Stephen from London was still gurgling as he took his last breaths. I could see the blood bubbling from his mouth, dripping down the side of his face, and his hands were still trying to clasp the wound in his stomach. He was failing.
Stephen was dying, and Lucian didn’t show even a flutter of regret. There was nothing in him, nothing but hate.
I pressed tighter against the wall as he gestured the knife at me, and that’s when I realized just how badly I was shaking.
“Did he fuck you?”
“What?” I asked, in barely more than a breath.
“I said, did he fuck you?”
I shook my head. “No. He . . . he couldn’t . . . I didn’t let him . . .”
He didn’t reply to that, just stepped closer to the man on the floor and kicked aside his hands from his wound.
“What the fuck were you doing here with this sonofabitch?” the Morelli monster snapped at me, and I tried to answer that, but my voice was still stunted.
“I . . . I . . .”
The monster was on me in a flash, pressing me tight to the wall, his breaths fierce. This time his voice was a snarl.
“I said, what the fuck were you doing here with that sonofabitch, Elaine?”
“I don’t know!” I blurted, and the sobs were so hard they were hurting. “I don’t know . . . I just wanted . . . I just wanted . . .”
“WHAT?” he barked, right in my face. “WHAT DID YOU WANT?”
He pointed to Stephen as he gulped his final breath, and I looked over. I looked over at the body, and I couldn’t find any words.
“You wanted that, did you?” he hissed. “You wanted that worthless piece of shit?”
He took hold of my neck and shoved me towards the body. I was whimpering, trembling, scared, and I couldn’t speak.
“I’m asking you again,” he said, and his voice was an evil rasp. Evil and . . .
Hurt.
Lucian Morelli was hurt. By me. He was hurt by me. He was hurt by me being here with that man on the floor.
And I shouldn’t understand it. I shouldn’t want to understand it. But I did.
I did understand it.
I was feeling it too. That connection. That crazy connection between us. A forbidden want that made no sense, that had no place in this world.
He turned me to face him, and he dropped the knife on the floor, onto the blood-soaked carpet as he took my arms and shook me. He shook me so hard my legs were nothing but jello.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU WANT?” he demanded, and he was scary. His voice was scary, and harsh, and angry, and beautiful. Lucian’s voice was beautiful. So beautiful he set my heart on fire.
My eyes were on his. Crying. Crying so hard I could barely see.
“YOU!” I yelled. “I WANTED YOU!”
He stopped at that. He stopped shaking me and stared, and those dark eyes of his flashed with something raw.
It took a few long moments before he spoke again.
“How the fuck would that sonofabitch ever be a substitute for me? He’s NOTHING compared to me.”
I didn’t have an answer for that because there wasn’t one. Stephen from London could never have been a substitute for the monster in front of me. Lucian Morelli was the leader of my heaven and my hell both at once. His touch was gold and sin, both at once. He was my love and hate, both at once.
He let go of me, and I sank to my knees with another round of tears.
I tried to catch my breath, watching Lucian pace up and down alongside the body without even casting it a glance. He didn’t give a fuck about it. Didn’t give a shit about committing murder.
Of course he didn’t give a shit about committing murder . . . no doubt he’d done it plenty of times before.
But why here? Why now? How did he even know where I was?
I closed my eyes and forced myself into some kind of rational thought, just to speak out loud.
“What the fuck did you want?” I asked him. “What the fuck did you want here?”
The hate in his stare was still there when it met with mine, and he didn’t answer, just kept on pacing.
“Tell me,” I said. “What the fuck did you want, Lucian? Why the hell are you here, saving me?”
“I wasn’t here to save you,” he told me. “I was here to save your pussy.”
“That’s why you’re here, is it?” I pushed. “For my pussy?”
I heard his sigh, patronizing me as though I was a stupid little girl.
“Be quiet now, Elaine. Shut the fuck up.”
I didn’t move. Even if I’d wanted to, I didn’t have the strength.
I was quiet when he spoke again.
“I can’t believe you thought he’d be anything like me,” he snapped. “I can’t believe you’d be a dirty little slut with that fucking loser.”
But I wasn’t a slut. I was still a virgin. Still a tiny blonde virgin staring up at the darkest Morelli in the world.
“You just killed a guy from London,” I said, like I wasn’t stating the obvious. “A singer from London. They’ll know you killed him. They would have seen you . . . at the party . . .”
“I bet they gave you awards for your intellect at school, didn’t they?” His sarcasm left me cold.
My gaze was pulled to the body so close to me. I’d never seen a dead body before, let alone seen someone stabbed and taking their last breaths. I let out another sob and put my hands to my face, and that’s when I heard Lucian sighing again.
“Don’t play the fucking innocent, Little Miss Constantine,” he sneered. “Your family has as much blood on its hands as mine does. Don’t pretend you’ve never seen it.”
But I hadn’t. I hadn’t seen it. My family kept it hush hush and always
