CHAPTER 13 #3
"You heard what he said," I tell her, my voice dropping back to that dark vibration. "You have nowhere to go. No brother. No name. You’re a ghost, Fiorella. A ghost that belongs to me. Are you listening? I’m the only thing between you and a shallow grave. Say my name. Look at me."
She gasps, the sound catching in the back of her throat.
"You’re mine now," I murmur, my thumb pressing harder into her lip. "Not a hostage. Mine."
I slide my hand from her face, tracing her jaw, until my fingers bury themselves deep in the tangled chestnut hair at the nape of her neck.
I yank her head back just enough to expose the long, pale column of her throat, and I pull her body flush against mine.
The hard, cold ceramic plates of my tactical vest collide with the soft curves of her body beneath the jacket.
The zipper catches sharply on the fine hairs at the base of her neck. She lets out a sharp, startled gasp.
"Feel that?" I demand, holding her tight against the armor. "That’s the only safety you’ll ever have. Don't move."
I hold her there. The smell of gun oil, my sweat, and the dark, heavy scent of my own arousal fills the space between us. I feel her shiver. It’s a raw, biological reaction to my proximity. The heavy metal buckle of my belt presses hard into the soft flesh of her hip.
"Breathe me in," I order, my voice a low rumble vibrating straight from my chest into hers. "You like the smell of a killer? Answer me."
She doesn't answer. She just stares up at me, her chest heaving against mine.
I dip my head. My nose trails hotly along her jawline.
I inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of her fear mixed with her own rising heat.
My stubble grazes her cheek, leaving a faint, stinging red burn across her pale skin.
I linger at the sensitive, pulsing spot just below her ear.
My hot breath ghosts over her skin. The fine hairs on her neck stand straight up.
"You taste like salt and ruin," I whisper against her skin. "I'm going to brand you, Fiorella. Right here."
I open my mouth. I drag my teeth sharply against her pulse point.
I don't bite down yet. I just let her feel the razor edge of my teeth scraping her flesh.
Her heart is absolutely hammering against my lips.
It feels like a trapped bird trying to break out of a cage.
I grip her hip with my free hand, my thumb digging hard into the soft flesh of her waist.
"Your heart is racing," I taunt her, my breath hot on her neck. "Is it fear, princess? Or do you want this?"
Her head falls further back, exposing her throat entirely, completely surrendering the territory.
"Mine," I growl. "Keep that sound in your throat. Don't stop."
I bite down.
I bite hard enough to force a sharp, breathy moan out of her.
It echoes loudly off the concrete walls.
I sink my teeth into the muscle of her neck, hovering right on the very edge of drawing blood.
I claim her body with a violent, animalistic focus.
I latch onto her skin with my mouth and suck violently.
It’s a deliberate, wet, bruising kiss. I am making a mark that will turn purple and black by morning. A warning to anyone who looks at her.
"Everyone will see this," I mutter against her skin, my lips pulling rhythmically. "Every man who looks at you will know. You belong to the dead."
Fiorella’s hands fly up. Her fingers claw blindly at the heavy nylon straps of my tactical vest. She doesn't push me away.
She anchors herself to me. Her nails dig frantically into the tough fabric as she arches her spine, pressing her pelvis tighter into mine, leaning completely into the pain and the wet heat of my mouth.
One of her manicured nails breaks with a sharp snap against a plastic buckle.
"Hold onto me," I tell her, my voice muffled against her neck. "Don't you let go. Accept it."
The wet, explicit sounds of my mouth working her flesh fill the cavernous room. Renato shifts his weight uncomfortably in the background. He clears his throat, staring hard at the cracked ceiling, his face flushing red. The air is thick, suffocating. I want him to hear it.
"Look at her, Renato," I say loudly, pulling back just an inch. "See what happens to what I own? This is her life now."
I look down at her neck. The skin is hot, raised, and already swelling into a vivid, dark bruise. I slowly drag my tongue over the fresh mark. I lick it with a slow, deliberate stroke, soothing the sting of the bite. I blow a cool breath over the wet skin, making her shiver violently against me.
"Beautiful," I whisper, wiping a drop of saliva from her collarbone. "A Silvestri marked like a common whore. And you love it, don't you?"
I pull back slowly. My chest is heaving. I lock my dark eyes onto hers. She is staring at me, totally wrecked. I keep one hand wrapped firmly around her neck, resting my thumb directly over the center of the fresh bruise. I press down on it.
She lets out a small, sharp gasp of pain.
"Now you know," I say flatly. "You’re not going back. You’re just mine."
I let my hand drop from her neck. I turn away, walking back to the table to grab my rifle. The extra ammo boxes need to be sorted before we pack the duffels.