Chapter 23 #2
‘You saved my life,’ I say, voice low in the sudden hush.
‘I dropped the fucking ball.’ Just like I had all night.
Jesus. ‘I didn’t even see him until it was too late.
’ I graze a gentle thumb across her cheek, afraid of shattering her.
Then I press my forehead to hers. ‘You’ll be okay.
You have no other fucking choice but to be okay, tigra. You hear me?’
She presses her face against me, eyes closed, breath catching. ‘I didn’t want to’ – she swallows, and I feel the tension coil with guilt, relief, something deeper – ‘you would’ve died if I… I’m not ready for that, Rafaelle.’ Her voice catches again, and it snags something inside me on the way.
Pulling taut. Not letting go. A grappling hook catching feelings.
My hands hover over her, unsure whether to shift gears, or lift her into my arms, or simply hold her until the world stops spinning.
Urgency drives me to move.
Slide behind the wheel. Get us the fuck outta here.
I floor the gas and we pull away, adrenaline still thrumming in my veins.
In minutes, the highway behind us stretches dark and empty, a ribbon leading to safety, or further danger.
01:45 – Deserted Back Road, Outside Palermo
I drive at psycho-speed, knuckles white on the wheel, the silence peppered with the tiny sounds of Sofiya’s moans.
I endure that because it tells me she’s still with me.
The blood-soaked bandage on her shoulder pulses with each mile. Early morning fog curls over olive groves and black lava stones. I know the nearest underground clinic is too far; we can’t risk being traced, even with DeLuca in Sofiya’s pocket.
We need to stop, clean her wound properly.
I spot a grove of umbrella pines half-hidden behind a rusted gate. I pull the Range Rover off the road, gravel grinding under the tyres. The engine’s hum dies, and only the whisper of wind and distant gulls remain.
Launching out of the seat, I tear her door open. ‘Okay, baby. I’ll get this cleaned, then we keep going. We have packets for field dressing.’ I reach for her face, brushing a lock of hair away from her damp cheek. ‘You still with me, bedda?’
She presses her forehead against the passenger seat, breath trembling. ‘Yes.’
‘Good girl.’
She sends a glare my way and my heart rate kicks down a notch. ‘I hate that you’re seeing me bleed.’
I grin, draw her carefully to the edge of her seat. ‘Is it a bad time to say I’ve already seen you bleed in the best way known to this red-blooded male?’
Her good arm lashes out with a punch on my arm. ‘Fuck off, Rafaelle.’
‘Atta girl.’
I stride to the back, open the boot and spread out the contents of the duffel of med supplies. Then I help her back and perch her on the ledge. ‘Let’s get this done, baby, then you hit me all you want.’
She watches me scoop out gauze, antiseptic, and spare bandages. Her eyes dart between the supplies and me, alert but vulnerable.
My hands move fast, spilling alcohol over the wound. She white-knuckles the ledge but makes me fucking proud by not shouting when I tear her T-shirt off, stitch and dress her – thank fuck, small – flesh wound.
But she hisses and I feel it in the pit of my stomach.
Once I’m done and the bleeding stops, I wrap a new dressing around her shoulder, knotting it so firmly it can’t slip free. Finish off with a shot of morphine.
‘You good?’
She exhales, nods, and I rest my hand against her back, feeling the tremor in her torso.
‘You saved me,’ I repeat softly, voice raw.
‘And I’ll kill every bastard who tries this again.
’ My fingers graze her hair, then her neck.
‘But let’s get one thing straight. You ever fucking try something like that again, and I’ll spank your juicy ass so hard you won’t sit down right for a month, you hear me? ’
She rears back, eyes widening. ‘W-what? What happened to having each other’s backs?’
I shrug. ‘Turns out it was bullshit. Turns out I can’t stand seeing you in danger. So from now on, I’ll have your back and you’ll stay wherever I put you, capisci?’
She rolls her eyes. And it’s so adorable, I want to kiss her. Keep kissing her until the image of the bullet twitching her body recedes.
‘You know that’s some major sexist bullshit, right?’
‘I do. Question is, what are you going to do about it?’ I dare, stoking her fire so it’ll burn some of this bone-deep terror from my veins. But the other possibility creeps around the back of my skull. ‘Is this where you leverage me for other things?’
She frowns. ‘Other…’ she starts, then her face tightens. Chills. ‘You think I threw myself in front of a bullet to get you to open the gates to that secret club you refuse to name?’
‘Did you?’ I ask, paying far too close attention to her wound, distancing myself from the roar building in my ear. The one that says her answer is way more important than it should be.
She exhales a bitter laugh, her voice sharp and hoarse. ‘I should say yes, shouldn’t I? Make you really think I’m a heartless bitch.’
‘Are you going to?’
Her eyes lock on mine, biting cold and screaming fuck you. ‘What do you think?’
I exhale, a curious relief spiking through my blood.
And I blurt out words I should maybe keep to my fucking self.
‘I think if that’s your version of ambition, bedda, I’ve seen worse.
Hell, I’ve done worse. But… jumping in front of a bullet?
That’s not strategy. That’s instinct. And in my experience, instincts don’t lie.
’ I reach out, brushing a lock of blood-matted hair from her cheek.
‘So no, I don’t think you did it to climb the ladder.
I think you did it for me. And maybe that’s the part that’s fucking me up. ’
She looks away. Exhales too. ‘Stop talking now, Salvatore. You’re making me dizzy.’ She presses her eyes shut, the cool breeze threading through her hair. ‘I’m useless if I faint.’
I press my lips to her temple. Her cheek. The corner of her mouth. ‘You’re not useless. You’re the reason I’m still breathing.’
Her body falls forward, collapsing into my chest. I wrap my arms around her, holding tight.
She’s shaken, soul-deep, and I feel fragile that she trusts me enough to let it happen.
I bury my face in her hair, the scent of her still clinging to the cloth soaked in salt and cedarwood.
The ache in my chest twists me inside out.
‘Fuck, Sofiya. Fear isn’t part of any mission for me.
But you terrified the fuck out of me tonight. ’
Minutes stretch until she tilts her head back, face lifted to mine. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’
I press a kiss to her trembling lips. ‘I’m waiting for that promise, bedda.’ My voice thickens. ‘You did exactly what you needed to. You saved me.’
Her eyes glisten in the half-light. ‘Best I can do is say I’ll think about it. Good enough?’
‘You aiming to drive me crazy, tigra?’
One brown arches. ‘Don’t you mean crazier?’
I don’t laugh. I breathe deep. Stare into her eyes. I press my forehead to hers. ‘How can I thank you?’
Her eyes hook into mine. ‘I can think of a way,’ she returns huskily.
Atta. Girl.
I bury my hands in her hair, tilting her head so our lips meet. The kiss is slow, fierce, nothing like the controlled violence of our fights.
I taste the salt of her rare tears she let slip, the tang of adrenaline still on her lips.
She clutches my tattered shirt as I step closer, pushing her back until she’s lying on the rough carpet of the boot, her legs dangling.
The scent of resin and wet earth builds around us. My body hums, furious and tender. Shaken like I’ve only ever been once in my life. A time that twists around what happened tonight so fatefully, it boggles my mind.
I press my hip to her thigh, brush her knee, and feel her flutter beneath my touch. She’s still shaking, still caught in adrenaline and relief and receding pain, her breath catching in ragged moans as I trail my hands down her sides.
‘Rafa,’ she whispers, voice broken. ‘Are we… out here—’
‘You’re safe.’ I cradle her jaw, forcing her to meet my gaze. ‘Only with me.’
I unzip her pants, draw them down her legs, then off.
She’s a fucking glorious sight in her thong, bra, moonlight and bandaged shoulder. Black boots.
‘My fierce baby assassin,’ I rasp, enthralled more than I’ve ever been with anything. Anyone.
I kiss my way back up, past the swell of her breasts. To that luscious mouth that’ll be my ruin and my salvation.
She arches into me, eyelids fluttering.
Then with a snap of power that tells me the morphine is working – or she just needs fucking really bad – she pushes me away. Rises.
‘What do you need, bedda?’ My hands roam the curve of her hips, squeezing.
She jumps down. ‘Help me with these?’ She indicates her bra, snaps the string of her thong.
Beyond captivated, I comply. And in under a minute she’s gloriously naked, save her boots.
A blushing warrior goddess, intent on having her way.
And fuck, am I going to give her everything she wants.
I prowl towards her.
She backs away, away, away, eyes on me, hips and tits swaying, until her spine meets the rough bark of a pine tree.
My cock throbs against my cargo pants, eager to join the party.
I unzip and free myself, my breath punching out when she immediately grips me. Eyes on me, she pumps me, her breath stuttering as I grow in her hand.
‘Is this what you want, bedda?’ I rasp. ‘What you need?’
She moans. ‘Hmm. More. I want you to fuck my mouth, Rafa,’ she whispers.
Oh. Fuck.
Are you sure?
The tiny prickle of consideration dies a horrible death when she bends at the waist, guides her trembling mouth to my hardness. She parts her lips, eyes glazing as she lowers onto me, and the world snaps to a fragile focus. Her, me, this gravity of need.
‘Fuck.’
‘More,’ she insists. She takes me in, inch by inch, moaning my name.
Rough. Coarse. Mind-shattering.
I know what my baby needs. So I bury my hands in her hair, grip it tight, revel in her louder whimper.
I stagger back three steps to perch on the ledge of the boot of the car.
And then I give my tigra what she wants.
My hips push forward, impelling her deeper until we’re both breathless with the shock of raw contact. Until the filthy glurck glurck glurck of her taking me down her throat mingles with the cicada chirps around her.
Then sound falls away, the rush of my impending nut filling my ears. With a bark of anguished pleasure, I pull away.
I steady her, pressing my hands to her shoulders, lifting her until we’re strung together by need alone.
‘Let me fuck you, baby,’ I rasp, voice rough. ‘Please. I need to be inside you.’
She glances up at me, mouth swollen, saliva and pre-cum dripping down her chin. ‘I need you too.’
‘God, yes.’ I land a hard, filthy kiss on her mouth, her throat, suckle her nipples hard and fast, then grip her hips. ‘Turn around.’
She turns back to the pine tree, braces one hand on the bark.
Back arched.
‘Diu, you’re the most beautiful thing in the world, Sofiya.’ The catch in my voice is confusing as fuck. And yet so right it tunnels deep into my chest.
Over her shoulder, her eyes meet mine. ‘Fuck me hard, Rafa. Please. Make me forget.’
Cristu. ‘You fucking wreck me, you know that?’
I step forward, cock in hand. An eager, willing supplicant to her pleasure. I hiss when my hardness pushes an inch into her wet hole.
One fucking inch and it’s already – nearly too much.
She trembles, swept by panic, but I catch her face, gaze steady. ‘All the way. Don’t stop.’
I slam inside. She screams.
I roar, frightening birds out of trees.
Hands on her waist, I fuck her hard and deep, each thrust driving me deeper into a new, different kind of psychosis.
One that whispers mine mine mine and kill kill kill to anyone who tries to take this… take her from me.
She saved my life tonight. Doesn’t that mean she owns me now?
I kick her legs wider apart, my goddess in silk skin and black boots. She responds by bending deeper, giving me more of that ass, that addictive cunt.
We move together, her body stacked against mine, back to chest, each thrust a fractured hush. Pine needles drop onto bare skin. I press deeper anyway, filling the hollow of her, desperate to be all she needs.
She cries out, wet warmth swallowing me. ‘Yes! God, Rafa, it’s so good. So good.’
I match her breath, thrusting harder, chasing the orgasm that builds like a storm behind my ribs. ‘Take it, tigra. Take it all. It’s fucking yours.’
Taking hold of that permission, her slick pussy grips me tight. Tighter.
With another scream, she comes, hard. Shudders violently, teeth clenched, eyes clamped shut. My name rockets from her throat – a confession and a curse. I close my eyes, and the world narrows to her gasp and the tightening coil in my stomach.
I follow her over the edge, white-hot rapture exploding in my chest. I come deep inside her, hot and thick, bones rattled. My breath hitches. I collapse against her, chest heaving, as the pine’s needles scratch into my shoulder blades.
She drifts down from the release, I catch her as she sags, stagger back to sit on the ledge once more.
Sofiya collapses against me in a tangle of limbs and sweat. A light breeze whistles through the branches above, cooling our tangled skin. I rest my face in the nape of her neck, the scent of her and pine swirling around me.
‘Shh,’ I murmur, voice soft. ‘Just rest now. I got you.’
She wraps an arm around me, pressing close. ‘You saved me,’ she says, voice husky. And I know she doesn’t mean the bullet. I brought her back from the edge of the unthinkable after driving her to that edge of spilling family blood.
Did I say we were fucked up? I kiss her hair. ‘And you saved me.’
We remain there, in the hush of scorched earth and pine, breath stuttering in unison – two warriors undone by the same moment of mercy.
Outside, the road stretches on, waiting for us to decide if we will walk it together… or race into the next battle alone.