I get out of bed, the plush carpet soft beneath my feet. I have no idea how long it’s been since Nicoli brought me home. Days? Weeks? My fingertips lightly graze a bruise on my arm that has turned an ugly shade of purple. Okay, maybe not weeks. I don’t know. Everything is a blur, a few flashes of faces filtering through. The doctor. Leandra’s kind face. Maximo’s concerned expression.
Then there’s Nicoli. He’s there, front and center. My Nicoli. My love.
But I haven’t been able to get myself to leave the room. I’m avoiding them, knowing they’re probably thinking about what I had been through, wondering if I’ll be able to get over it.
I will. I will get over it. I have to.
I tilt my head toward the couch and take in the lump of blankets in a tangle. Nicoli slept on the couch last night. I don’t remember where he slept the night before that. Was I awake then? I rub my forehead, squinting as I struggle to remember. I know Leandra said something about the doctor giving me a mild sedative so my body could heal, but it’s all a blur. I have no idea how long I was asleep. I’m not sure of anything right now.
I make my way to the window, pulling back the heavy velvet curtains to reveal an overcast winter day, delicate snowflakes floating down as it starts to blanket the earth. Nicoli’s car is in the driveway, and the tire tracks in the light dust of snow are fresh, which means he just got home. This morning when I heard him quietly slip out of the room, I immediately knew where he was going. I know how Nicoli’s mind works. He won’t rest until Nunzio is dead, and I find the thought comforting, thinking about Nunzio’s face right before he dies.
The door opens, creaking on its hinges, and I glance over my shoulder at Nicoli, his eyes two dark blue pools of emotion circled in darkness—almost a reflection of my soul. We both stand there in silence, staring at each other, and a part of me wants to run to him, feel his arms around me while I seek comfort in his embrace. But I see the anger, the guilt that clouds his face.
“Don’t blame yourself,” I say, leaning against the windowsill. “It’s not your fault.”
He doesn’t respond and merely stares at me, so I look back out the window again. “It’s my fault. I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone to that wedding. If only I had listened to—”
Two strong arms wrap around my shoulders from behind, pulling me close, and a whimper brushes past my lips. His heat, his scent, his presence—it’s melting into me, warming me from the inside, and I don’t ever want it to stop.
“Tell me what you need, Hummingbird,” he says, his voice low and pained. “Tell me what you need from me, and I will give it to you.”
I suck in a breath, a hot tear slipping down my cheek. “The doctor was here this morning. He says my body has healed.”
Nicoli presses his nose against my head, and I hear him inhale deeply.
“I need you to erase him.”
Nicoli stiffens behind me.
“I need you to erase every trace of him inside me.”
“Mira, no.”
I turn to face him. “Please.”
“You’re not ready. It’s too soon.”
“How would you know if I’m ready or not? You just assume because I’ve been raped, I don’t want you to touch me?”
“Jesus Christ,” he growls, roughing both hands through his hair.
“You sleep on the couch because you think I won’t be able to handle feeling you next to me?”
“You’re healing, Mira.”
“No, I’m not!” I grit out. “I’m not healing because he’s still inside me.”
Nicoli curses under his breath and starts to pace.
“How am I supposed to heal when I still feel him inside me?”
“I want to help you, Hummingbird. I’ll do anything for you, but—”
“But what? Do you think the idea of you being inside me repulses me? I repulse me, Nicoli.” I press my hand against my chest. “My body repulses me because he’s everywhere. I can’t even wash myself when I’m in the shower because it’s like I’m touching him. I can’t take a fucking pee without feeling sick to my stomach. I don’t want to touch anywhere near there because it’s his. He fucking took it from me.”
“Fuck!” he snaps, and I’m sure he’s about to tear his hair from his scalp.
“He took my body without my consent, Nicoli. And I want it back.” I sob through my words. “I want it back, please. Get him out of me. I’m begging you.”
“Mira, you’re still hurting. You’ve been through hell, and you need to heal first.”
“I won’t heal while that monster still infects me from the inside.” Flashes of red crack through my mind. “Or maybe I’m the monster,” I say softly, glancing at my hands. “I killed. I have blood on my hands.”
Nicoli wraps his fingers around my shoulders, leveling me with his stare. “You killed those two men to survive, Mira. Not because you’re a monster.”
What about Marco? I think to myself. I killed him in a fit of rage, but I haven’t told anyone that I remember that night. I’m not ready yet. Maybe I won’t ever be.
I lift myself on my toes, pressing my lips against Nicoli’s, and he palms my cheeks, groaning into our kiss. “You’re not ready.”
“I won’t ever be ready, but it’s the only way. Please help me. Help me erase him,” I beg through my tears. “Take it away. Take it all away.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. I just need his touch gone.”
Nicoli closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He exhales, kissing my forehead. “But I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me to stop when—”
“I promise,” I say, licking the salty tears from my lips. “I promise.”
I let out a breath when he picks me up and carries me to bed, gently laying me down. Shivers dance along my skin, but I can’t ignore the nerves that are tightly wrapped around my stomach. I’m scared. Of course, I am. But I know deep down that this is the only way for me. Nicoli is the only one who can heal all the wrongs that have been done to me.
Just him.
“Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he assures me, and I answer him by slipping the oversized shirt over my head. It’s one of his shirts I slipped on last night while he was sleeping because it smelled like him and comforted me.
I lick my lips as he undresses, his eyes never leaving mine as if he’s searching for a clue—any sign that I’m uncomfortable or scared or hurt. Everyone assumes that someone who’s been violated would never want to be touched again. But everyone is different. Survivors survive in different ways. No person is the same. And this is what I need. Him. The man I’ve loved all my life because I trust him, and not even Nunzio’s corrupt touch could destroy it—destroy what I share with Nicoli.
As he leans over me, his hands hovering over my body, I watch his expression reflect an array of emotions as he gently touches every mark, every wound, every cut.
“I’m going to kill him, Hummingbird,” he murmurs before placing a kiss on the Band-Aid covering the cut Nunzio made on my thigh, and my breath hitches. “I’m going make him pay for every ounce of pain he caused you.” His lips brush tenderly against my skin as he kisses my stomach, causing me to shiver. “I’m going to force him on his knees by your feet, make him confess every little thing he did to you as if you’re God.” My blood starts to thicken and simmer in my veins, and I close my eyes tight. “I’m going to have him beg for forgiveness while his blood flows for you.”
“I won’t grant him forgiveness,” I murmur. The vivid image he’s creating thrills me, the idea of revenge slowly smothering the pain Nunzio left behind. “More,” I urge, weaving my fingers through his hair. “Tell me more.”
Nicoli places a kiss on my pussy, and my core tightens. “Is it turning you on, Hummingbird? Knowing what I’ll do to the man who hurt you?”
“Yes,” I breathe. It’s not a lie. My body craves more of his promises, as it feeds a darkness in me I never knew was there. “More.”
“He’ll taste your wrath while I make him choke on his own blood.” With a slow, leisurely stroke of his tongue through my slit, my back arches with something I haven’t felt in so long. Desire. Pleasure that’s not pain. My body is set alight by the thought of bittersweet retribution flowing from Nunzio’s veins. I want him to suffer. I want him to die slowly, painfully, until he begs for the final blow.
Nicoli moves over me, his hand dragging down my outer thigh as he settles between my legs. There’s no fear, no uncertainty, no nightmares flashing in my head. There’s nothing but desire for rapture…and revenge.
He stares deep into my eyes as he positions himself at my entrance, the blue in his irises glimmering with bright devotion and dark promise. I suck in a breath when he brushes wisps of hair from my face.
“I will cut out his heart,” he says, inching into me, causing my lips to part. “And I will lay it at your feet. I fucking swear it.” He moves, sliding into me, unhurried yet deliberate, and I whimper as his vow burns the newfound steel in my veins. “You will have your justice,” Nicoli whispers against my ear as his lips brush over the shell of it. He grinds his body against mine, moving at a pace that is both excruciatingly slow and electrifyingly intense. I can feel every inch of him as he slides into me with each thrust, pushing in deeper and deeper, and I can feel the life in my soul slowly returning.
Reaching down, I cup his ass, urging him deeper, faster while he continues to paint every color of Nunzio’s end. His rhythm becomes a passionate pace that echoes through the moans that leave my lips. I arch into him, the pleasure starting as a trickle until it explodes as I allow the darkness within to flow freely.
Nicoli thrusts deep, burying his face in my neck. “I will take his life for yours,” he growls, and I feel him come inside me and, in turn, erasing every trace of Nunzio Ferrero.
Every ounce of pain.
Every trace of torment.
Every nightmarish memory…until there’s nothing but ecstasy and a hunger for revenge.
We find our high together, my body trembling against his as our connection flows deeper than ever before. Our bond is cemented in an unbreakable promise that no matter what happens in this cruel world, we’ll always have each other—eternally intertwined.
We collapse in a panting heap, and I feel life flooding my system, returning through the man I love—the man I’ve always loved—and knowing that true justice will be served.
Cold. Hard. Brutal.
The Dark Sovereign way.
