- LUCIANO -
That was the most fucked up dream I have ever had. It felt so real.
Even though it was difficult to see anything, the air felt damp and heavy, which made it obvious we were underground. There were candles around that did nothing to help actually see anything.. except for Rory in the center of the room with a knife.
My heart jumped into my throat when I saw the candlelight glint off of the blade in her hands. Because, like I said, sothing told this was real. And it never occurred to that Rory would consider hurting herself. All the security and protection in the world does nothing if she is actually the one who is the threat.
All I wanted was to get to her, but I couldn’t move from where I was. There wasn’t anything visibly holding back, but it was like I was frozen. It had to have been the won in the room. They were witches or sorceresses, and I thought maybe Rory was so kind of sacrifice until I saw those long black slimy creatures co out of her.
Now, I have witnessed so terrible things in my life. My stomach is about as strong as they co, but watching those things co out of her... that was not anything close to what I expected to see when Rory sliced into her skin. And to think all of those were inside of her? It was horrifying, and for so reason it made furious.
I wanted to kill those sick parasites before they could get a chance to return and infect her again. But apparently that’s what all those other won were there for. Instead, I ran to Rory’s side. The invisible force holding back finally let up, and I got to her just as she was about to collapse.
When I woke up in the plane and realized it had all been a dream, it was such a huge relief. I couldn’t get to Rory fast enough to make sure she was truly okay.
She is obviously shaken—she seed to be holding her breath until I shook her awake—but there is no cut on her forehead. And she’s letting hold her. She’s letting touch her. God, I never want to let her go. I never want her to have another dream like that again. But how the hell did we have the sa one?
"Have you ever had a dream like that before?"
Her head is tucked under my chin, and I want her to stay there. If she’s right here, nothing can hurt her—not even herself. I won’t allow it.
"Not like that."
"But you have nightmares."
"Yes."
Dex told as much. She used to wake up screaming. I wonder if she still does.
"What are your nightmares about?"
When Rory doesn’t answer, a part of knows. She probably has nightmares about that fucker Lawson, but there’s more. There’s more that’s happened to her, and I would give everything to go back and make it fucking right, but I can’t.
"I want to help you," I confess on a sigh, and it’s in a breathy voice I barely even recognize as my own. It lacks all the layers of bullshit. It’s stripped down to its most basic chords.
I feel her swallow and her fingers tighten into the fabric of my shirt. There’s an indecent thought that inserts itself of Rory pulling my shirt off and using all of that pent up rage and hurt and trauma against . I want her to. I can take it.
That’s one thing I can definitely do—withstand whatever hurt she needs to release. If she needs soone else to feel that pain in her stead, I’m the guy. I may as well have been made for it. She can give it all to .
"Why?" She asks.
Another why question. Sohow it feels like that’s just it: that’s the question underneath it all. That’s the question she’s been asking herself for a very long ti.
"Sotis there’s no satisfying answer to that question," I tell her. "We don’t know why. But I’m here, Rory. And I’m not going anywhere. I know that much."
"Until you fuck , right?"
That question is like a punch in the gut I wasn’t expecting, and it hurts like one. But I make myself chuckle just like I would if she had hit . My hands stop caressing her, though.
Maybe I deserve that assumption. No, I know I do. I acted like all I wanted was to sleep with her before with the way I was flirting with her. And if she were anyone else, she would be right. I would only be interested long enough to get what I want. But she’s not anyone else.
The forced laughter dies on my lips, and I gently pull away from her. She squints against the light coming in from the stupid skylight.
"No, that’s not right."
Rory scoffs. Another punch in the gut.
Shit. How can I convince her I’m sticking around? What she’s assuming is exactly who I’ve been my whole life since puberty. Until now. Even I don’t understand it.
"I’m serious. I would never claim sothing that wasn’t true. Yes, I’ve fucked around with a lot of won. I have never denied who I am, and I’m not about to do it now. But this is different."
If she only knew how different it was... I told my mother about her. My mother! But I don’t think Rory is ready to know just how serious I am. It might actually scare her instead of making her trust .
Rory just stares at , fidgeting with her hands now that they aren’t curled into my shirt. I can tell she feels insecure, and that’s so unlike her. I hate it. I hate that she can’t just be the badass bitch I know she is.
"Tell to fuck off then," I say, shrugging.
Her eyes narrow, and I can sense the fire returning. Rory’s eyes might be ice blue, but they’re the icy blue of flas—the hottest part of any fire. I’m not fooled by their color at all.
"Fuck off, Luciano," she growls, and the wall around her goes right back up like we didn’t just share sothing as intimate as a dream together.
Sharing dreams shouldn’t even be possible. Can’t she see? That alone ans sothing.
I lean close, looking down at her lips as I do. I can’t help it. I ant what I said—I’m not leaving. That doesn’t an I don’t want to do... everything there is to do with her while I stay. But I will live a celibate life if I have to just to prove to her that this is it for . I’m not interested in anyone else.
"No," I whisper a breath away from those luscious pink lips—so tempted to bite them. "You’re stuck with , dolcezza. I suggest you get used to it."
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