Page 42 of Branded in Love
“Gavriil...” I begin, not knowing what to say. I swallow with difficulty and force myself to speak. “Did we win?” My gaze glides to his black bespoke trousers, smeared with dirt and dark blotches of dried blood.
His firm hand smooths on my knee. “Wewon…” he says with an empty stare. Bitterness clings to each word.
My hand folds on his. Then, gently, I pull it towards me and press it against my lips.
Gavriil startles, becoming instantly awake. His gaze finds mine, darkened brown eyes full of sorrow. His hand glides away from my hold and cups the side of my face. “I’m sorry you had to see that…” he whispers, pain straining his expression.
Tears rim my eyes. “I only care that you’re alive,” I say in a broken voice. A tear rolls down my cheek. He smears it away with a soft stroke of his thumb. A wry smile thins his lips. In an instant, he pulls me to him, trapping me in his powerful arms corded in muscle.
“We have him,” Sasha says, tilting his head towards us. “Marco.” He pauses. “They’re taking him to the house.”
My breath catches in my throat as my heart sprints into a gallop. “Is he okay?” I beg, despair breaking through me.
“He’s alive,” Sasha tells me. He then turns away and points out something to the driver.
He's alive.I cover my mouth with my hand, but it's too late. A quiet sob sails through my lips.
Dawn spreads on the horizon as the car drives down Via Flaminia. Gavriil holds me tight, and for that, I’m thankful. Every bone in my body feels as if it's turned into dust. I just want to go home.
32
LUCIANA
With haste, I pick up my gown’s train and dash up the manor’s front steps before Sasha and Gavriil reach the entrance. The doors are open. A wave of apprehension falls over me as I consider the state in which I’ll find Marco. I will never forgive myself for the harm those vampires might have caused him. It’s all my fault. I should have answered his phone calls, should have texted him back. But I was too busy holding childish anger and resentment against him... What good is it to think of it now? I push those thoughts to the back of my mind.
My heels clank against the marble checkerboard floor when I storm into the vast hall. A horde of men gather in the vestibule, members of Gavriil’s Elite. There are unfamiliar faces too, however. I’m guessing they’re members of Vladimir’s pack.
Dima is standing in the center of the hall. “Where is he?” I ask him in a soft voice.
His dark green eyes set on mine for an instant. Dima tilts his head towards the parlor. I nod and move past the group, each breath burning in my throat.
I open the parlor’s doors, fearful of what I’ll find. More men crowd the room, concealing the view from me. In an instant, I hear Marco’s voice. He’s finishing a story in his usual blasé tone. Roaring laughter rises from the Ursa men... Bemusement washes over me. I push my way through the horde. And finally, I see Marco—lounging on a sofa, sipping from a glass of whisky on the rocks.
Marco’s mask of indolence fades the minute his eyes land on me. He puts the drink away and shoots to his feet.
“Marco...” I breathe, sweeping him with an appraising stare. It takes me a moment to realize he’s unharmed. Or at least that’s what it looks like.
Without saying a word, Marco races to my arms. He holds me and comforts me, when it should be the other way around. Tears stream down my cheeks, and I sob like a girl while I hold him even tighter. “Marco!” I gasp. “You’re all right!” But what I really mean is,You’re alive.
Marco parts from me, briefly, and looks into my eyes. “I’m all right,cara…” he assures me, smearing away the tears from my cheeks. “No bites or anything.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders and takes me to the couch where we sit.
“Now, let me begin by saying...” He throws me a knowing look. “I told you I didn’t like that Trent dude!” Marco scowls at me playfully.
A bitter smile twists my lips. I nod and sniff, more composed now. “Did they do anything to you?” I ask him in a shaky voice.
“Oh, I wish! They weresogorgeous,” Marco says, looking at the gathering of Ursa men. They laugh and heckle him for preferring vampires over shifters. “I’m joking, guys. Honestly!” He grins and faces me. “Turns out, my blood is not all that appealing to vampires.” He shrugs in regret. “They were so obsessed with you, they never took an interest in me.”
“God, Marco...” I shake my head. “That sounds horrible!” Despite his perpetual merriment, I’m sure it must have been terrifying.
Marco holds my hand with warmth. “The minions treated me like a guest,” he adds in a more serious tone. “The vampire boss… not so much.” Marco sneers.
“He’s dead now,” Gavriil says in a dispassionate voice.
I turn to the doorway and see him. Chestnut hair tied back into a low bun, cleaned up and wearing a fresh change of clothes. Casual jeans and a black pullover sweater.
Marco raises a groomed eyebrow. “Well, good riddance! That dude was nasty.” He cracks a smile and relaxes on the couch. “So, you guys are really shifters,” he adds, eyes widened in amazement. Marco glances at the horde. “Bears and wolves!”
Gavriil slips next to me. “I can take his memories away,” he speaks close to my ear, a warm hand folded over mine. “You’re his friend, my love. Would you want me to do it?”
