50. Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Forty-Nine
Olivia
“ I t’s a beautiful city,” says a male voice. I tear my unwilling eyes away from the view. “I’ve seen you here the past few days. Are you visiting?” Up close he is even more attractive, with his blonde hair, blue eyes and carved jaw.
“Visiting,” I reply simply as I take a sip of my drink.
He smiles, a devastating thing that sparkles beneath the afternoon sun. “It’s the best view of the city, don’t you think?” the man replies, sitting right in front of that breathtaking view with the confident air of a man who knows he’s good-looking.
“I’ve seen better,” I smile, pulling my coat in closer to defend against the chill.
That gleam falters. “It must have some novelty if you’ve visited this place three days in a row.”
Only three days? It’s felt like a lifetime, dragging on thanks to my anxiety and desperation. It almost felt as long as my week at Ironwood. A place I called home for fifteen years suddenly felt foreign and wrong. I walked the old trails, paddled in the pool, the pain in my chest still present, both real and emotional. Mistress Abbott had a lot of questions, ones I couldn’t answer, as I paid my final school bill and collected my identification. The silence and my longing amplified the ache in my chest. Each time I walked through the woods, I prayed Alessandrio would split from the shadows and claim me—but he never did.
I sweep some of my golden hair behind my ear and offer this man another truth. “I’m waiting for someone.” My gaze wanders beyond his handsome face to the sprawling city at his back.
“For three days?”
Well, that backfired. His question rattles me and a fist squeeze my heart, making my throat hurt.
“As long as it takes,” is all I can reply with the threat of tears very real. Three days really is nothing in the grand scheme of my life, not when I’ve come so close to death.
He makes a thoughtful sound. “Well, if you get bored with waiting, I’m a regular here and always around for a good time.” He stands with a smile, unfaltering and self-assured. “Mika,” he says, offering out his hand.
I shake it, if only to be kind and offer him a weak smile instead of my name. He nods before turning to walk back to his friends, not an ounce of defeat in his stride. I wish I was that unfazed. Instead, I chew on my lip and check the time.
“One more hour,” I whisper to myself.
One more hour of waiting and praying. My gaze slides back to the hotel across the street, a place I once called a prison and then found a home inside of. The pain might still gnaw at me, but staring at the glass windows that reflect the sun’s light, I can’t help but feel my chest bloom with hope. Hope that Alessandrio might see me. For the past three days, I’ve sat and waited, praying that when I left as night fell, he might pluck me from the street. This has been my grand gesture, but if it failed, I would enter that hotel and demand an audience. The world might be my oyster with my inheritance and my identification in my possession, but I am in love. Completely and irrevocably in love, and after years of only knowing fear and loneliness, I owe it to myself to try. If Alessandrio sends me away—the damage I did too great to mend what we had begun—I will know I did my best.
Raising my glass, I take another sip and let my eyes travel the shimmering glass tower. I’ve sat in this exact spot for days trying to calculate which one is his, trying to be patient. Because maybe he’s stopped using his binoculars, maybe he’s busy. Maybe he doesn’t care. Those insidious thoughts are like daggers to my gut. I take a deep breath, the chilled air filling my lungs as I try to calm this feeling. It’s on the exhalation that I feel my skin prickle with awareness, the hairs on my neck rising and not from the chill—but from the feminine shriek that cracks the unnatural silence at my back. I sit up straighter as a glass shatters somewhere behind me.
“What the fuck?” someone cries out.
I’m on my feet, turning as the patrons on the rooftop bar pull away from the undercover area and the elevator entrance. My feet move of their own volition, past Mika and his friends, the former looking wide eyed and pale. I push past a huddle of women, muttering half hearted apologies as I force my way toward the front of the crowd. My feet stumble as my eyes find the subject of all this confusion and fear. Alessandrio! In all his shirtless glory.
He’s breathing heavily, the air rushing out of him in puffs of mist as his crystal blue eyes find me emerging from the crowd. I drink him in, his powerful body heaving with ragged breaths as if he sprinted here. My eyes prick with tears as both fear and joy collide inside of me, each emotion rushing to find purchase in the swirl of feelings spinning around my head.
“What are you doing here?” I gasp and feel the attention shift to me. What a stupid question, because hadn’t I planned this? Hadn’t I wanted to provoke him into action? To taunt him with my nearness? “Alessandrio.” His name is like a weak prayer on my lips, a desperate plea.
But it feels good to say his name and actually have him near. A dry sob wracks my chest as the truth of how much I have missed him hits me. The urge to run to him is a niggling thrum in my veins, but I am so unsure of how to proceed. He looks so fierce. So terrible and yet so utterly fucking perfect as I take another step closer.
“I know I broke your trust.” I find my strength and remember my purpose. “What I did was unforgivable, I…” My words trail off as those eyes pin me to the spot with their weight. “I know I messed up. Please—” the word slips out on a broken sob.
He’s here! My mind screams. In all his wild and unrelenting beauty beneath this blue sky, before all these people. He moves, and it sends out a shock wave. The bodies behind me backing away from me as the predator stalks down his prey. A lone woman dangled before the beast, if only to spare them a similar fate. The closer he prowls, the more uncertain I feel. And then he is before me, towering over me, blotting out any light and casting me in his shadows.
A claw tipped hand rises, those obsidian tips glinting with malice and I watch in silence as they rise to my chest. He plucks at the collar of my shirt. Lifting my head, I watch his eyes slide over my skin and find the corner of the bandage still covering my chest. A shudder wracks him, a physical response to something that simmers in his eyes. Alessandrio lowers his head and leans in to press his lips to my clavicle.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” A chorus of sharp inhales sound from behind me, encored by my own as he falls to his knees before me. “You could have died.” Pain cuts across his face. “I should have fucking known that something was wrong. That look on your face, the shake of your hand as you held that fucking gun. I should have seen it.” A single tear slips off my chin to land on his lips. “It’s my apology to give. I know I am a monster in both nature and image, but I am your monster, Liv, and I fucking love you. Please let me make it up to you.”
A sob of relief escapes my mouth. “I love you Alessandrio.” Something in his face eases, a tension that has always been there. “Please don’t ruin me,” I whisper, tasting the salt on my own lips.
He shakes his head, blue eyes burning and horns glinting beneath the bar lights. “I promise to ruin you how you like and make sure I lovingly put you back together after.” I could melt at his words.
They’re all I need. I grasp his head in my hands, fingers sliding through his silken fur as I drop my mouth to his. One taste and I realize I’ve been starving. All this time, a piece of me has been missing and as his tongue licks at my lips, I realize how good it feels to be home. Through our kiss, he rises, his own silken fingers sliding against my scalp as he cradles my head, mouth devouring.
“I have fucking missed you,” he snarls, pulling back and my toes curl.
Slow clapping behind us has reality crashing in. What started as a slow, unsure clap is now a full-blown raucous cheer. Clinging to his neck, I look over my shoulder to see the entire bar watching us with a mixture of dazzling awe and unbridled excitement.
“What broadway show is this for?” a woman calls from the crowd.
“I love guerilla marketing,” a man says to his friend.
I can’t help but laugh as I turn my face into Alessandrio’s neck, breathing in his familiar scent.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here before I give them a proper show,” he snarls in my ear, grinding his hard length against me in emphasis.
“Please,” I whisper back.
He lifts me and is moving with that predatory ease I appreciate. The cheers follow us until the metal doors of the elevator slide closed. We clutch each other, a tight grip of two beings who have missed each other with a very desperate need.
“Never fucking leave me again,” he growls, clutching my face in his hands, his eyes sliding over my skin.
“I won’t,” I whimper, pulling his mouth back to my own.
We barely restrain ourselves, even as similar shrieks and terrified gasps follow us back across the street. We spill into the unfamiliar apartment, a tangle of limbs and unleashed desire. Alessandrio’s hands become gentle as they peel my sweater over my head and press me up against the wall.
“Fuck, I missed you,” I breathe as his tongue slides against my taut nipple beneath my lace bralette.
He lifts me then, and my thighs wrap around his bare waist, finding purchase against the deep V carved there. I moan as his fingers slip beneath the crotch of my lace thong and tug it to the side, revealing my glistening sex, hot and ready. His eyes meet mine, burning and demanding my attention, distracting me as he shifts again. We share a mingled breath as his hard length nudges my entrance and I begin my descent. I clutch his shoulders, stretching around him as I glide down his cock to the hilt.
“I love you,” I gasp out through tears, overwhelmed by this feeling and need.
His forehead meets mine. “I love you Liv,” he breathes, flexing his narrow hips.
I give myself over to him. At first he’s gentle, but with my urging, he becomes relentless. My knees are over his arms as he drives himself into me, using my weight and slick heat to impale me. I scream, cry, and beg as I come apart at the seams. The pleasure is so overwhelming it tugs him over the edge with me, because wherever I go, he goes.