Page 16 of Blood and Redemption

Aurora looks between us, frowning. “Maybe that’s the problem. If everyone’s fighting, why don’t you just put down your weapons? It’s awedding.”

“I don’t want to go.” Shaking my head, I tear my eyes away. “Even after all these years, I can’t look at Camellia.”

Not without seeing my mother’s face. My hands remember what my mind tries to forget—the feel of my mother’s throat beneath my fingers. The way her skin flushed pink then deepened to violet. The awful, gasping silence that followed.

It hurts to look at her without the memory resurfacing.

“I want a chance to get out of here.” Moving to stand, Aurora puts her hands on her hips. “I’ll stay by one of you. It’ll give me the chance to meet other people my age, I bet. Where do they live, in the city?”

Watching the way her eyes twinkle, the tension in my chest loosens.

She’s too beautiful.

“Middle of nowhere. A boring estate.” Ren clicks his tongue. “You’d hate it.”

Her gaze doesn’t waver from mine—won’t waver. These past days have sharpened her defiance to a blade’s edge. “We’ll go together,” she says, voice steady as a vow. “The moment it’s too much, we walk out.”

Then she’s crossing the space between us, hands lifting with that same unbearable gentleness from the first time she touched me. Her palms graze my cheeks, thumbs tracing the hollows beneath my eyes.

When she whispers my name, it’s honey and steel—sweet enough to dissolve the last of my resistance, strong enough to hold the pieces together.

This woman isn’t salvation.

She’s a storm wearing skin. And she’s learned exactly how to make ruin feel like mercy.

* * *

Days bleed together. Every accidental brush of her fingers, every stolen glance—it all fans a hunger that won’t fucking burn out.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve fisted my cock to the ghost of her. I’m shameless, fisting my frustrations in the dead of night, the safest hours of the day.

My imagination strains to recreate her moans, but the memory is pale compared to the real thing.

No woman has ever carved herself this deep under my skin.

No craving has ever been this relentless.

I take a page from Ren’s book. Without alcohol clouding my judgment, I make phone calls to catch up and follow up with my family, proving that I’m well and alive.

While he’s willing to let me leave and follow up in person, Aurora’s the one who’s clinging to my fingers, silently pleading with me not to leave her side.

I can’t take her with me. Not yet. Not with the worry of another man trying to get his hands on her.

I need to get my shit together before then. Manage my business and stabilize my empire as best as I can with these background distractions.

As much as it makes my stomach clench up, I look into the wedding, digging into its authenticity. If Aurora wants to attend, she’ll be my partner. However, I won’t lead her to her death.

So, I do what I do best. I manage, orchestrating the men at my disposal. The ones that haven’t given up on me, or their devotion hasn’t wavered.

Some go undercover, watching where each Bertelli member moves. Some carefully spy from a distance. Some tap into their phone lines, listening to every word.

Santino Bertelli despised me for a reason. With a clear head, I got under his skin by stealing what was his.

If I can sneak my way into his sources undetected in the past, I can do it again.

While I work, I know Aurora is itching for my attention. Ever since that stunt on the couch, I’ve been craving to give it to her.

Like a siren making its call, I feel each time she brushes my skin. I catch her biting her bottom lip, hoping I’ll cave to what I’m guessing is an attempt to make me repeat what I’ve already done.

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