Page 17 of Blood and Redemption

Despite how badly I’d love to cave, I can’t.

Wanting her isn’t simple. I can’t just scratch an itch and want her for her body.

I need to keep her safe.

Once all is said and done, I’ll be able to make her mine.

8

Aurora

Call me spoiled, but I’ve grown used to always getting whatever I wanted. When it comes to Rocco, I get this craving when I’m near him, one that I have no strength to control.

Ren doesn’t make getting near him very easy. Like a pest, he lingers in the shadows, knowingly present and watching.

I get it. Rocco’s around twice my age. He’s the first guy I’ve been around, and wanting what I wantcouldbe because of the separation from the rest of the world.

But it’s not. I’ve scrolled through photos of men before, thumb hovering over pixels of sharp jawlines and practiced smiles. Stolen chats in dimly lit rooms when Ren wasn’t looking. Clinical. Curious.

None of them has made me feel like this. Made me want to go against what is normal. Rebel against Ren.

Rocco is not an image to linger on. Not a fantasy to tuck away.

He’s heat and havoc, turning my stomach into a battlefield of fluttering wings every time he steps too close. His fingers sometimes graze a limb attached to my body, and my toes curl against the floorboards.

And the worst part?

He knows.

Smirks when I stiffen at his touch. Leans in just to watch my breath hitch. Plays with fire while Ren’s growls rumble from the shadows like distant thunder whenever he isn’t occupied.

The problem is, Rocco won’t finish what he starts. He’ll get me squirming before he’s pulling out his phone, claiming it’s because he has to deal with issues relating to work.

I must be spoiled. His leaving me so achy makes me want to throw a fit, demanding his attention. Not just a portion of it, or for a limited time. I wantallof it.

Somehow, I survive waiting for the right opportunity to come my way to do something about my frustration.

Ren can’t avoid his job forever. Unlike our father, who got his hands dirty in anything addictive, Ren wanted authenticity. Sure, gambling can have its own addictions, but no one is dying from it.

I don’t think so, anyway.

When someone calls him with bad news, about missing revenue, he has to leave. He’s not willing to drag me out of our home to keep me away from temptations, and Rocco is too busy with his own work to tag along.

I’ve never lied to Ren in my life, but when I tell him I’ll be on my best behavior, I know I’m not being completely honest. He’d never think thatI’dmake the first move. And with Rocco being as busy as he’s been, I’m sure my brother still trusts him one way or another.

When he finally leaves, I wait until I hear the tires of his car catch all the loose gravel. In the clear, I’m on the move without any hesitation.

I’m a partial believer in fate. My belief has only grown since his arrival.

How else can I explain the perfect alignment of it all—Ren called away on business, the house silent but for the drip-drip-drip of Rocco’s shower down the hall?

Coincidence?

Please.

The universe doesn’t make mistakes like this—doesn’t leave a woman alone with a man who looks at her like she’s both sacrament and sin unless it’s intentional.

I move fast, my bare feet padding across our home as I head from one end of our home to the other.

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