Chapter 33 Raven
RAVEN
The elevator ride up to our floor feels endless.
My body aches in places I didn't know could hurt, and dried blood cracks on my skin every time I move.
I lean against the wall, stealing glances at Gio's profile—the strong jaw, the intensity that never quite leaves his eyes even when he's being gentle.
The doors open, and we step out into the hallway.
"Actually, do you mind bringing the first aid kit to my apartment instead?" I ask, my voice sounding raspy. "I want to get out of these clothes."
The fabric of my blouse is torn and stained with blood. The memory of being stuffed into that trunk, the smell of fear and gasoline, clings to me like a second skin.
Gio turns to me. "Absolutely."
Gio walks me to my door, his hand never leaving me as I slide my key into the lock. Once I push open the door, his hand leaves me.
"I'll be right back," he says and disappears into his apartment.
Inside, I peel off my ruined clothes, dropping them in a heap on the bathroom floor.
I consider burning them later. The mirror reveals blooming purple bruises across my ribs, angry red marks on my wrists where they bound me, a slightly swollen eye, and a cut along my cheekbone that's crusted with dried blood.
I wash quickly, avoiding the most painful spots, just wanting those bastards' touch off my skin. Water swirls reddish-pink down the drain. I walk naked into my room and slip into an oversized T-shirt and pajama pants, the clean clothes feeling like heaven.
When I come out into my living room, Gio's already there, first aid supplies scattered across my couch. He's changed too. He's wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans; a relaxed look I don't often find him in. His hands are clean now, no trace of blood remaining.
He looks up at me as he's unwrapping some bandages. "Come sit down here so I can take care of that beautiful face of yours."
I smile as I feel my face turning warm. I slide onto the couch beside him. It feels good to have him with me again.
"Now, hold still," he says, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger. His touch is so gentle it almost doesn't feel like him. I almost laugh because I'm not sure it's in Gio's nature to be gentle, but he's here, trying.
"This will sting," he warns before pressing an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball to the cut on my cheek.
I flinch, hissing through my teeth.
"Sorry, sorry." His voice is low, concentrated. "But we need to clean it properly."
"I know." I try to stay still as he works, his face inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin.
I wince again as Gio gently applies antibiotic ointment to the cut. The sting is immediate, but his concentrated gaze on me is almost more disarming than the pain.
"You don't have to do this, you know. I can clean myself up," I say, falling back into my old ways.
"Raven, if we're going to be together, you're going to have to get used to me taking care of you," he says, continuing to fix me up. "And while I don't have to do anything," he says, dabbing gently around my nose, "I want to."
I smile, and my eyes drift past him to my canvas, the one I did for him. The black paint stands out more starkly now against the white background, the word "SORRY" meaning so much more now.
"Did you see my note I left you?" I say softly.
Gio follows my gaze to the canvas. "I did," he says before returning to tend to my face.
Guilt twists in my stomach. "I... I know it was wrong. What I did. With my father, I mean. I just—" I shake my head, words failing me. "I didn't know what to do." I look up at him. "I truly am sorry."
Gio stops and looks at me. "If anything, I should be the one apologizing. I should have stood my ground, stayed, or made your father leave. Then you wouldn't have..."
He can't finish the rest. I hate seeing him like that because it's not his fault. I pushed him away. I quickly change the subject.
"Good thing I grabbed that AirTag, huh?" I add. "Put it in my pocket. I don't even know why. I guess deep down, I wanted you to know where I was."
Gio gives me a smile. "Smart woman."
"I try." I manage a small smile in return.
He continues cleaning my wounds in silence for a moment. His gentle touches and presses are almost hypnotic, relaxing me. Save for the sound of the occasional crinkling of bandage wrappers, it's just nice to be with him in a quiet moment.
Then a question bubbles up inside me, one that's been nagging at me since this all began, or rather, since I cared to acknowledge my feelings for him shifting.
"Why me?" I ask.
"What do you mean?" He doesn't look up from his work as he applies a butterfly bandage to the cut on my cheek.
"I mean, this kind of protection with women, is this how you meet girlfriends?" I say and hide behind a grin. I'm acting casual, but I am curious.
Gio shakes his head. "No. Never." His voice is firm.
"But when I first came to the gallery and saw you, there was something about you.
" He sets the first aid supplies aside and meets my gaze directly.
"You got under my skin. And while I didn't know if you were telling the truth or not, I guess subconsciously, I felt it was more likely you were innocent, caught up in a mess. "
I feel my heartbeat speed up.
"And with the cameras..." I trail off, watching his face carefully. "Do you like watching me?"
Gio pauses, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he smiles at me. "Not at first. I mean, you know, it was a job. But I found it harder and harder to justify my time watching you. In the end, you're beautiful, so of course I do."
I roll my eyes but can't help the warmth spreading through me. "God, obsess much?"
He laughs. "At first, I thought my obsession with you was just my way of trying to fix what happened to Marco," he says, his voice lower now.
"But I've recently realized that it has nothing to do with that and everything to do with how I feel about you.
" His hand comes up to cup my face, careful to avoid the bruises.
"I'm not one for feelings and all that mushy shit, but I could never stand another man touching you for as long as I live now that I know you.
So, yeah, I'm very obsessed with you, Raven. "
I bite my lip. "Me too."
"You're obsessed with yourself?"
"No!" I playfully hit his shoulder. "You. I'm obsessed with you. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about before I go to bed. It's exhausting," I say through a smile.
He leans in and kisses me softly.
"Actually, for longer than I even want to admit, I kind of liked knowing you were."
The intensity in his eyes makes me start to feel that fire like only he can. This man—this dangerous, complex man—loves me. Wants me. Would kill for me. Do anything to keep me safe.
"So if no other man can ever touch me..." I lean forward and rub my thumb across his stubbled cheek. "I guess I'm yours forever then."
The words seem to ignite something in Gio. His eyes flash with that possessive fire I've come to crave.
He leans in. "Say it again," he whispers, his hand sliding to the back of my neck.
"I'm yours," I repeat, and as the words leave my lips, I realize they're true.
Somewhere along this twisted path, I've given myself to this man, not just my body, but something deeper.
Something you're only meant to give your person, the one you'll spend eternity with.
The kind of person that would burn the world down to keep you safe.
We stay still for a moment, and then Gio continues being my doctor.
"There," he says, securing the last bandage on my wrist where the restraints had cut into my skin. "All fixed up."
His fingers linger there, warm against my pulse, brushing my wrist over the bandage, and I watch his face.
"Thank you," I say, suddenly noticing how the couch cushions have dipped to bring our bodies just inches apart.
Gio's gaze drops to my lips, and something electric passes between us. Despite everything—the trauma of the night, my aching body—I feel that familiar warmth spreading through me.
"Raven," he says, his voice low.
I lean forward, eliminating the space between us. His lips touch mine, gentle at first, hesitant. I press closer, my hands resting on his firm chest.
His gentleness dissolves like honey in hot water. His arms wrap around me, careful of my injuries, but there's nothing careful about the way his mouth claims mine. I gasp as he deepens the kiss. His hands tangle in my hair, angling my head to give him better access.
The pain in my body seems to dissolve, replaced by a different kind of ache altogether. My skin comes alive under his touch, hypersensitive and craving more. I feel myself arching into him, my body making decisions my brain hasn't caught up to yet.
I want this. I want him. After everything that's happened, I need to feel connected to something real and solid and good. And despite his darkness, despite the violence I've witnessed, Gio is somehow all those things to me now.
His hands slide down to my waist, gripping tighter, and I whimper into his mouth. The sound seems to snap him back to reality. Gio pulls away abruptly, his breathing ragged.
"Sorry," he says. "I don't want to hurt—"
I place a finger over his lips, silencing him. "I want you," I say, my voice showing my lust. "Just be gentle with me."
His eyes darken at my words, and he nods slowly.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"Yes," I answer without hesitation. "I need you, Gio."
He stands, reaching for my hands to pull me up with him. We move toward the bedroom, his arm supporting me.
In my room, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casts everything in warm amber. Gio turns to me, his hands finding the hem of my T-shirt, and I raise my arms, allowing him to slowly lift the fabric over my head.