“I don’t hate you for it,” I said.
His eyes searched mine, then he pulled me closer and pressed his lips against my forehead. I sank into his embrace, uncertain of what the future held, but unwilling to let him go just yet.
38
VIVIAN
The scar running across my torso was the only physical reminder left of what Lord Thorne had done to me. I traced it absently through the soft fabric of another one of Raffaele’s sweatshirts, my thoughts spiraling in and out of the memories I was trying so hard to suppress. It had been three days since we arrived at the cabin. Three days of quiet meals, and Raffaele’s unabashed care.
Physically, I was almost whole again. The magical salve he applied every night before bed worked wonders, reducing the once-raw X across my torso to a faint line that he assured me would fade over time. But my mind… Well, that was another story.
Raffaele had been relentless in his care. He cooked every meal, ensured I rested, and rarely left my side. His constant attention was overwhelming in the best way, leaving me feeling both cared for and unsteady. I wasn’t used to this—any of this.
We sat at the kitchen island, the remains of roasted vegetables and a perfectly cooked chicken spread between us. I set my fork down and looked at him, watching as he wiped his hands with a cloth napkin.
“Where is all this food coming from?” I asked.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Magic.”
I rolled my eyes. “Obviously. But how? You’ve been cooking non-stop, and you haven’t left the cabin once. Are you summoning food out of thin air?”
He chuckled, the warm sound sending tingles through me. “Not quite. The cabin’s magic is tied to me. It responds to my presence and pulls resources from my territory—markets, stores, wherever it’s needed.”
“Wait, so you’re telling me there’s some poor bastard staring at his food cart right now, wondering why his produce keeps disappearing?”
That earned me a full laugh, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and softened his sharp features. “It’s possible. I like to think the cabin has better taste than to take from someone who needs it.”
I laughed, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. It felt foreign, but good, like I’d found a part of myself I was sure I’d lost.
Raffaele smiled as he watched me. He stood and carried our plates to the kitchen before heading to the living room.
“Come on,” he called over his shoulder.
I followed him, drawn by the unusual ease in his demeanor. He settled on the rug in front of the fire and patted the spot beside him. “Sit with me.”
I lowered myself onto the plush rug, the warmth of the fire soothing against the chill in the air. Raffaele leaned forward, opening a cabinet built into the side of the fireplace, and pulled out a wooden box.
I raised an eyebrow. “A board game? I didn’t think magical beings in The Below even knew what those were.”
He smirked, setting the box down and flipping it open. Inside was a board painted with intricate designs and small woodenpeg people in different colors. “When you’ve been alive as long as I have, you find ways to kill time. I scoured The Below and even sent my men into the human world to find things like this. If I ever had to use the safehouse, I knew I might be here a while.”
I couldn’t help but smile as he set up the game. His hands, capable of wielding shadows with lethal precision, now moved delicately as he arranged the tiny pieces on the board.
As he was placing the last peg, his eyes lit up. “Oh, I almost forgot…”
He stood and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two glasses of white wine. He handed me one, the soft smile on his lips making my heart somersault.
“Thought it might make the game more interesting,” he said casually, sitting back down and raising his glass.
I took the glass, staring at him over the rim as I took a sip. The crisp, cold wine was perfect, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the man sitting across from me. This was Raffaele Gallanti, the Shadow, one of the most feared beings in The Below—and he was sitting on a rug in front of a fire, sharing wine and a board game with me.
Something had shifted between us. I couldn’t pinpoint when or how, but I felt it in the way he looked at me, in every caring gesture.
I wasn’t used to this. I wasn’t used to anyone caring for me like this. But as I sat there, sipping wine and watching him explain the rules of the game with an almost boyish enthusiasm, I had a startling realization.
I could get used to this.
I wanted to.
