Chapter 18
Soren
The last thing I remember is orgasming with my face pressed against Carmine’s neck.
Compared to the pain of each and every cut in my fucking face and body, the pleasure that wracked through me had felt like utter heaven.
I’d needed his touch more than ever before, and for the first time, I was the truly vulnerable one.
It was easy to focus on the memory of kissing Carmine instead of the memory of Big Jacque digging into my flesh one searing cut at a time. All I really want as I start to fade back into the world is to feel Carmine nearby. I need to know he’s close.
I need to know that I didn’t just fucking dream it all.
“Carm.” My voice is quiet and rough. I blink lazily and groan at the ache in my body.
I’m lying down, that much I know.
My captor wouldn’t have let me lay down.
Not on the soft cushion I’m currently lying down on. I don’t feel so sticky and close to death anymore. The cuts don’t ache quite as badly. My face doesn’t feel like it’s on fire.
It’s quiet for a long moment. So quiet that I’m almost sure I’m alone, but then I hear footsteps nearby.
My vision starts to clear. I process where I am.
Sorta. I’m lying on a couch with several towels underneath and wrapped around my body.
In a living room I don’t recognize, with low sunlight piercing through the curtain nearby.
It makes my head hurt, so I look away from it and toward the man standing to the side of the couch.
“Soren, you’re awake. Finally,” Carmine says. He crouches down beside me and brushes his fingers along the side of my face. The cuts on my cheek and chin have started to scab up now. I don’t mind the pain I feel as he touches them. It reminds me that he’s really here. I’m really here.
“Are you okay?” I ask him. “I couldn’t even take him on.” My throat is dryer than I realize and my words almost sound like dust coming out of my mouth.
Carmine holds up a bottle of water he’s carrying and twists the cap off. “I managed,” he tells me. “I was not going to let him kill you.”
“I can’t believe Eivor sent him after me,” I mumble. My brows furrow and I start to sit up.
“Hey, careful there. You got it pretty good, Ren,” Carmine insists. He puts his hand on my back before I sit up the rest of the way.
I sigh and it hurts my ribs. I haven’t felt this fucking beat up in a while.
“I’ll kill him for this,” I growl softly. “You could’ve died. We could’ve died.”
“Don’t,” Carmine holds the bottle of water to my mouth and I take a slow sip, then a gulp, thirstier than ever. It drips down my chin after he takes it away. I watch his mouth as he takes a heavy drink too and then screws the cap back on.
“You’re sayin’ you don’t want him dead?” I ask, raising a brow. “After—”
“I did not say that,” he motions with a finger. “But right now? It’d be starting a war, and that’s what he wants. Isn’t it?”
I look to the floor for a second. “It is,” I agree with a nod. “He’ll take any reason to blow your entire family up.”
“Now you are included in the mess. All due to not killing me,” Carmine sighs and slips onto the couch beside me.
I notice that I’m still naked but my lower half is wrapped in a towel that’s stained with my blood. I trail my fingers along the towel until I reach the middle, between the both of us.
I shake my head. “I should’ve never tried,” I say through gritted teeth.
“No, you should not have,” he agrees. Carmine slides his hand onto the back of my neck. “But you stopped.”
“I can’t kill you, Carm,” I say slowly, my eyes meet his. “I—” I stop myself. It’s not the right time. When is the right time?
How ridiculous will I sound?
“I can’t kill you,” Carmine tells me. “I cannot stand the idea of you dead, Soren. I can’t.” I scoot closer to him until our noses are brushing.
“How…how did we make it out?” I ask him.
“I’m not sure. Sheer stubbornness?” he tells me with a chuckle. “I stitched you up the best I could. You did not lose as much blood as it seems.”
I look down and he’s right, my shoulder is stitched up haphazardly, but it’s decent.
My eyes shift up to Carmine and I see the blood on the back of his neck still.
“You stitched me up, but who stitched you up?” I asked him and slowly walk my fingers around his head to see the sticky blood of a still damp wound on the back of it.
“Carmine!” I hiss. “You can’t just walk around with this.”
“It’s fine, it’s not that bad,” Carmine insists.
Nevertheless, I move around him as best as possible and take a look, parting his blood-matted hair to look at the gash on his head.
“You definitely need a couple stitches, man,” I grumble. My body is so sore, but I don’t give a damn. I’m going to take care of Carmine whether he likes it or not.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m sure, you idiot,” I snarl. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”
“You’ll save me,” he mumbles playfully. I can tell he’s lost more blood than he thinks. He looks a bit rough around the edges, like just blinking is taking work for him.
I can’t help but chuckle softly, and even that hurts a bit. I’ve had worse though, honestly. Every year I seem to get hurt in some worse way. Eventually, I’ll die. I know it. I have a feeling with Carmine around it’ll be harder to kill me than usual.
With a sigh, I look around the room. It’s a nice little villa. I can practically hear the waves crashing down on the cliffside outside and the smell of the salty ocean even stronger. There’s no one else around us. No guards and no enemies threatening our lives. Wherever we are, we’re safe for now.
“Where’s the first aid?” I ask Carmine.
He motions to the glass coffee table right in front of us.
“Ah.” I slide away from him just enough to grab the small suture kit with a fresh needle. It’s not exactly hospital grade, but it’s better than what I did his leg up with that’s for sure.
“Should’ve come here when you got shot,” I mumble as I prepare the needle thread.
“It’s too far away, I probably would have bled out,” Carmine comments. “Besides, I would have had to tell you where it is.”
“That’s true. You weren’t in the shape for that.” I move to the side and behind him slightly. I use some alcohol to clean up around the idea so I can see.
“Need to shave my head?” Carmine asks. I can’t quite tell if he’s joking or not.
I raise a brow. “It would make this easier.”
“Fuck no,” he hisses. “You come near me with a razor and I’ll shave your head.”
I snicker dizzily. “Got it, ya baby.”
I hear him grumble under his breath as I start to push the needle through his flesh, one side to the other, suturing the small gash up with two stitches. They’d have probably done more at the hospital, but they’d have also shaved the area first.
“You’re lucky you didn’t get killed,” I tell him.
“You are,” Carmine replies. “That guy was fucking massive.” He makes a slight face of discomfort as I finish up.
I exhale heavily and toss the needle and remaining thread on the table along with the cotton I used. “I didn’t have a fuckin’ chance, Carm,” I admit freely. “He knocked me out when I got to my car, the next thing I knew I was in that damn chair.”
Carmine growls low and turns to look at me. “Your uncle set that shit up,” he tells me. “He didn’t even give you a chance. I found your phone and called Rosalie. She said that Eivor just decided it was over.”
My hands curl into fists and I close my eyes for a moment. “I’m not surprised,” I tell him. “In his mind, I’ve betrayed the family multiple times now. He thinks what he’s doing is for the best.”
“It’s not,” Carmine huffs and stands up from the couch. “He’s fucking everything up.”
I look up at him. “He’s trying to. I don’t know what his plans are, but they can’t be good from here on out. If he wants me dead, then—”
“No, absolutely not. You are not dying for that man’s small dick power vendetta,” he tells me and crouches down in front of me.
I’m distinctly aware of the fact that I’m still naked underneath this towel. I look down at him, and he looks into my eyes with an intensity that burns right through me.
I’ve never seen him look so protective, possessive… It’s incredibly hot and I can’t stop myself from reaching out to Carmine and brushing my fingers along his jawline.
“I shouldn’t have tried to kill you,” I tell him. “But I figured, if I don’t—didn’t—that someone would.”
He’s quiet but doesn’t pull away from me.
“I can’t stand the thought of someone else killing you, Carm,” I choke out. “If you even…get that, I dunno.” I shake my head and take a deep breath. My voice is low and gravely.
Carmine’s eyes get even darker and burn even hotter. “If someone is going to kill me, you wanted it to be you,” he replies. He lifts a hand to brush a lock of my hair behind my ear and I turn my face just enough to brush my lips against his palm. It feels rougher than when we met already.
“You understand then,” I whisper.
He nods. “Yes, and…you might not want to kill me, but Soren…if I’m going to die, I want it to be you,” he tells me.
My eyes widen a bit. “I don’t care what Eivor—” he cuts me off.
“This isn’t about him,” he insists. “I’m talking ever. If there’s ever a situation where I’m absolutely going to die, I want you to kill me instead. Don’t let someone else get the satisfaction.”
My eyes narrow and I search his face. There isn’t even a bit of hesitation there.
In my chest, my heart squeezes, and I swallow the lump that forms in my throat.
I lean down closer to him, and place my other hand on his shoulder. I squeeze tightly.
“I understand. I want you to kill me too. No one else should get to say they did. Only you.” I ignore the burning and aching in my body, and lean my forehead against his.
“So much has happened the last few months,” Carmine comments, his nose brushing against my own. “You have been there the whole time. I didn’t know why…maybe because I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want you to go away, even if you were betraying me—which you were.”
I just look back at him with eyes full of guilt and desire.