Page 35 of Crown of Blood

Even in sleep, Luca looks dangerous. His jaw clenched, one arm flung above his head, the other still anchoring me to him. The moonlight from the window cuts across his face, highlighting the scar that runs through his eyebrow.

He's a god of war, momentarily at rest.

I study the lines of his face, softened slightly in unconsciousness.

His muscles twitch beneath tattooed skin. His brow furrows like he's fighting battles even in his dreams. What does a man like Luca Ravelli fear in the darkness of sleep?

His lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. His lips, which had been so cruel and demanding against mine, now slightly parted.

He looks... human.

The realization hits me. I might be the only person alive who's seen him like this. Completely unguarded. Vulnerable in a way I'm sure he rarely is. No weapons. No guards.

He's the beast with his teeth momentarily sheathed.

I shift closer, drawn by some magnetic pull I can't explain. His heat radiates, wrapping around me as I slide in against his side. The arm across my waist tightens reflexively.

Even in sleep, he claims.

My heart pounds against my ribs, a caged thing trying to escape. Or maybe trying to break free just to give itself back to him willingly.

I don't know anymore.

I want to hate him. Ineedto hate him.

But my skin still bears the marks of his passion. And something deeper than survival instinct makes me want to curl into his warmth, to let his steady breathing lull me into whatever dark dreams he inhabits.

This is madness. This is ruin.

I've become a living paradox: terrified of staying, terrified of leaving. Caught between the monster who claimed me and the man who just showed me pleasure I never knew existed.

The scariest part isn't that he owns me now.

It's that some wild, broken piece of me might want him to.

Chapter Nine

Luca

Iwakebeforethesun, my body trained to rise with the darkness.

But for once, I don't move.

Bianca's pressed against my chest, her cool breath soft and even on my sink, dark hair spilled across my pillow like ink.

My fingers hover over the bruise blooming on her collarbone. A deep purple that darkens to black at the edges, the exact shape of my mouth.

Now she's marked. Claimed.Mine.

The memory of last night burns through me—her perfect ass raised for my palm, those breathy little sounds she tried to swallow, the way she finally broke and begged.

But it's not just the conquest of years of planning that has me transfixed. It's this. The quiet. The peace in her features that I haven't known since before my mother's blood stained cathedral steps.

Bianca shifts closer, seeking my heat. Something cracks in my chest. She fits here like she was carved from my rib, designed to fill this empty space beside me.

And that... that's dangerous.

Because this world I've built isn't made for softness. It devours innocence. Breaks beauty. And she needs to learn that before someone decides to teach her.

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