I killed him.
My brother.
His blood paints my hands, thick crimson liquid seeping into my fingernails. I feel nothing. Or maybe I do, but it’s not regret, remorse, or even guilt. It’s anger, madness, a hot branding iron pressed against my chest, the searing metal burning away every trace of my humanity.
It’s his fault, after all. He had it coming. He had it coming for years, years that I thought he was dead. Years I spent mourning him.
I stare at his lifeless body lying on his side while blood pools around his corpse. There’s this tingling at the back of my neck that sends shivers down my spine. One would think it’s shock, or panic, or fear. But it’s none of those things. Not even close. It’s a stir of adrenaline, a charge of exhilaration, a high I’ve never experienced before.
I kick at his feet.
I kick again.
Harder. Angrier. Until my scream tears from my throat, slamming against the cold walls of the mausoleum. He didn’t deserve to die here in this sacred place. He should have bled out on the pavement where the dogs can piss on his decaying corpse.
“You fool.”
I jerk around, the eery voice slithering around my bones. “Who are you?” My voice echoes around the chamber of death. “Who’s there?”
“Did you really think it would be this easy?” A shadow creeps up the wall, moving across the colored glass of the window, a sudden chill causing me to shiver.
“Who are you?” My mind races, the adrenaline now laced with a deep-seated fear. “What do you want?” I step back toward the door, but my feet feel heavy, and I can’t move as I watch the shadow get closer. Like a flame, it grows as it consumes all the oxygen in the building, my lungs straining for air.
“Look,” the voice says with a low tenor of malice. “Look at him.”
I glance at my brother’s body on the floor. His blood flow has slowed, the red now staining the grout between the tiles.
“Look at him,” he demands, and the evil vibrates from his tongue all the way to the marrow of my bones.
“I know what I did,” I say, staring at my brother.
“No, you don’t.”
“I do. I killed him.” I try to steady myself, but it’s like I’ve lost control over my body. “He deserved it,” I say boldly, even though every fiber of my being is screaming at me to run away.
The voice tsks, and the sound crawls across my skin like a thousand spiders. “That’s where you’re wrong…birdie.”
Ice slams into my gut, and my soul leaves my body in a rush of fear. “N…no.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“You think you survived me, but your survival only makes me want you so. Much. More.”
The air is instantly weighted, my chest tightening as I try to breathe. My limbs tremble, and my vision tunnels. From the corner of my eye, there’s movement on the ground, and I gasp when I see my brother’s legs start to move.
“No, no, no, no!” I shut my eyes. “This isn’t happening.”
“Open your eyes, Mirabella.”
“No! No, I won’t.” I ball my fists, and I can feel the dried blood that clings to my palms crack.
“Open your eyes.”
“This isn’t real,” I chant. “This isn’t real.”
My entire body is shaking, my legs weak, and shoulders trembling.
“I said open your eyes!” Cold hands grab my arms, pain searing through my flesh, and I open my eyes.
“Hey. You okay?”
I blink, my heart beating impossibly fast, every limb heavy and numb.
“Hummingbird.” Nicoli touches my chin, forcing me to look up at his worried expression. “You okay?”
I let out a breath. “Yeah. Just a bad dream.” I roll onto my back and stare up through the dark, the moonlight shining in and casting stripes of light across the ceiling.
Nicoli is silent for a moment before sliding closer to me, and I turn my head to look at him. His dark hair is wild from sleep, and his eyes shine even in the dim light. He cups my cheek gently, his touch warm against my skin. “I got you, Hummingbird.”
My heart melts like always when he says things like that. But it’s not so much the words he speaks but the way he says it. The way his eyes show the intensity he wishes his words could convey. The way his voice cracks slightly when he calls me Hummingbird.
I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the chill that had settled over me from my nightmare. Nicoli brushes his thumb along my jawline, and I lean into his touch until our lips meet in a slow kiss.
As he pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I say finally.
Nicoli nods and leans back on the bed next to me. We’re quiet for a while before he breaks the silence again. “I will find him, Mira. I swear.”
I slip my hand into his, seeking an anchor in all this uncertainty. “I know.”
“And when I do,” his gaze cuts to mine, “I’ll make sure he begs for death…by your hand.”
A shudder flows through me, the darkness in Nicoli’s promise settling in my chest. It was never something that appealed to me, the thought of ending someone’s life. But with the nightmare I’ve lived and Nicoli by my side, the thought now thrills me to a point where it’s all I think about. My husband’s desire for vengeance and justice mixed with mine are now indistinguishable. The same. Even though I’m the one who got hurt, who got abused and misused, Nicoli is the one living with that guilt. I see it in his eyes every damn time he looks at me.
Guilt for not being there.
Guilt for not saving me in time.
Guilt for not protecting me.
I reach out and place my finger on his chin, his stubble rough beneath my fingertips. “You owe me nothing, Nicoli.”
“I owe you everything.”
“It’s not your fault. Your guilt is unwarranted.”
“Is it?” He wraps his fingers around my wrists, blue eyes penetrating mine. “Should a husband not feel guilt when he could not protect his wife?”
“Nicoli—”
“Should a man not experience rage and regret for not keeping the woman he loves safe and unharmed?”
“It is not your fault,” I say firmly, then slide my leg over and position myself to straddle him, my palms firmly on his chest. “I love you, Nicoli. What happened doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Nothing ever will.” I rock my body on top of his, his cock swelling against my sex. “What he did to me,” I move my hips, sliding my slit along his shaft, “doesn’t affect how I still desire my husband.”
My lips crash against his, our tongues melding as he groans into my mouth. His hands thread around my hips, and the sensation causes a wave of pleasure to ripple through me. “I love you,” I whisper, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling back and trapping him with an intense stare. “No matter what happened or happens in the future. This is still us—you and me. Not even the devil himself can ruin it.”
Nicoli launches upward, grabbing the back of my head and forcing me close so he can capture my mouth, his fiery tongue sweeping to every corner. His fingers fist my hair so tight my scalp starts to burn, but it’s a beautiful type of agony that ignites a desire for him and only him. It’s stronger than any memory. More potent than any pain endured. And for me, that’s enough proof that Nicoli and I can survive hell as long as we have each other.
I lift my hips and reach down, wrapping my fingers around his length and guiding it to my entrance. Nicoli’s lips part against mine, his breath warm and desperate as I inch down, slowly taking him little by little.
“You feel so good,” he whispers, groaning as I take him fully.
I wrap my arms tightly around his neck, his cock impossibly hard and buried to the hilt inside me. The muscles in his shoulders tense when I start to move, and he hisses his pleasure against my cheek. “Work that pussy,” he rasps before tightening his hold on my hair, jerking my head back, causing me to gasp. “Ride my dick like you’ve earned it.” He breathes against the column of my throat so that a shiver of sheer need runs down my spine and pools in the pit of my stomach.
I grind my hips, shifting at an angle to provide the most pleasure. His cock hits the top of my channel, electricity exploding in my core, setting my body alight and almost making me come.
My eyes fall closed, and I rake my fingernails up and down the ridges of his bare back until he growls and grabs my wrists to hold them still. I can feel his body tremble against mine, and his breath comes out in shuddering gasps against my neck as I move up and down on him with increasing intensity.
“Don’t stop,” he growls, and I throw my head back just in time for his mouth to claim the delicate contour of my throat, his velvet tongue lapping against my flesh. His hand is still enclosed around my wrists behind his neck, and I use his strength as leverage to raise myself before letting gravity pull me back down again, harder this time.
“Do that again, and you’ll make me come,” he grunts with warning.
“That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“I want your cum around my dick before I cream your cunt with mine.”
“Oh, God,” I moan, his words washing over me like liquid sex and fiery sparks.
He palms my breast, the fire in my belly turning to an inferno as he rubs my nipple between his deft fingertips. His arm around my waist pulls me closer and harder against him, his hand trapped between our writhing bodies as we continue to move.
A moan leaks from my lips when he takes my nipple in his mouth, sucking hard before letting go, then tracing the tip of his tongue around the hardened pebble. The sensation is indescribable. I can feel it all the way to my clit, throbbing and demanding more while his dick smoothes along my pussy walls.
The heat radiating from our writhing bodies is almost too much, every nerve ending running along my skin, prickling with electricity.
“Fuck me, Mira,” he bites out, letting go of my wrists and grabbing my waist, his fingers biting into my flesh. He’s quivering against me, fighting his urge to move and thrust. He’s keeping still for me, letting me take from him what I need my way. My rhythm. My pleasure.
I rock my hips, my clit finding friction against him, and it makes me push harder against his pelvis, needing more, the desperation for release forcing me to fall back, my hands enclosing around his thighs to steady myself.
“That’s my baby girl,” he hisses, reaching out to cup both my breasts, squeezing them together as I ride him.
Up and down, back and forth, I’m mindless with the need to come, my every move fueled with the ironclad grip of desire. Nothing exists except for this. Us. Our bodies consumed with one another, wrapped in pure ecstasy.
“Touch me,” I beg, needing just a little more to leap over the edge.
“Tell me where to touch you.”
“You know where.”
“I need you to tell me.”
“God, Nicoli,” I moan, out of breath, grab his hand, tearing it from my waist and smacking it down between us, pressing his thumb against my clit. “There.”
He applies the slightest pressure, drawing circles, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through me.
“Yes,” I cry out, throwing my head back, rocking faster, taking him deeper. My entire body tightens around him, and my orgasm ruptures inside my core as Nicoli latches on to one of my nipples, groaning as he sucks. I feel him jerk inside me while I continue to ride him, both of us coming, lost in our pleasure.
I’m trembling, and we’re both shaking as Nicoli winds his arms tightly around me, pulling me close, peppering tender kisses along my collarbone.
I lick my lips, trying to catch my breath when he pulls us down so we collapse on the mattress, my one leg still wrapped around his waist. As the ecstasy fizzles, I’m weak against the truth—and the truth is even though our desire for each other is still strong, something’s changed. He changed. Before Nunzio, our passion was brazen, our desire limitless and untamed. But now it seems…locked and chained.
“You need to stop,” I whisper against his chest.
“Stop what?” His hand glides down my arm.
“Thinking I’ll break.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Yes, you do.” I place my chin on his chest as I look up at him. “That’s why it’s different.”
He cocks a brow. “What’s different?”
“The way you fuck me.”
His blue eyes flash as if my words offended him. “You know that’s not true.”
“That’s why you let me take the lead. Why you insist I tell you what I want while we’re fucking.”
“Stop,” he says before letting go of me and sliding his legs off the bed, placing his elbow on his knee and rubbing his fingers along his forehead.
I sit up, pulling the white silk sheet up to cover myself. “You’re afraid to fuck me the way you want to fuck me, Nicoli. Just admit it.”
“Jesus, Mira.” He shoots up and grabs his sweatpants, pulling them on with frustrated jerks.
I scoot to the edge, not taking my eyes off him. “Honesty. That’s what makes this work. That’s what makes us work. So I need you to be honest with me.”
He pulls a hand through his disheveled hair before his gaze meets mine.
I swallow hard, the words bitter on my tongue even before I speak them. “When was the last time you fucked me without…” I suck in a breath, “without thinking…of him—”
“Jesus Christ.”
“—and what he did to me.”
“Mira, that’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” I narrow my eyes at him, studying him, already seeing the truth in his iced irises. “You used to fuck me like I was your heroin, Nicoli. Like I wasn’t just your wife, but your own personal fuck toy, and I loved that. I loved that you wanted me that way, like your desires started and ended with me.”
“It still does.”
“But now—’ I launch up “—you touch me like I’m glass. You ask me what I need because you feel it gives you permission to pleasure me. And when I say what it is I need, that’s all you deliver.”
He scoffs, turning away from me and pacing the length of our bedroom floor before stopping. “We can talk about this in the morning.”
“No. I want to talk about it now.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“I don’t fucking care, Nicoli. We need to sort this shit out. It’s been two months. Two goddamn months—”
“Mira—”
“No, Nicoli!” I snap. “Just admit it. Just admit that you think if you let yourself go with me the way you used to, you’ll hurt me.”
“Stop.”
“Or maybe it’s because you see his face every time you’re with me, see his hands all over me, his cock inside me.”
“I said stop!” His voice slams against the ceiling, the sharp warning slicing through my lungs and causing me to suck in a breath. “You’re right. Okay? You’re fucking right. I do think of him touching you, hurting you.”
My heart constricts.
“I’m constantly thinking of what he did to you, what he took from you.”
Tears prickle my eyes as he storms toward me, grabbing my shoulders, his eyes wild and intense. “Not a fucking day goes by that I don’t think about him and how I would die if it means giving you the justice you deserve. But when I’m with you…” he continues, his jaw ticking. “When I’m inside you, that’s the only fucking time I don’t think of him, Mira. It’s the only time I’m not consumed with bloodlust and this overwhelming need for vengeance.” He steps closer, causing me to crane my neck as I look into his eyes. “When we’re in that bed, writhing beneath the sheets, all I think about…is you. About what you want, how you’re feeling, and how badly I fucking failed you.”
“You know it’s not your fault.”
“You know why I ask you ‘permission,’ as you put it. It’s because I want to make sure it’s me inside your head, not him. That it’s me you’re seeing and feeling because I swear to God, if it’s his face you’re seeing while you’re with me, I will die a thousand fucking deaths, Mira. I would slit my own goddamn throat if memories of him haunt you while I’m touching you, kissing you, making love to you.”
I’m not sure if it’s tears I see in his eyes or if it’s just my own welling up in mine, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this way. This vulnerable. This…fragile.
He touches my chin with his thumb, lifting my face toward his. “I can’t stomach it, Hummingbird. I can’t handle the thought of you reliving that hell simply because I can’t control myself with you.” He presses his forehead against mine as I breathe in. “I would rather die than have you see him even once while you’re with me.”
I swallow hard and whisper, “Not once have I mistaken your touch for his. There hasn’t been a single moment that my reality with you has been replaced with the past of him.” My voice hitches as I continue, “You make me forget all of it when we’re together, Nicoli. And that’s why I need all of you. I need to know he’s not there when you’re with me. It’s only us…just like it was before.”
“I don’t know if I can,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. “I’ve never been this scared in my entire life, Mirabella. I’m so afraid I’ll hurt you.”
“You won’t.” A tear laps down my cheek. “You will never hurt me, Nicoli.”
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
“The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you. Losing us.”
“You’ll never lose me, Hummingbird.”
“Swear it.”
His lips find mine, his kiss tender and light yet filled with the heaviness of a moment that has us both vulnerable in the same way. “I swear.”
