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“No,” he growled. “Open this fucking door before I break it down.”
I put my face in my hands and sobbed. “Just leave me alone!”
“What are you doing in there, baby?” Luca threw his weight into the door like he was trying to break it down. “You better not be hurting yourself.”
“Luca, I’m not suicidal. Please, give me some space.”
“Mi dispiace bellissima,” he said in Italian before muttering several curses. He punched the door and grunted, “Fine. Have it your way. But I’m not giving up on you.”
That night I dreamed of The Devil’s Knights. We were in their temple hidden in the catacombs beneath Devil’s Creek. An eery silence fell over the room, which was lit by dozens of candles. It was intimate, romantic, but what we were about to do together was far from romance.
Luca stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders. He pressed his lips to my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine. “The queen must accept her Knights.”
The Knights circled me, dropped to the ground on their knees with the hoods of their cloaks covering their lowered heads.
I stood in front of the Knights. With my naked body on display, I moved toward the man in front of me. Even with his head down, I knew it was Marcello. I could sense him anywhere. Like Luca, he was a part of me.
I shoved the hood off Marcello’s head, and his eyes met mine. He looked so damn sexy I licked my lips, and he returned the gesture as he studied my body with care.
“I choose you, Marcello Salvatore.” I moved my hand to his cheek and smiled.
I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming his name. Shooting out of bed like it was on fire, fear slithered down my trembling body and stirred in my belly.
Marcello.
I needed to see him, so I headed toward the door. Roman hadn’t survived the attack. His replacement was a twenty-something guy named Benji. He stood outside of my bedroom with his back to the wall.
Benji stared at me, arms crossed over his chest. Dressed in a black suit, he had dark hair, olive skin, and a scar that ran down his neck. He looked dangerous and kind of scared me. But he was here for my protection. Supposedly, he was one of Marcello’s best men.
He pushed himself off the wall and slowly approached me. “Everything okay, Miss Wellington?”
“Yes.” I stepped into the hallway, closing the distance. “I need to see Marcello.”
He pointed at the door across from mine. “Mr. Salvatore moved him closer to you.”
I thanked him, then headed toward Marcello’s temporary bedroom. It was dark inside, the only light coming from the moonlight filtering through the curtains. The room mirrored mine and had a balcony that overlooked the bay and an ensuite bathroom.
Leaving the door open a crack, I used the light from the hallway sconces to lead the way. Marcello slept in a four-poster bed under a mound of blankets. There was a hospital bed beside it. I assumed the medical staff left it there in case shit went south, and they needed to move him.
The monitor beside his bed beeped in a steady rhythm. He had IVs and a bunch of shit attached to his body. I hopped onto the mattress and rested my head on the pillow beside his head. Just being next to him made me feel safe. Like I could finally breathe.
I slipped my fingers between his and watched him sleep, staring at his chest rising and falling beneath the covers. So fucking thankful he survived the attack. He breathed softly and moved a little when I stroked his skin with my fingers.
After a while, I stopped fighting sleep. My eyelids grew heavy, and I closed my eyes, consumed by the sound of Marcello’s breathing.
He was alive.
* * *
Ahand slipped beneath my shirt, fingers traveled up my stomach, inching toward my breasts. Eyes closed, I laid my head on the pillow and let him touch me. Let him roll his thumb over my painfully sore nipple. This was a nice dream, the perfect escape from reality. He felt so good, his hands warm and rough as he claimed me.
I opened my eyes. Marcello was asleep beside me, touching me without even knowing it. At least I thought he was sleeping. I still craved him, but I didn’t want him like this. Not when he was unconscious.
I grabbed his hand and moved it to the mattress. Heart pounding in my chest, I laid on my side and watched him. I sighed in relief. When he was on the operating table, I had never been so scared.
“Morning, princess,” Marcello said, his voice hoarse.
“Morning.” I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt. “How are you feeling?”
