CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
“Rafaelle,” I call again, a little louder this time.
He calms down but still doesn’t wake. The tension slowly drains from his face though. His breathing evens out and the lines between his brows disappear. I blink, watching in surprise.
That was unexpected. Maybe hearing his name helped. Or maybe it was a coincidence.
Either way, he seems fine now. And I really should leave.
Satisfied that he isn’t fighting imaginary demons in his sleep anymore, I start to turn toward the door. But then something catches my eye. A notebook beside his pillow.
My eyes narrow. Surely not.
But on a closer look, I realize it’s my song book. The one I asked him for yesterday. My teeth clench as a wave of irritation rushes through me. Not only is he not supposed to have it, the fact that he’s keeping it so close to him, can only mean one thing.
The idea that he read it makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.
Slowly, I approach the bed.
I’m getting my notebook back.
I lean over him, slightly reaching for the familiar cover. Just as my fingers brush the book however, everything goes wrong. One second I’m standing, the next I’m airborne.
A startled scream leaves me as the world flips upside down. Strong arms close around me and the notebook flies from my hand.
I’m on my back against the mattress and a heavy weight pins me down. Solid steel kisses my throat and every thought vanishes. My heart stops as black eyes stare into mine. He doesn’t even look like he was asleep a second ago. He’s completely alert, predatory.
For one terrifying second, I can tell Rafaelle doesn’t recognize me. I can see the instinct for violence in his gaze, the calculation. Then something shifts and recognition crashes into him.
The knife doesn’t disappear though. He doesn’t move.
Neither of us do. His body still cages mine against the mattress.
Our faces are so close I can feel the warmth of his breath.
The tension in his body dissipates but his hand remains against my neck, the blade on my skin.
The threat imminent enough that my throat dries even more.
My heart is trying to escape my chest and I can feel that his isn’t doing much better.
“For fucks sake, Liliana,” Rafaelle growls, his voice rough with sleep and irritation. “What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?”
“Could you please move the knife?” I ask, annoyance rippling through me.
He blinks looking down at me, heat in his expression. His smell clouds around me, making it difficult to think.
“Maybe I’ll use it,” he murmurs, shifting the blade closer to my skin.
Surprisingly, I’m not even scared. I wonder where my self-perseverative instincts have gone.
Because even now, with a knife at my neck, all I can think about is his body pressed against mine.
His legs straggling my hips. My eyes slide down his body.
He’s not wearing any pants, only a pair of boxer briefs that make me want to rock my hips against him and slide my hands over the bare skin of his chest.
I drag my eyes back up to his and a blush heats my cheeks at his arched eyebrow. He can tell I was checking him out. Fuck. I remember his threat and grit my teeth.
“If you’re going to stab me, make it quick. Push the tip of the knife into the side of my neck and I’ll die instantly. There’ll be less blood on your sheets that way,” I say without thinking.
He stills for a second and I catch anger drifting in his eyes, coupled with amusement. The knife disappears and he exhales a harsh breath before leaning backwards on his haunches taking his weight and heat with him.
“How do you know that?” he asks after a second, his curiosity sharpening.
I sit up on the bed, grateful for the space between us. It gives me room to breathe. “I’ve been researching the best ways to kill you with your own knife.”
He rolls his eyes, completely unbothered.
“I took an anatomy class my first year of college,” I add. “Dropped it eventually, though. Turns out I don’t have the stomach for dead bodies. Or blood.”
Rafaelle chuckles dryly like I’ve said something funny. It never ceases to amaze me how something as simple as a smile transforms his entire face. But even through it, I can still see the traces of exhaustion. I suddenly feel bad for waking him.
“Why’d you drop out of college?” he mentions, surprising me.
“How do you know that?”
He doesn’t reply, eyes trailing over me with a look that sends a hot rush through me. I search for a distraction and come up with a defense.
“I’m taking online classes,” I say, unsure why I’m even telling him this. “For college. To finish what I started. Although I’ve missed a couple of classes since I’ve been here, I had three assignments due yesterday.”
His expression softens, “I’ll give you your laptop back. And your phone. You can attend your classes, do your homework and talk to whoever you need to talk to. Tell your mom you’re safe.”
My brows go down in confusion, “How do you know I won’t call the police?”
“You could, but we both know it wouldn’t help. No one can save you from me, Liliana.”
A shiver racks through me at those words. The room relapses into silence for a beat.
“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here,” he states, not looking the least bit angry that I invaded his personal space, which puts me at ease.
“I came here for this,” I tell him, reaching for my notebook and raising it up in triumph.
He glances at it with a smirk, “You can have it, little siren.”
“You read it, didn’t you?”
“Don’t worry about that,” he yawns and the action is so soft and gentle that I feel my heart melt.
“When’s the last time you slept? You look exhausted,” I murmur.
He shrugs, running a hand over his face.
“I could stay,” I suggest, the words escaping my lips before I can stop them.
Shut up, Liliana.
“What?”
“For you to fall asleep again. It’s my fault you woke up. Maybe I could help you sleep again?”
He looks hesitant, cautious.
“Don’t worry, I won’t slit your throat while you sleep. I even left Eliana in my bedroom.”
Confusion flares for a second before it clears with realization.
“You named my knife, Eliana?” he questions incredulously.
“It’s mine now,” I remind him.
“Why’d you have to name it Eliana?” he grumbles.
“Just go to sleep, Rafaelle,” I say with a smile.
He rolls his eyes but there’s no denying the humor in his expression. Eventually he falls onto his back and I shift close to the edge of the bed, giving him some room. He turns on his side, watching me for a couple of seconds.
“This could be so much more fun if you were naked,” he starts. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Sleep,” I scold.
He sighs, “If I start thrashing again, just wake me up. If I say anything weird, ignore it, okay?”
“Yeah.”
Then I start humming quietly under my breath. It’s one of the lullabies I wrote for Mila. She falls asleep faster whenever I sing it.
There’s so much emotion in his eyes right now, I don’t know where to begin to deconstruct them. I glimpse surprise and gratitude and other things I can’t explain.
The look in his eyes is intense enough that I feel like I could burst into flames the longer I spend in their depths. But he eventually spares me by closing them.
I’m not sure how long I spend there. Against the headboard in Rafaelle Vitale’s bedroom, singing to him as he sleeps. Eventually, his breathing evens out and his body relaxes. I watch his face smooth over and I keep watching as sleep claims him.
About an hour passes before a soft yawn escapes me. It would be so easy to lie on the bed and go to sleep at his side. The bed is comfortable and the heat from his body wafts over, beckoning me.
But I know it would be a mistake.
Falling asleep with the devil at my side is tantamount to giving him my soul. Or even my heart.
So despite how beautiful he looks right now. Or how appealing, I manage to slide out of the bed. My feet are as silent as I can make them as I walk towards the door. I open it gently and close it, exiting the room like I was never there.
As I walk back to my room, I can’t help but think about the name he called out from his nightmares.
Who is Tara? And what was she to him?
I have a feeling she’s the reason he’s the way he is. Tara might be the clue to unlocking all of Rafaelle’s secrets. To finally understanding his jagged edges and the obscurities.