“Can I at least say goodbye to Chiara?”I ask.“And my family?”
He turns to me, something that looks like compassion in his eyes.But it’s immediately swallowed by the darkness that is the true material he’s made of.
“If you don’t make a scene and come quietly, we can call Chiara from the airport,” he says.“As for the rest of your family, you’ll have to wait a little longer.But your dad’s coming with us.”
“To die in your war,” I mutter.
“Everyone dies eventually,” he says.
“I wish you would, so I’d be free.”
The flash of light that shoots from his eyes hits me like lightning.And in the next moment he brings the thunder too, crossing the distance between us in a split second, grabbing the back of my head with one hand while pulling me close with the other.
“You might get your wish soon enough,” he says menacingly.“So we should make the most of the time we still have together.”
Then he kisses me, feeds me that light and sunshine, and no darkness can survive that magic.I forget to hate him.I forget all he’s done to me and only remember the good when he kisses me like this.
And before I know it, the sheets, still warm from his body, are against my naked back and his weight is pressing me into the mattress, his kisses fierce as though he’s making good on his promise to make the most of our time together.
The thought of him dying pierces my heart like the knife I thought about plunging into his.
But even that pain is erased as his kisses intensify still more.
I moan loudly as he enters me, my hips rising to meet him, instead of fighting him off.Instead of rejecting him and all he stands for.Because there’s magic only the two of us can create, and it’s stronger than anything that can and will or has happened in the real world.
A part of my mind knows this as the only truth.The part that always craves his touch, his kisses, his looks full of sunshine.The part that still loves him.Loves him more than I ever did.
The part the hates him is always silent when he makes love to me.
His thrusts are deep, each bringing a stab of pleasure that is at once unbearable and the only thing I’ve ever needed.
I’m moaning and kissing him back, meeting each of his thrusts with my hips, opening for him, pulling him deeper still.My body is showing him how much I need him, how much I want him, showing him all the things I will never speak to him.Ever.
His thrusts get wilder, fiercer, more urgent, bringing me to the brink of an all-consuming orgasm—a scorching light that will take the rest of my reason and make us one.I fight it.But there’s no fighting it.
One more thrust and I’m done, unravelling for him, the pleasure all there is, the magic we’ve created all I need.No hate.No regret.No death.
Only love and light and the kind of bliss I couldn’t ever imagine.The kind of magic that has to be felt to be believed.
Too bad it will fade like it always does, and I will hate him again.Hate him more than before, because he made me love him for those few brief moments.
Chapter50
MATTEO
I arrivedin New York a beggar less than a month ago.With nothing to my name and only the clothes on my back.I switched three cargo planes to get here, which took me just under twenty-four hours and I felt like a dirty little nobody the whole way.
Now I’m leaving for LA on a sleek black private jet with cream-colored leather seats.I’m going to reclaim my birthright with an army at my back and powerful friends back in New York.
If someone told me I’d be achieving all that two months ago, I’d call them a fool.And if someone told me I’d be leaving LA with the woman I plan to spend the rest of my life with, even if it kills me, I’d call them a delusional liar.
But it’s a check to all that.
I’m well aware that my ruin is probably lurking just around the corner, perhaps less than a hundred breaths away.But I won’t think about it, I won’t worry.I’ll just let it surprise me.
On the plane with Goldie and me are Nico and Caputo, both sitting in the back of the plane.Caputo is leaning back in his seat, eyes closed, and Nico is chatting to the pretty raven-haired stewardess.
Gianna is like a mound of black with a golden top beside me, staring resolutely out the window, her lips so pursed they’re invisible.
