose inside me. I collapsed into him, melting instantly against his solid frame. “The nightmares won’t last forever, Dolcezza,” he promised. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but they won’t.”
It wasn’t just what he said, but how he said it—with such absolute certainty, like he’d walked this path himself and knew exactly where it led. And I believed him, not because I trusted the future, but because I trusted him completely.
When I finally found the courage to pull back slightly, I tilted my face up to meet his. My hands rested against his chest, his heart beating beneath my palm.
“Teach me,” I commanded softly, fervently. “Teach me to fight properly. To never be a victim again.”
The words came from somewhere deep inside—not out of fear, but from a resolve I didn’t even know I had until now. I needed this. Needed to feel like I had some control over what happened to me, and to the people I cared about.
My Alpha studied me, his gaze moving over every feature, reading me, memorizing me. Whatever he saw there must have satisfied him, because he nodded once, his eyes intense. A hand came up to cup my face, thumb tracing the curve of my cheekbone.
“I will,” he promised. “You have my word, Sweetness.”
Giddiness bubbled up inside me, more than just a desire to learn how to fight. This was about taking back control, turning my fears into strength. It was about partnership, not just being protected. I wanted to be more than a damsel in distress—I wanted to stand as an equal with the men I loved.
“When do we start?”
Gio’s lips curved into a smile. “We already have,” he said, his hand sliding from my face to curl around the nape of my neck, thumb pressing gently against my pulse point. “Lesson one: knowing when to push yourself—” his grip tightened fractionally, “—and when to rest and let your body recover.”
“But—”
A finger landed on my lips, his way of shushing me. “Don’t even try that cute pout on me. We’ll start self-defense training in the morning, after you’ve gotten a decent night’s sleep.”
Smirking, I kissed his fingertip. “Fine. You win.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up higher. “I always win.”
I scoffed playfully. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Grinning, Gio swooped down and stole a kiss. “Follow my teaching, Dolcezza, and maybe, someday, you’ll give me a run for my money.”
I giggled, smiling widely for the first time in ages. Because I may have been sassy, but the idea of beating him at anything physical was honestly comical.
Gio was a giant, the top of my head barely reaching his mid-chest.
“Have you seen yourself? I could train for ten years and still never come close to pinning you.”
“True.” Suddenly, his eyes were absolutely smoldering. “Unless I let you…”
I swallowed hard, acutely aware of how close we were, of all his hard muscles, the heat coming off of him, and how my own body reacted to his nearness. The gym felt smaller, the air thicker, filled with his pheromones.
My hand slid up his chest and around his neck, running my hands over his short hair, enjoying the texture of it. Biting my lip, I popped onto my tiptoes, angling my mouth toward the shell of his ear.
“I have another favor to ask…”
“Anything,” he murmured, turning his head into my cheek, his breath tickling my skin.
God, I’d missed this. This closeness. This touch. This intimacy.
Being with my Alphas.
Feeling confident and sexy.
“Distract me? Wear me out so I don’t dream?” The request was vulnerable and genuine, and filled with so much need, it was practically a plea.
“Oh, Sweetness,” he purred. “You never have to ask.”
Without hesitation, Gio swept me off my feet, and my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, clinging to him like I’d drown if I let go. And then I remembered the bandage beneath his shirt.
“Your shoulder!”
“I’m fine, Dolcezza. Nearly good as new. Trust me to know my own limits.”
“But—”
He silenced me with another kiss as one of his massive hands cupped my ass, supporting my weight effortlessly. The other tangled in my hair, fingers tightening just enough to send a delicious wave of goosebumps racing over my skin. He took control, angling me right where he wanted me while he devoured me, drawing needy little whines from my throat.
Fuck, yes!
“Is this what you need?” he asked in a rumble I felt more than heard.
I nodded, beyond words.
His mouth crashed to mine once more, stealing my breath with a kiss that was all hunger and need and desperation. His tongue swept past my lips, claiming me, tasting me, making me forget everything but this moment. I moaned, and he swallowed the sound.
I rocked against him instinctively, seeking friction, needing relief from the ache building between my thighs. The hard length of him pressed against my core, and even through layers of clothing, the contact sent sparks of pleasure through me.
“Yes,” I gasped when we broke apart for air. “This is what I need. You. Just you.”
Eyes dark, pupils blown wide, he gazed up at me. The raw want I saw there made me feel powerful, desirable—made me feel like more than the broken, traumatized woman who’d been running her heart out, going nowhere, on a treadmill.
“Where?” he asked, already moving, carrying me as if I weighed nothing.
I tightened my legs around him, pressing myself closer, chasing the bliss. “Doesn’t matter. Here. Anywhere.”
My Alpha growled, the sound reverberating through his chest and straight into mine. His lips found my neck, teeth grazing over my pulse point, and I tilted my head back, giving him better access, yearning, so damn badly, for his bite. The slight scrape of stubble had my nipples pebbling and my clit throbbing. My perfume spilled into the air, billowing around us.
“My Omega,” he growled against my throat, and the possessiveness made me shudder.
My fingers slid up to cradle his face, bringing his mouth back to mine. This kiss was slower, deeper, but no less intense. I could taste his scent, could feel his need.
“Please,” I whispered against his lips, not even sure what I was begging for anymore. Just more. More of him. More of this feeling that drove away the darkness. More of the heat that burned away the cold memories. “Make me forget everything but you.”
In his gaze, I saw understanding—he knew exactly what I needed, what I was asking for. Not just physical release, but oblivion. A reprieve from life, to get lost in this moment.
With a solid grip on my ass, his other hand dropped to my thigh, his thumb easily dipping between my legs and making its way straight to my clit.
“Hold on tight, Sweetness,” he warned, voice warm with promise. “Because I’m going to make you forget your own name.”