14. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Alessandrio
I am unbelievable. Clearly, Riccardo didn’t fill her in on everything. I would have thought being penniless and public enemy number one for one of the most powerful Mafia families in New York would be priority information for your last living kin. Especially given Narciso took great lengths to hide her. She’s been in that school since she was five and they must have known the threat to her would have been immense.
I slam my weights down on the floor, little care given for the way they make the floor vibrate beneath them. The offer of oblivion I know I can find at the bottom of a bottle of Jack was a tantalizing pull, but I have work to do and a girl to scare into submission. So exercise will be my next best thing. Even the thought of her, however, raises the fur on the back of my neck. I fucking have her. Triumph is the only drug of choice I want right now.
My phone vibrates, drawing my attention.
Emilio.
“Miss me?” I answer.
“How is it going?”
“Oh, you know, I let her paint my claws and brush my coat. I almost purred when she got to my belly.” He huffs out a curse but I hear the laughter in it. “She’s currently in my playroom, thinking about how her life will end.”
There’s a pause. For a month, I helped him hunt Riccardo and for a month, I had to watch him fall deeper into his shadow self. Heartbroken. Letting Lucia go had eaten away at him. Even now, thinking about it, it makes my stomach sour. Love. Its own fucking curse.
There’s a long sigh on the other end, and I can almost hear his hope. “Good. Make sure she is ready to bend to our will.”
“She’ll be ready.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I live for this, in our world. He is God and I am his hand. Nothing about our intentions are holy, but they are still sacred.
The desire to get this party started is strong as I move down the hall again. It isn’t because of her, I remind myself. I’ve always been like this: nothing is done in half measures. My brother gives me a task and I complete it to my fullest potential. That’s the way of it. Olivia Dolmino has something we need, it's that simple.
I would kick the door open for dramatic effect, but it’s barely hanging on as it is. The creak of stressed hinges will have to suffice. Even in the low light, I see her stiffen. My finger finds the button beside the light switch and the drapes part, flooding the room with the dying light of the outside world. Her head twists toward it with an eagerness I almost envy. From me she turns her head.
My claws tap the tiles with each step. The sound used to drive me wild with frustration, my ability to move stealthily snatched away with everything else. For these moments, however, it serves me well. I can see the effect it has on her.
“Fear is creeping in, isn’t it?” My words fill the room with false concern. “You are shaking not with cold, but with fear, aren’t you?” I don’t expect an answer, merely want her to know that I know how she is feeling— powerless.
No, I will never feel what she is feeling again, what others feel when they are in her position and, in a way, I am grateful for that. Her shaking becomes more violent as I draw nearer. I hear the chattering of her teeth, as if my words only heightened her response.
“Come now,” I purr, “I’ve bought you food and water.”
I stop directly behind her and lean down to reach the plate with the glass of water balanced on it out over her shoulder to show her. Her gasp is like music to my ears, as she takes in the ceramic gripped in my large, claw tipped hand. I don’t even fight the urge as I sniff her hair so close to my face. She wrenches forward, this cry more of pain than of fear as her body moves awkwardly with its restraint.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” I chuckle.
When I finally come face to face with her, she tightly screws up her grey eyes as if she hopes it will prevent me from existing. As if it will stop me from taking everything from her. Dropping to my haunches before her knees, I look into her face. It’s surreal, after staring at her school photos for days to suddenly be seeing her. She’s even more perfect in the flesh, even with her lips pulled into a grimace, and her eyes desperately trying to block me out. A bitter pill.
“Open your mouth,” I order quietly.
She only presses those full lips tighter together. Putting the plate down, I rise, stepping into her as I grasp a fist full of hair at the back of her head. Her golden waves are silky and thick. She gasps, but her eyes don’t open as I pull her head back firmly.
“We can do this the hard way or the easy way.” I will jam my fingers in her mouth to pry her teeth open if I have to.
The stubborn little thing bares her teeth at me, and my patience begins to fray. With my free hand, I clasp her face, pressing my fingers into the joints of her jaw, making it impossible for her to clench her teeth before jamming my two clawless fingers between her lips. She cries out, widening her mouth as her tongue swirls around them, the feel of it almost luring me down the wrong path.
“Bite me and I’ll bite you back,” I tell her, pressing harder.
Those eyes finally open. A smile cracks my face. This close and with her head restrained, she cannot avoid me. I watch the whites around the grey grow as they widen, terror chasing the pain from their surface. We stare at one another, locked in a moment that feels fateful. Fate would bring the cursed son of a murdered man and his murderer’s daughter together, a collision that will undoubtedly lead to casualty. I suck in breaths, smelling the sweat on her skin and the taint of something sweet and feminine. Maybe it’s her fear that smells so sweet. Undoubtedly.
“I. Have. Food,” I tell her, punctuating each word so that through her terror she might understand.
Relinquishing my hold on her hair, but not her jaw, I reach down and grab the glass of water. In all the ways I thought of how to torment her, this was one of them. Lifting the water to my lips, I take a sip, her rounded gaze watching every movement. I feel her attempt to pull back as I lean forward, my grip on her face moving her with me. There is the sweetest garble of a whimper around me as I dribble water from my mouth down into hers. It runs over my intruding fingers onto her tongue and her struggles cease.
“See, just wat—” I rock back as she sucks greedily in her thirst.
The sensation is like a jolt of electricity, spearing down my body, right into my dick. Fucking hell. I feel myself swell and wrench my hand back from her eager mouth as she adjusts her jaw and licks her lips. Fuck.
“More.” Her voice is raspy.
Pull your shit together . She watches me, all fear replaced by her hunger for water. I bank the fire in my veins. Refusing the urge to suck down calming breaths.
“Tilt your head back and open wide,” I grind out on the edge of my control.
This time, Olivia does so without a second thought. Clinging to my sense, I pour the water over the lip of the glass and into her mouth. I give her a few sips of water, disappointed by the backfiring of my plan and biting down the urge to jam my fingers down her throat just to feel her suck on them once more. No.
“Washroom. Please.” Tears glaze her eyes as she pleads.
Ah yes. Basic human needs. I’ve cleaned up a lot of messes I’ve made in the past, but I have no interest in cleaning up after her. Backing away, I switch the light on in the bathroom. I should clear away the tools of my trade, but I want to see how much fight she has in her. It’s an obnoxious dare, and one I hope she takes.