Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Silence. Then I admitted, “Probably both.”
“They won’t just let him go,” she continued, faster now. “But if they have a hold in the Five Families—if they have you—their port, their access—then it’s a fair trade.”
My stomach sank anyway. “Exactly.”
Her gaze dropped from my mouth to the floor. “So, all that’s left is your task. The thing that sets everything in motion.”
“Yes.” No big deal, just bring back a missing heir, take his place in a crime family, prove utter loyalty to do so and hold myself plus everything else together. Sure. Yes. Easy.
She let out a shaky breath. “And that’s why we’re here.” A pause. “What—do we have a few hours?”
“You’d make an excellent assassin,” I joked.
She snorted. “Promise to train me, and I won’t rat you out.”
“I promise.” I was serious too. I would do anything for her—anything I was allowed to that is.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I believe you.”
The words hit harder than getting punched, shot, beat.
“But,” I said softly, “before the hours are up—before it’s time—I’d really like to sit with you and pretend the future doesn’t exist, cheesy as it sounds.”
She laughed through a stream of fresh tears “Is this the part where you ask for pity sex?”
I barked out a laugh. “No. Never pity.” I met her gaze. “Real sex. With the woman I would choose over and over again.”
Her lashes fluttered as she blinked the tears away. “Why?” she whispered. “Why choose me?”
“Because I see no one else,” I said simply. It was my truth. Raw. Her. “You want me to choose air instead?”
“And Raven?” Her voice wavered as she looked away. She was still worried. Jealous. Adorable. “What about her?”
“She’s not you, Tempest,” I said without hesitation. “She will never be you.”
She lifted her chin as if to say that’s right. “Good. Because I’m not her.”
I captured whatever she was going to say next. It wasn’t a tender kiss. I pulled her into my arms without thinking of anything but tasting her and begging for forgiveness later. She reached for my side. “Does it hurt?” I shook my head and deepened the kiss. Pain was nothing compared to what she would suffer later—what I would do later.
She slowly unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it onto the floor. The blood had already scabbed over, so as long as she didn’t violently attack me with her body, I would be okay.
Tempest kissed along my jaw, soft and reverent, like she was memorizing me.
God, it felt good. I didn’t deserve her attention or her comfort—but I took it anyway. I was starving for even a moment with her. Something to dull the guilt pulsing through my veins.
Mine to take.
His life was mine to take.
She was mine too.
Life, it seemed, was never going to be fair to her. Not once.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the wound, and she froze.
“Does it hurt?” she whispered. “Honestly?” What was her fascination with this? With this fresh wound? “You know there are only two reasons for this, right? Only a family member of high ranking, a captain, made man, a boss, can etch this into your body instead of waiting for the tattoo. It’s to honor the fallen of your own family and claim you as ours—or it’s a way to say goodbye, I forgive you, and see you as mine anyways. I wonder, who gave this to you, and which it is, Louis.” She wondered, but she knew. She had to know or have an inkling, try as she may to fight it to her last breath.
“It doesn’t hurt as much as it should,” I said honestly. “Because it felt earned, in the moment, and wounds that are earned don’t burn as bad, they don’t cut as deep.”
She frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she rested her forehead against my chest, breathing me in like she was afraid I might disappear if she didn’t anchor herself to me.
“How long?” she asked quietly. “Until you fulfill your promise to the Vescovi family? Until our game is finished?”
“Seven hours,” I said. “Seven hours until we finish what we started.”
She swallowed. “Then stay,” she said. Not demanded or yelled, or cried, simply asked. “Stay with me. No plans. No futures. Just… us.” She didn’t know, but seven hours might be all we had left.
I cupped the back of her head, pressing my lips into her hair. “I can do that.”
Her hands slid around my waist, careful of the wound, and she looked up at me with those eyes—too perceptive, too knowing. Too smart for her own good, Tempest Alfero.
“Promise me something,” she said.
Anything. I would promise her anything in that moment.
“Stay,” she said again, but this time it was different. “When it’s time. Don’t disappear without telling me. Give me… ten minutes. Just ten for goodbyes even if you want to run. No matter what happens.” She sniffed. “I’ll wait ten minutes and find you, I’ll let you tell me your story and then we decide where we are on this journey, together or forever apart.”