The sound of a bullet entering a gun’s chamber causes everyone else to freeze in place.
“If you don’t remove your hands from her, I will put a bullet in your fucking head.” Like a sea breeze, crisp and cool, Tristano’s voice glides over me.
The man hesitates.
And that’s all it takes.
The roar of the pistol has me closing my eyes and my ears ringing. A loud buzzing drowns out the distinct popping sounds of weapons being fired. The man’s hand falls away from my face and warm droplets splatter against my forehead and cheeks right before I duck and curl my body inward, making myself as small as possible. Then I cover my ears, and with the last ounce of bravery I possess, I crack one eye open to find Tristano, needing to know he’s alive.
The relief that crashes into me is intense, much more than I thought it’d be. He’s the one who protected me, and still is, so it’s logical I’d rely on him for that reason. Yet, this goes beyond needing him around to ensure my safety.
I wanted him alive for me.
Carlos talks to Octavia, and it takes several seconds for their voices to lose their distorted quality and sharpen into words I can process. I fold my arms, tucking them to my chest, unwilling to move just yet. Just from the way they’re acting I know it’s safe—or relatively anyway—but I can’t force myself to get out of the fetal position.
Tristano doesn’t join the conversation but from the way he tilts his head slightly, I gather he’s listening. Then he holsters his weapons and swings his gaze in my direction.
Right before reaching for me.
He makes a soothing noise as he gently brushes back a lock of hair from my face. “Look at me, Violetta.” When I do he wraps his hand around the side of my neck, his thumb resting just above my rapid pulse. Is he doing that to ensure I don’t get up?
Or is he reassuring himself that I’m alive?
I quickly dismiss the idea. Tristano clearly sees I’m breathing, which makes that thought absolutely ridiculous.
“Are you injured in any way?” he asks. His voice is neutral, yet there’s a urgency in the undertone that catches my attention. When I don’t respond right away Tristano’s lips pull into a frown. But then I mouth the wordnoand his eyes widen, the silver brilliant and shining with relief. “Very good,ribelle.” he murmurs.
The way he says that to me is something more than affirmation. It’s praise. I never expected him to speak to me in such a manner and although it surprises me, my reaction is what truly shocks me.
Because I reveled in what he said.
The pooling of warmth in my belly swirls before slowly traveling in all directions like molten lava spilling over a volcano's crater. It coats me in a layer of awareness that I’ve never felt before, heating me all over. Yes, I’m attracted to Tristano and yes, even more so now that I kissed him. But this sensation has me wanting to do something I never thought would cross my mind.
To eagerly obey someone; a man from the underworld, no less.
Beni approaches the jeep and studies me from the window. “Is she alright?”
Tristano nods and removes a handkerchief from his pocket. His ministrations are light, almost tender, as he runs the linen over my face.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m giving a big thumbs down to Guatemala’s Department of Safety on my customer survey,” Beni says. “Because the people on the welcome committee were fucking assholes.” His eyes don’t quite sparkle with the usual mischief because they’re smoldering with suppressed anger or aggression. Maybe both.
Carlos puts the vehicle into drive after everyone has climbed in. I remain in the same position, refusing to sit up until they’ve had time to remove the bodies from the road and we’re far from here.
Or at least, that’s my plan anyway.
Tristano ruins it by taking hold of my upper arms and sliding me across his thighs to settle me sideways on his lap. He curves an arm around my lower back, securing his fingers on my waist. With his free hand, he presses his thumb just under my jaw and splays his fingertips on the side of my face, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“You will stop being scared. Do you understand me?”
I stare up at him in a daze. The possessive way he’s holding me makes my mind fuzzy and rational thought leaves me like petals fall from a flower; easily and quickly, with little resistance. My skin heats up, not only from his body heat that suffuses every point of contact between us, but due to his touch.
Tristano is the only man to ever put his hands on me in such a way.
He trails his thumb down the column of my throat and stops directly over my vocal cords. Immediately, my instinct is to swallow, the motion occurring just under his thumb, moving it slightly. In response, he lightly rubs the area.
“Answer me.”
I start to nod, but he tightens his hold, preventing me from doing so.
