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I wondered if Anteros would understand. Back when I was in the penthouse, he seemed concerned, but I had to wonder if that was because he didn’t want damaged goods or because he wanted to take care of me.
The roar in my ears settled, replaced by the low hum ever present in the city—music, honking, the occasional glimpse of a conversation. I brought my pajamaed knees up, hugging them. My ass was numb and I was certain the smell of piss was coming from somewhere close to me, but I was still too tired to stand. Tears pricked my lids, falling without my consent. I hated that I was crying in public; it didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night, there was still a ton of people out.
Occasionally someone glanced at me, but they didn’t give me a second look. To them, I was crazy, not in need of help.
I was ready to give up when the phone vibrated. It was just one word, but the word was enough to get me running again.
Now.
&n
bsp; The double wooden doors creaked as I opened them. It was so dark inside that the night outside lit the church. It was quiet; Anteros hadn’t arrived yet. The silence was weighted and warm, not like Lucia’s where quiet was cloying and cutting.
I realized then that the church was a comfort to me, with its dilapidated wood and a roof you could see the minimal stars through. If you tilted your head, you could see New York City skyscrapers jutting to the sky, reaching for God.
I slowly walked up the pews until I reached the front and sat down, pulling the letter out of my waistband. Disappointment racked through me. It was in fucking Italian.
My eyebrows drew in, staring at the paper as if I could make sense of it. I recognized the names Lucia and Lucio—maybe a letter between her and her brother? I also knew the name Pavoni as well, but that was about it. I recognized mio cuore at the end, like what Anteros called me, but that couldn’t be right. Why would a brother say that to his sister? Either way, Lucia had gone to great lengths to hide the letter, so it was clearly important.
I was still trying to glean what little I could from the letter when I heard the doors open behind me. Standing up, I turned to see Anteros. He held the doors open with both arms, blue-black sky his backlight. He was huge in the doorway, monstrous—but he was smiling at me.
I think I actually melted, so rare was that smile. I was granted half-smiles and occasionally ones he tried to hide, but this was an actual grin. It lit up his entire face. It was like I was staring at the sun, but it was so beautiful and bright I didn’t want to look away. I imagined this was why people went blind.
With big, powerful steps, Anteros closed the distance. He wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me to him.
“You beat me,” he said, and then kissed me.
Nine
Anteros broke the kiss to rake his gaze over Frankie. She was fuzzy and gray in the dim light, but still so stunning. Cheekbones high, lips full, she was like a creature from a fairytale. A month without her had made him too aware of how lucky he was, and how easily that luck could vanish.
“What’s this?” he asked, eyes landing on a letter in her hand.
“I stole it from Lucia.” She handed it to him without hesitation. It was old, the paper thin, crispy, and buckling. Anteros turned his attention back to Frankie, ready to ask her more about it and the circumstances that lead to her stealing it, when he saw her.
Really saw her.
Tears streaked her cheeks, abject heaviness weighing down her shoulders. She was sad; something or someone—the thought incensed him—had made her upset. He’d been distracted and caught up in the fever of first seeing her, but up close it was obvious. She was defeated.
“You’ve been crying.” Stuffing the letter into his pocket, he brushed a thumb beneath her lid, swollen and red even in the gray night. His hand moved slowly from her cheek down to her neck, and she swayed into his caress.
“Tell me what happened.” At his demand, she pushed off him and spun to the front of the church, gripping the banister. The moon was full above them, shining rays of liquid silver through the slats. Her skin was bathed in it, hair silky and bright in the night. Bits of dust floated in the night like stardust, ethereal in the moon’s glow. The image stunned him, until he heard her sad hiccup.
“Frankie.” Anteros went and grabbed her, turning her so she faced him. She was hot against the cold night, squirming to get away. Her thighs rubbed against him and he pressed a leg between them, pushing her against the bannister.
“Stop squirming,” he said, voice gruff with restraint. Frankie didn’t listen and the harder she squirmed, the faster her shirt rose and caused his to rise as well, until their skin was touching. The simple contact was enough to have his dick slamming against his jeans. Anteros breathed evenly, battling the need to fuck her. “Unless you want me to take you right here and now”—he rubbed his nose from her ear to her collarbone, inhaling her—“Stop. Moving.” She stilled, and he took her face between his palms. “Tell me what happened.”
“I want to be with you,” she said in response. “I don’t want to go back to Lucia, I want to be with you.” He held her face, thinking of the problem he’d been trying to work out since the moment he’d realized he loved her. He wanted Frankie at his side. Fuck. He wanted that more than anything, but if he was going to take down the Pavonis and build a new empire, he needed the Wolves. It had always been the Beast and the Wolves.
Gripping her face harder, thumbs digging into her cheeks, Anteros imagined what it would be like if they ruled the underworld together. The vision taunted him, an apple in the garden, so sweet yet filled with ruination. Her blue eyes grew wide as she waited for his response, cogs worked, and he tried to figure out a way for them to be together for the one thousandth time.
All of them ended with her dead.
He let her go, abruptly walking to the other side of the church.
“It’s not safe for you,” he said, voice hoarse. A moment passed before she spoke.
“All right.” All earlier emotion and yearning in her voice died, a spring flower bloomed too early and killed by late winter snow. He turned around to see she’d started walking down the aisle, heading to the door. Anteros quickly cut her off, gripping her upper arm. She struggled again but he pushed her against a wall.
