Chapter Thirteen
Dark Fire
Stefano
I’ve killed more men than I can count, but nothing has ever unsettled me the way she does, sleeping in my bed.
Andrea is curled beneath the blankets, her breathing soft and even. Strands of dark hair spill across my pillow, her swollen cheek pressed into the fabric. Even bruised, she’s beautiful. Too beautiful. My chest tightens, my fists clenching at my sides.
She almost died. Because of me.
My fault. My weakness. My failure.
I should feel relief. She’s safe now. The cartel’s men are dead, their blood staining the warehouse floor. Matías’s body is rotting where I left it. I should feel peace.
But all I feel is fire.
Because every time I close my eyes, I see her tied to that chair. I hear her whisper my name in the dark. And I want to burn the whole fucking world down for ever daring to touch her.
The door creaks softly. Alceu slips inside, shutting it behind him. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes taking in Andrea before settling on me.
“You didn’t leave her side all night,” he mutters.
“No.”
“She’s not Guilia or Lyrik. She’s not Callie. She’s ... different.”
I glare at him. “What the fuck are you trying to say?”
He tilts his head, his gaze sharp. “I’m saying she’s not built for this life. If you drag her in too deep, you’ll drown her. You’ll lose her.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. “She’s already in it. They took her because of us. Because of me. There’s no going back.”
“And that’s exactly why you should let her go,” he says softly. “Before you turn her into something she’s not.”
Rage surges hot in my blood. I stand, stepping close, my voice low and lethal. “Say it again.”
Alceu’s eyes narrow. “I’ve watched you tear men apart, Stefano. I saw you tonight. You think she won’t see it too? You think she won’t flinch when she realizes the man who saved her is the same man who can break bones without blinking?”
I shove him hard against the wall, my forearm across his chest. “She won’t flinch. She’ll understand. Because I’ll never hurt her. Never.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t fight back. “That’s what scares me. Because you already love her enough to believe your own lies.”
The words slice deep. I release him with a snarl, turning away before I do something I can’t take back. He straightens, rubbing his chest, his gaze steady.
“Be careful, brother,” he murmurs. Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Silence fills the room again. My pulse still pounds, my body coiled tight. I drag a hand over my face, exhaling hard. Love. He used the word I’ve been running from for years.
I glance back at the bed. Andrea stirs, murmuring in her sleep, her fingers clutching the blanket tighter. My chest aches. I cross the room slowly, lowering myself back onto the mattress beside her. She relaxes instantly, curling closer, her face pressing into my arm like it’s instinct.
My throat burns.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, my fingers trembling. She sighs softly, and the sound is enough to undo me. My cock hardens instantly, throbbing against my jeans. Shame and hunger war inside me.
She’s bruised. Fragile. And still, my body aches to bury itself inside her, to claim her so completely that no man will ever dare touch her again.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself still. She deserves tenderness, not the violence burning in my blood. But then her eyes flutter open and instantly focus on me.
“Stefano?” Her voice is soft and groggy, but when her gaze finds mine, her lips curve faintly. “You stayed,” she says again, just like the first time she woke like she still can’t believe it.
“Of course I did.” My voice is rougher than I intend. “I told you I wouldn’t leave.”
She shifts closer, her hand brushing my chest. Even the lightest touch sears me. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
Her brows knit slightly, her fingers curling into my shirt. “Yes, I do. You came for me. You saved me.”
I swallow hard, my jaw clenched. “I almost didn’t get there in time.”
“But you did,” she whispers. “I knew you would.”
The trust in her voice cracks me open. I want to tell her everything—that I dream of her, that I can’t stop touching myself to the thought of her, that every time she walks into a room I feel like I can finally breathe. But the words stick in my throat, choking me.
So I do the only thing I can. I kiss her forehead.
Her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting in a soft sigh. My cock throbs harder, pressing against the zipper of my jeans. I curse silently, shifting slightly so she won’t notice.
But she does.
Her eyes open again, her gaze flicking down, then back up to mine. Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she whispers, “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to remember them when I close my eyes. I want to remember you.”
My chest heaves. “Andrea...”
“Help me forget,” she breathes. “Please.”
The plea shatters the last of my restraint.
I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp.
The kiss is rough, much rougher than she deserves but I am desperate for her, years of hunger pouring out of me at once.
She clings to me, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer.
Her lips are soft but demanding, her tongue meeting mine with a heat that sears straight to my soul.
I roll her beneath me, bracing my weight on my forearms so I don’t crush her. Her body arches into mine, her legs parting instinctively. My cock grinds against her hip, the friction almost unbearable.
“You’re mine,” I growl against her lips. “Say it.”
“Yes,” she gasps, her eyes blazing with something fierce. “I’m yours.”
The sound of it tears a groan from my chest. My hands roam her body, skimming over bruises carefully, reverently.
Every mark makes me want to kill Matías all over again, but every soft moan from her lips reminds me she’s alive, she’s here, and she’s choosing me.
My blood is pumping through my veins laced with lust I have fought for too long.
I kiss down her throat, my teeth grazing her skin. She trembles, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Stefano,” she whispers, her voice breaking on my name.
The sound pushes me closer to the edge than any fight ever has.
But just when I think I’ll lose control completely, she tenses beneath me, her breath hitching. Her eyes squeeze shut, fear flickering across her face.
I freeze instantly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “Look at me.”
Her eyes open, wet with tears. My chest aches at the sight.
“I won’t hurt you,” I vow, my voice steady despite the fire raging inside me. “Not ever. Not like them.”
Her throat works as she swallows, her hand cupping my cheek. “I know.”
The trust in her voice steadies me. I press a gentler kiss to her lips, Slipping from the bed and pulling the blanket higher around her. My body screams in protest, my cock aching painfully, but I force myself still.
She deserves time. Healing. Choice.
So I stay beside her, holding her as she trembles, kissing her softly until her breaths even and her body relaxes again. Only when she finally drifts back into sleep do I let myself breathe. My cock is still hard, throbbing painfully, but I don’t move. I don’t let go.
Because nothing—not rage, not lust, not the darkness clawing inside me—is stronger than this. The need to keep her safe. And the terrifying truth I can no longer deny.
I love her.