Page 31 of Lourdes & the Mafia
Because she’s dead.
Her lack of life snaps me out of it. My magic pushes back into place, and where she’d been suspended in the air, she suddenly falls and the force of the realization has me jerking a step backwards.
A curse falls from my lips as I stare at her lifeless form.
“Fuck!”
The rage dissipates as soon as it comes, and my fingers tear into the roots of my hair. Panic settles, something I’m not familiar with, as I stare at the mess of flesh that had once been that woman.
She’s in a heap of nothing but blood, muscle, and bone. She is no longer recognizable, and the life force that had been strong inside her is… gone.
“Fuck.”
“You fucking idiot!” Lorenzo cries, tearing at his own hair. “You fucking idiot!” His hands meet my shoulders, shoving me backwards. I go willingly, my feet skidding along the humid ground. “We had a fucking deal with Lourdes and you pull this shit!”
The sound of her name tears me from my stupor, and I glare at my brother. “Who cares?” I spit.
His eyes widen. “What do you mean who cares? We are men of our fucking word.”
“We are more than that,” I remind him. Sometimes, it feels like Lorenzo forgets our station. He forgets what we fucking are. And it is infuriating. Because we will never be anything more than what we are. What we always have been. “We can do whatever the fuck we want.”
Am I being irrational? Maybe. No, I know I am.
I know we had a deal. We are men of our word, and I reneged on that. I’ve fucked up because I was dragged under by the baser part of myself. By my instinct.
I acted like an animal.
No better than the demons and souls of The Pit.
And the bond that tethers my brothers and I together pulses with darkness of a rising fury.
“You fucked up,” Lorenzo says, likely feeling Ramiel’s response as viciously as I. “And there will be consequences.”
Lourdes
AssoonasKaneand Lorenzo disappear, I’m left alone with Ramiel.
The space feels suddenly tighter now. More suffocating. All at once, the memory of my vision comes back to me. Of the hard press of his hand in between my legs, his fingers circling my clit to rip ecstasy from my body.
The orgasm that swept through me just as he disappeared and the vision faded.
Remembering the event seemed to bring the sensations back, and I find my eyes straying towards Ramiel’s hands. His fingers tap slowly against the sleek surface of the table, a slow rhythm that seems to slide down my spine.
Tap, tap, tap.
My breath hitches. He has artistic fingers, long and dexterous, the kind made for playing piano or painting a picture.
The kind made for wringing pleasure from a body.
His fingers lower, palm splaying across the table. The action has me looking up at him to find his dark eyes on me, pupils dilated, nostrils flaring.
And I know he’s thinking the same thing I am.
The energy between us cackles, like lightning charging from his body to mine. My nipples tighten, my pussy leaks, and I rub my thick thighs together to stave off the sensation of desire.
Ramiel’s eyes sharpen. “Come.”
The demand almost makes me groan. Fuck, he hasn’t even touched me yet and I want to do exactly as he says. I bite hard on my bottom lip, and his eyes trace the action.
