“I wish I had met her before they tore her apart.” Luca places a chaste kiss on my sister’s cheek. Astrid leans into him, hiding a smile.
“Understood, Luca. I apologize, sweet sister, that you had to endure such pain. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone,” I say, reaching out to the tiny, sharp-edged woman.
She looks at my hand and then at Luca, who nods and smiles.
Her fingers slip into mine. Our shadows react instantly, tangling and twisting, as if answering some old call.
One of mine flares, a sharp, startled curl up my arm, before it settles.
Tiny points of inky blackness blink around our joined hands, a quiet constellation forming before it fades.
Astrid gasps. I wince then—fuck me—I almost smile.
This must be Luca’s effect on her shadows.
Fantastic. She gets delicate astral poetry, and I get the void-born drama club.
She smiles brightly at me, and I wonder if I could form some sort of relationship with this sibling. With Luca as her mate, she might consider it.
I’ve never given a damn about relationships, especially with my asshole siblings.
But Aurora changed everything.
“Well, I don’t see the need to impose any longer. I will report to Renato that I couldn’t secure Luca. Or should I tell him you’re dead?” I ask, struggling to stand.
Luca’s smirk is slow and sharp, full of quiet certainty.
“Tell Ren I’m alive. And that I’m never coming back.” His fingers tighten around Astrid’s waist. “I have something much better.”
His voice softens, stripped of everything but awe. “I have her.”
“Right. Now I see what Louie suffers through. I’d rather have Astrid kick my ass again,” I say to myself as the vampire and my sister keep gazing at each other.
Even a week ago, I would have called Luca pathetic.
But now, I see him.
He isn’t weak. He’s lethal.
Love hasn’t softened Luca. It’s turned him into something else, something with sharp teeth and unwavering devotion. Something willing to summon the dark energy of the universe, kicking off The Big Rip, if it meant Astrid was safe and by his side.
I get it. The pull. The madness. The need to protect something you’d kill to deserve.
I have it myself. That kind of devotion doesn’t make you gentle. It makes you fucking dangerous.
As if to prove the point, he tosses the red folder onto the table.
“Your notes. We read them.” No apology. No hesitation. Not a goddamn ounce of shame.
Just fact.
He exhales, rolling his shoulders, already done with this conversation.
“La Fauce Vermiglia? It’s real. But it needs something that doesn’t exist to activate it, so I’d say we’re safe. For now.” His head tilts. “Why do you care, Ezra?”
Shit.
I fall back into my seat, heavier than before.
