Page 25

"You know," Rhadamanthys mused, "the old country has a saying: 'L'amore fa fare pazzie.' Love makes one do crazy things." He paused, eyes going sharp. "They also understood that crazy men who break sacred oaths rarely live to regret it. Blood in, blood out, as they say."

"This wasn't a valid contract. Prometheus set me up."

"Ah, yes. Prometheus and his elaborate games." Something darker flickered across Rhadamanthys' features. "That one still believes he owns you, does he not? Like a boy who refuses to share his favorite toy."

Luka didn't answer.

"The reach of Prometheus extends far indeed," Rhadamanthys said, finishing his cone. "But even he must answer to justice. Eventually." He stood, adjusting his hat. "Do try not to die before such justice arrives, si? It would be such a terrible waste of potential entertainment. "

He looked at me one more time. "You will take good care of him, dottore? Men like our Luka... they shatter so beautifully once they learn what it means to love."

With that, he tipped his hat and sauntered away, spurs singing a metallic melody with each step. But just before he disappeared into the crowd, he glanced back and gave me the slightest wink.

The café seemed to exhale collectively once he was gone.

Luka's hand still gripped my thigh, fingers digging into the muscle. When I placed my hand over his, he startled, as if only now realizing he was touching me.

"We should go," he said, voice tight. "Now."

We made our way back to our quarters in tense silence.

Luka moved differently now. He was hypervigilant, constantly scanning our surroundings.

Once inside, he locked the door and performed a security check that seemed automatic.

Only after confirming we were alone did some of the tension leave his shoulders.

"What was that about?" I asked, watching him pace the living area like a caged predator. "Is he going to help us or not?"

"He's waiting to see how things play out." Luka ran a hand through his hair. "Judges don't take sides unless they have to. They enforce the rules, but they love watching the game."

"So we're what? Entertainment?"

"For now." He stopped pacing, turning to face me fully. "Did you notice how he looked at you?"

I swallowed, heat creeping up my neck at the memory. "It was hard to miss."

"He was doing it to provoke me." Luka moved closer, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. "And it worked."

My heart rate kicked up a notch. "Luka... "

"I didn't like it," he said, voice dropping lower. "The way he looked at you. Like you were something he could just take."

"I'm not something anyone can just take," I replied, standing my ground as he approached.

"No," he agreed, stopping inches from me. "You're not."

Something had shifted between us. The controlled, careful distance we'd maintained during his recovery evaporated, leaving raw electricity in its place. His eyes dropped to my lips, lingering there. "You're attracted to danger. To violence. To people who could hurt you."

"Yes." The admission felt like jumping off a cliff. "It's something I've been in therapy for. A pattern I've been trying to break."

His laugh was soft, almost bitter. "Then you're doing a piss-poor job of it, doc. You don't get much more dangerous than me."

"I know. But you're different."

He moved closer still, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Because I saved you instead of killing you? That doesn't make me good, Vincent. It just makes me a traitor."

"Because you had a choice," I said. "And you chose not to be what they made you."

His expression flickered, something vulnerable breaking through before he masked it again. "You have too much faith in me."

"Maybe." I reached up, hesitating just a moment before placing my palm against his chest. "Or maybe I see something in you that you can't see in yourself yet."

He looked down at my hand, then back to my eyes. The air grew heavy. My entire body thrummed with awareness. Of his proximity, the scent of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm, the vivid blue of his eyes.

Then slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, he leaned in .

I held my breath as he paused, our lips a whisper apart. His eyes searched mine, seeking permission. I gave the barest nod, unable to form words with him so close.

The first brush of his lips against mine was devastatingly gentle, almost hesitant, nothing like the confident predator I'd come to know.

This was Luka stripped of pretense, vulnerable and uncertain.

The careful pressure, the subtle trembling of his mouth against mine…

This wasn't just a kiss. It was a confession.

My eyes fluttered closed as he pressed closer, one hand cradling my jaw gently. His rough thumb pad stroked along my cheekbone as if I were something precious, something that might break.

I let him set the pace. This wasn't just our first kiss. This might be the first kiss Luka had ever initiated that wasn't tactical, wasn't part of a mission.

Then something shifted. A small sound escaped me—half sigh, half moan—and that tiny surrender broke whatever restraint he'd been maintaining.

The kiss transformed from tentative to consuming instantly. His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him as his mouth claimed mine hungrily. The soft brush of lips became heat and need, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips in a silent request I eagerly granted.

When his tongue swept against mine, electric heat shot straight to my core. I gasped into his mouth, fingers fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. He tasted like coffee and something dark and addictive. My body responded eagerly, blood rushing south so quickly I grew lightheaded.

He backed me against the wall, never breaking the kiss, his body pressing against mine from chest to thigh. And god did that feel good . His fingers tangled in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss further. The slight edge of control in the gesture made me moan again, louder this time.

"Fuck," he breathed against my lips, voice roughened with desire. "Vincent..."

The way he said my name like a prayer and a curse combined made my cock throb painfully against the confines of my pants. I'd never wanted anyone like this, with this desperate, consuming need that obliterated thought.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. His pupils had expanded, leaving only a thin ring of blue around bottomless black. His lips, slightly swollen from our kiss, curved into a smirk.

"Still think you can save me, doc?" he murmured, resting his forehead against mine.

"I don't want to save you anymore," I admitted, hands sliding around his waist. "I just want you."

He leaned in for another kiss, this one gentler but no less intense. His hands moved to my hips, fingers digging in possessively.

"This is a bad idea," he whispered against my lips.

"Probably the worst," I agreed, but I made no move to step away.

He pulled back slightly, studying my face. "You should know what you're getting into, Vince. I'm not... I don't do relationships. I don't know how."

"Neither do I," I confessed. "Not healthy ones, anyway."

His laugh was soft against my mouth. "Match made in hell, then."

"Perfect for each other." I kissed him again, brief but promising. "We'll figure it out."

We stood there for another moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. Then Luka stepped back .

"You should get some sleep," he said, voice rough. "It's been a long day."

I wanted to protest, to pull him back to me, but something in his expression stopped me. He needed space to process what had just happened between us.

"Goodnight, Luka," I said instead, allowing him to retreat.

He nodded, already moving toward the couch. "Goodnight, doc."

Later, as I lay alone in bed staring at the ceiling, I replayed our kiss in my mind. The heat of his body against mine, the taste of him, the way his hands had held my face like I was something precious. Sleep felt impossible with my body still humming from his touch, my cock painfully hard.

I listened carefully. The apartment was quiet except for the faint sounds of Luka shifting on the couch in the living room. Just a room away, yet it felt like miles. Was he thinking about our kiss, too? Was he as affected as I was?

Professional ethics be damned. I wanted him with an intensity that frightened me.

My hand slid beneath the sheets almost of its own accord, fingers wrapping around my aching cock. As I began to stroke, a name formed on my lips, impossible to hold back .

"Luka..."