The memory of her blood on my tongue, the sweetest sin a man like me could savor, invited me to take more, to fuck her in every way possible. Ruin her body, her mind, her fucking soul.
I licked my lips, searching for her taste and caught myself with a silent scoff.
I wasn’t a man easily swayed by pussy, but my darkness craved light, a purity I loved to wreck, and her snarky innocence practically glowed its welcome. Only, it was just something I desired, not what I needed. In my world, if it wasn’t needed, it wasn’t important.
So why the fuck was I this distracted.
Anger served my purpose well, the only emotion I felt toward anyone who wasn’t my brother, Rayden or Dario. Even Gian saw the brunt of my annoyance regularly. Over time I learned that acting the proverbial loose cannon gave me an edge, catching those that underestimated me off guard and I preferred that advantage. Then there was my handsome face, as Uncle Frank often pointed out, it masked my psychotic tendency with ease.
Regardless, I was never sidetracked until now. Until her.
And I didn’t fucking like it.
Instinct warned me this woman was dangerous to my control but reporting me to the cops, now that made the temptation irresistible. I’d never be the devil masquerading as an angel or a wolf cloaked in lamb’s wool, I believed in a ‘what you see is what you get’ authenticity. Thanks to my mother, my personality existed on three shades of dark.
Black. Fucked Up. Unhinged.
Each situation demanded a certain hue, yet I never knew beforehand what it would be. What I did know for certain though, was rebellion or not, this woman had earned herself the perfect punishment.
And fuck if I wouldn’t enjoy that.
The knife wounds I’d left on her today, would heal and eventually fade, what I had planned for her though, would brand her mine.
Tomorrow, my mark would remain incognito, infallible, indestructible. Most importantly.
Indelible.
twenty-nine
. . .
Ishika– 31 years old
After my outburst at the police station yesterday and in full view of Remo, I’d walked on tenterhooks, expecting him to come after me. All that fierce bravado I’d displayed there, left me the second I walked out the hospital last night and spotted a sleek black sports car parked across the bus station. Even though the blacked-out windows were too dark to make out the occupants, I knew it was him. Unnerved, I forced myself to stay calm when all I wanted to do was turn tail and run back to the hospital.
Thankfully, the bus arrived on time and surprisingly, the car didn’t follow. The moment I pushed through the villa door though, I made a beeline for the bathroom.
No amount of scrubbing could rid me of Remo’s touch. He might’ve used just my mouth, but I felt him everywhere, even in places I didn’t want to. When I finally stepped out of the bath an hour later, dried my body and hair, I wiped the steamed mirrors, my gaze latching onto the two cuts at the side of my neck.
Without meaning too, I’d rubbed them raw along with the rest of my body and they bled again. After I dressed the wounds, two glasses of wine saw me to bed. However, the second I shutmy lids, visions of radiant blue-grey eyes, a silky-smooth chuckle some women might consider sexy and a distinguished smirk I’d never witnessed on another man, toyed with my need to sleep. Annoyed, I sat up most of the night, admonishing myself for dreaming about a monster disguised as a man.
Although I had the evening shift, I still couldn’t sleep in that morning. Not even the long run I took until my calves screamed their distress, helped settle my mind. I just couldn’t shake that hold Remo had over me every moment I closed my eyes.
By the time I arrived at the hospital that afternoon, I couldn’t stop yawning and had to down several cups of coffee to keep me on my toes. Throughout the day, sleep burned my eyes, threatening to collapse my knees if I didn’t rest.
Now, I glanced at my watch, moaning. “This is going to be a long night?” Only three hours had passed since my shift began.
“Why do you look like death chewed you up and spat you out from distaste?” Brandi rounded the reception desk, taking the file I’d signed off. Stasia and Trixie had the morning shift while she worked the afternoon.
I wrinkled my nose at her. “Because I feel like it.”
“Fifth floor is empty.” She winked. “I’ll cover for you.”
“You’re the best.” I blew her a kiss.
The hospital had undergone recent renovations to the fifth and sixth floors, scheduled to open in a month. Some of the board members decided that pandering to the whims of rich Italians, would give the hospital an edge. Hence the lavish refurbishments that catered for the elite and why a few of us snuck in there to take a breather. Our rules were simple, oneperson at a time, not more than two hours relaxation and make sure someone covered for you.
I was half down the first-floor corridor when my trainers came to a squeaky halt, courtesy of the man exiting he elevator. Straightaway, his eyes locked on mine, nipping my instinct to hide, in the bud. Gone was the playful arrogance I encountered at the station replaced now by piercing coldness. His steps a distinct prowl, he stalked toward me, every movement controlled, precise, a lethal promise.
