Chapter 28 Gaetano
Gaetano
Nicole emerges from the mist with the determined stride of a winner.
I never doubted she’d make it through the trial.
Now, as she stands before me— stripped of everything, knees scraped from crawling, skin marked with scratches, hair wild and tangled—the weight beneath my ribs shifts into something sharp and warm at once.
I didn’t return her clothes on purpose. I want her to see the wounds for herself, to witness the evidence of her strength.
“It was an illusion!” she says through sobs. “Tell me it wasn’t real…”
Her plea tears at me. I act on instinct and pull her in my arms. Her trembling body folds against mine with no resistance. Burying my nose in her hair, beneath the dust and the mist, I catch a trace of roses.
“It was an illusion,” I whisper into her ear, “but your reactions weren’t. Your victory was real. Look at your wounds.”
Her fingers clutch my shirt. “Why do you hate me this much?” she wails, her voice breaking against my chest.
My body stiffens. I push her back just enough to see her face. Her makeup is streaked across her cheeks and her chin. “Hate you?”
“You made me speak to my father like that…” Disgust drips from every word. “I did the unthinkable…”
More tears fall from her eyes, and the sight of each one sends a dull pain piercing me. She doesn’t know yet that it wasn’t me. The whole scene was born from her—her mind, her fears, her truth. And I can’t tell her. Not now.
I wipe away a tear that has rolled to her lips. “You were brave, my baroness. You burned them all to the ground.”
Damp hair sticks to her jaws as she shakes her head. “No, no…” she whispers, almost a prayer. “Why don’t you just take my soul and be done with it? I don’t want this anymore. I can’t…”
I gently hold her chin with my fingers to quiet her. Finally, she calms down. Her eyes meet mine, filled with fear and vulnerability.
“I can’t just take your soul, because…” My voice wavers. I know that if I say what I’m about to, it will make things worse. But I can’t stop myself. “…Because I’m enthralled by you.”
She goes still, eyes wide and steady, as if trying to figure out whether she heard correctly or if this is yet another trap.
The corners of my lips lift. “I find you brave, for not once did you falter under my magic. Most people crumble right from the start.”
Now, she blinks at me.
“I think you’re brilliant. It didn’t take you long to realize I’m also bound by the contract, and you’ve slipped through every one of my snares…And the way you stood tall after that humiliation? It showed me how strong you are.”
Her pupils dilate further. Has no one ever complimented her intellect?
I lean in until my lips brush a single tear glistening on her cheek. Its warm, salty taste spreads through me, igniting a craving for more. I trace a line to her ear. “Your defiance arouses me. It sparks thoughts…dark desires.”
She shudders. I shift to her other side and catch another tear with my lips. “And your beauty keeps me awake. Night after night. Wondering what it would be like”—another tear —“to have it beside me in bed.”
Nicole suddenly tilts her head and crashes her mouth into mine, her hands gripping my shirt. Electricity rips through my spine. Raw, primal hunger rushes through every cell of my body.
I answer without hesitation. My mouth claims hers with the full force of the desire that’s been coiling inside me for days.
I thrust my tongue between her lips and press her against me, letting her feel how much I want her. She moans into my mouth—a sound that rushes through me stronger than adrenaline.
There’s no going back now. I hope she realizes that.
I pin her to the wall. One hand slides down her waist, the other cups the back of her neck, keeping her anchored to my mouth. To me.
My kisses trail from her lips to her neck, where her pulse beats the hardest, where her skin is soft, vulnerable, exposed. I want to stay there longer, to worship every inch of her. But hunger turns me into an impatient beast, ready to kill just to have her, right now.
I move down her collarbone, leaving marks, then trace the curve of her breast with my mouth. As much as I crave to consume her, I tease her slowly, not to take, but to revere.
Nicole tangles her fingers in my hair and arches her back. I suck one of her pink nipples, tempting the tip with my tongue, until it hardens.
She starts trembling when my kisses descend along her flat stomach. I don’t stop kissing her, not for a second, as I relish the tension in her muscles—the subtle tightening, the way she holds her breath at my every move. I keep going, until I’m kneeling before her.
She shudders as I pause just above her navel and exhale.
Then I press my lips to her belly again, lower this time. Her thighs part slightly, drawing my gaze to the smooth, exposed skin between them. The hunger resurfaces, more primal than ever.
“Gaetano…” Nicole’s rough whisper cuts through the fog of lust clouding all my senses. I raise my head and find her gaze, heavy-lidded and dark with yearning, hovering just above the soft swell of her breasts. Pre-cum leaks into my pants.
“I do not obey you,” she says.
My lips curl into a wide smile. By now, I’ve grown used to her defiance. It no longer provokes the urge to tear her apart. Well, not entirely. I still want to. But then, I also crave to put her back together again.
“I know, Baroness.” I run my tongue along the velvet flesh between her thighs. The warm, heady taste of her arousal sharpens my craving.
Digging my fingers into the curves of her ass, I hold her to me and repeat the slow motion of my tongue, following her contours, searching for the most sensitive spot.
Nicole’s hands slide down, grasping my head for support.
I keep going, even slower now. My tongue moves in steady circles, then in small, pulsing motions, until she starts to moan. She tastes better than I ever imagined. With every touch, her thighs relax more, and she yields to me.
I lift my gaze. Her lips are parted, eyelids fluttering. Her chest rises and falls, each breath strained, breasts taut and aching with the rhythm of my tongue. She’s trembling on the edge.
I slip a finger between her slick folds, savoring how readily she takes me in. She clenches around me, drenching my hand in her arousal. The tension in my pants grows savage as I imagine thrusting into her, stretching her to the brink of agony.
When her hips rise to meet me, I curl my fingers deep inside her, and she moans. My tongue keeps stroking, teasing, until her body begins to quake.
And then she lets go. Warm release floods my fingers, and her thighs tighten around my face.
I stay with her until the end, imprinting her image into my mind for the nights to come when I’ll be buried in shadows, starving for her.
I won’t be able to recreate her completely.
But I’ll could make a copy—faint, incomplete.
Red hair scattered across the wall. Lips trembling from pleasure. A body undone by desire.
I want to flip her over and take her right here.
I want to wrap myself around her and protect her from everything, whispering over and over that she deserves to be worshiped. Nothing less.
I need to tell her that the world is full of people who’ll try to diminish her worth, just to make her easier to control.
It’s because of someone who mastered that kind of subtle destruction that I’ve been a prisoner for five hundred years. I know what it’s like to never be good enough. Never deserving enough.
Nicole parts her lips, but whatever words form inside her never make it out.
Her brows knit, her breath unsteady. Confusion shadows her face, but underneath, an emotion flickers.
Not quite trust, more like a brief lowering of a defensive wall she didn’t mean to let down. It’s something I don’t deserve.
The burden of my curse hits me hard.
I rise to my feet. The fact that I find her irresistible, that I resent her father’s manipulations, means nothing. It sure as hell doesn’t change anything. In over a week, I’ll take her soul.
I can show her how to escape the world, but nothing— not even I—can save her from me and my curse.
I press a quick kiss to her lips and step away. “The second trial is over.”
Before she can react, I take her back to her room, leaving her with the torn sketch and the scrapes on her skin from her trial. Then I return to the castle and stand in front of the wall, staring for hours at the slot meant for Harvest 290.
So close now…
And it’s never felt so far away.