Page 58 of Lourdes & the Mafia
Torturing souls should have brought with it release, and yet lately it’s brought nothing but more anger. More rage. I feel more a tortured soul than demon myself these days, and it’s only increasing the longer I’m in her presence.
I feel tortured when I stare at those long legs. When I see Lorenzo leaning across the table to touch her. To see her warm in his touch, knowing that he’s already fucked her. If not with his cock, then his mouth or his fingers.
Knowing that I can’t do the fucking same.
Because I can’t touch her without hurting.
And I hate her for it. Even if I don’t want anything intimate with her, it still feels insulting to not be given the option.
I sound petulant. The truth is I’ve never been interested in a woman before, or at least none held my attention before she so deftly blasted me across the room even while she was unconscious. How am I supposed to protect her if I can’t even touch her? That’s the one thing Ramiel doesn’t know and I refuse to tell him. He doesn’t need to know that she makes me weak. That’s why I didn’t want to protect her in the first place. Because she makes meweak,and a weak man can’t protect a woman like that.
A part of me wants more moments in her presence. To study her, I tell myself. To understand whatever strange magic she has and why I am the only one affected. I’m sure if she digs deep, she’ll find those answers for me, or if I stare at her long enough I can find them too.
Maybe I’m a fool for trying to convince myself that I’m not so weak around her, that I can protect her and everything will be alright.
Lourdes
“Lorenzo,whereareyoutaking me?”
The minute Ramiel said, “Suit up,” Lorenzo grabbed my hand and tugged me down so many twists and turns of the castle, I think I’ve lost count and my sense of direction.
As soon as I ask the question, he comes to a stop in front of a set of wide, tall double doors that are being manned by two demonic creatures with wings, forked tongues, and tails. I shudder at the sight of them standing there like sentinels, unmovable save for their eyes, which flick over my figure.
“You need to suit up,” Lorenzo says, his hand leaving mine so that his palms meet the set of doors, pushing them open. He steps aside in his bigta-damoment, revealing the insides of the room.
Holy fucking Devil Wears Prada Jesús Cristo.
“Oh my…”
This is even better than the fucking bathroom suite.
And that’s saying something.
I all but trample past Lorenzo in my rush to get inside, and when I do, I’m surrounded by the scent of fabrics. By the splashes of color and gems and accessories. By fucking shoes galore. Everything from dresses to lingerie to suits… Some things are folded on clear shelves, others hang from hangers on rich racks, and others sit behind glass cases like precious objects at a museum.
“Dios mío, Lorenzo!” I jump up and down, squealing. “This is the closet of my dreams!”
“You said that about the bathroom, too. I’m starting to think Castle Black is your dream home, and if that is the case, I don’t think I can ever let you leave, Amore.”
He sounds so serious, not threatening but sensual, and it makes me want to literally pounce on him and ride his face until he’s suffocating. The spell is broken quickly as he goes through racks, his fingers slipping across different fabrics. He searches through them, pushing aside hangers and observing outfits only to click his tongue with distaste and search through them again.
Meanwhile, I’m drawn towards the objects behind the glass cases. They’re perfectly aligned along the room, set up with an artistic hand to make it look purposefully cultivated. There are necklaces that drip with red ruby teardrops and matching earrings, a black crown with tips that are pointed like blades, and a simple, almost invisible, silver bracelet on a delicate chain.
“Demonic in nature.”
I jump with a cry at Lorenzo’s voice suddenly whispering in my ear. I whirl, my palm slapping against his chest. “Coño, you scared me!”
He looks unapologetic as his fingers tap the glass of the necklace and matching earrings. “Everything in the glass cases have been forged right here in the Underworld, infused with magic. These,” he gestures at the rubies, “can drain the blood of your enemies.”
I blink, doing a double take of the jewelry. “Are you fucking serious?”
“The crown can summon any weapon from any dimension you want.”
“Yes, because it’s important that you dress to kill, right?”
“Are you truly a fashion mogul if you don’t have a crown that could cut off someone’s balls?”
I chuckle, turning back to the cases, pointing to the delicate chain. “What about that one?”
