Page 82 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

LUCA

The past week had been a brutal assault on my senses, memories tearing into me like the jagged edges of broken glass.

No matter how much I tried to drown them out, to bury them beneath layers of practiced indifference, the images rose like a relentless tide, flooding my mind, pulling me under.

Celeste—vivid, untamed, impossible to ignore.

She had burned herself into me. Her voice, her touch, and the rawness of her desire was etched into every corner of my mind.

She’d stirred feelings in me, deep, reckless feelings I’d restrained for years.

I forced myself through every motion of my routine, training, pacing, and pouring myself into anything that kept me busy, but she was always present at the edge of my mind, haunting me.

I had kept busy the past couple of days with The Shadow’s assignments, but even those were tainted with thoughts of her.

The mansion was too quiet tonight, every shadow sharpened, every distant sound amplified. I stalked the hallway, restless, caught somewhere between frustration and surrender. Then I heard a soft, muffled sound that slid past my defenses. A second later, it came again, and it twisted my gut.

I told myself it was my mind playing tricks, a feverish wish conjured out of this unwanted obsession with Celeste, but I found myself moving toward her room before I could even think to stop.

I opened the door, bracing myself to leave if it was nothing, but the sight before me shattered any pretense of indifference.

Celeste was tangled in her sheets, her skin damp with sweat, her breaths shallow and erratic. Dorian and Vincenzo were pacing the room, but when they saw the look in my eyes, they made their exit, leaving me to grapple with whatever this was inside me.

“She’s detoxing from the Phantomine,” Vincenzo explained as he walked past me.

The sight of her hit me like a punch to the gut. She was trapped somewhere between agony and exhaustion, her control splintering.

This wasn’t the strong, sharp-witted woman who could handle whatever was thrown at her. No, right now, she was raw and exposed, and it looked like she was breaking.

“Celeste.” I crossed to her side. I felt so fucking helpless, and that sensation was unfamiliar to me.

She tensed as soon as I said her name, her face hardening, but she wouldn’t look at me.

Even in this state, she was trying to hold on to that last shred of control, to keep up a shield she’d let no one else break through.

I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed. “Dorian told me what Vincenzo did. That he took away the Phantomine.”

She turned glassy, unfocused eyes on me. “I know it’s what I need,” she whispered, each word edged with pain and a forced acceptance I could hardly bear to witness. “But it hurts like a bitch.”

There was no defiance, no fire, only resignation. I nodded, bearing the weight of her admission, the sheer force it must’ve taken her to say those words. She was struggling against herself as much as against the pain and the need for control—fighting against her own vulnerability.

It was a fight I understood too well.

She tried to pull away, to put some distance between us. “You don’t have to… go through this. To see me like this. You should go.”

Before I could stop myself, I brushed her unruly hair out of her face, letting my thumb linger on her cheek. “You think you’re not worth staying for?” A small smile tugged at my mouth despite the pain gnawing at my insides. “You’ve never looked better.”

She let out a sound that could have been a laugh were it not so weak. It was an unspoken thank you that neither of us would voice. Slowly, she leaned into me, each barrier slipping bit by bit until her full weight settled against me.

Her shallow breaths grew slower, but she kept clutching at my shirt as though she was afraid I’d leave her. I stroked her back, steadying her as she relaxed in fits and starts. Each time she tensed, I whispered whatever quiet reassurances I could find, letting her know I was there with her.

After a while, I could sense her surrender, both reluctant and so desperately needed.

I held her tighter, reveling in the warmth of her, the vulnerability I’d never known her to show anyone.

It was the part of her she fought to hide—the part that feared she’d lose control.

I knew that need for power over everything, the belief that it was the only way to survive.

She pressed her face into my shoulder, the tension in her limbs loosening as if she’d finally let herself break, just a little. It was in that moment, in that fractured silence, that I knew it would be okay to let her in, to allow myself to want something, even if only for a few stolen moments.

“Please,” she whispered brokenly. “I just… I need to feel something else.”

The plea shook me. I didn’t need her to elaborate. The torment in her voice and the desperation of her touch, spoke volumes. She needed to escape, to let go, to feel something other than pain.

“Celeste…” I groaned, her name a confession as I traced the outline of her jaw. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated. I saw everything I needed to know in her gaze.

Her eyelids slid shut, lips parting slightly as I leaned toward her, our breaths mingling.

This was dangerous territory, a line we’d never crossed before, but tonight felt different.

Our need for each other was palpable. I could touch it, taste it, smell it all around us.

Or maybe it was just me. I needed this. I craved the feeling of being wanted, of being desired by someone who wasn’t scared of my darkness but embraced it.

My fingers trailed lightly down her jawline before cupping her face gently, my thumbs brushing softly across her cheekbones.

Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I thought she’d change her mind.

But then she leaned into my touch, melting against me.

Her lips were so close—just a whisper away—and the soft puffs of air against my skin sent shivers down my spine.

The heat between us intensified with each passing second, and it took all my self-control not to give in to the temptation right there and then.

I leaned in to close the gap between our lips, but she turned her head.

“I’m sorry, I know it sounds crazy. But I’m not ready for that. I want everything else, but not that.”

I nodded, and instead of kissing her lips, I trailed my lips down her jawline, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin as I went. She shivered at the sensation and let out a small moan that vibrated through me.

Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my arms around her and veilstepped us to the en suite bathroom in my apartment.

Celeste’s eyes went wide as she looked around. “Where are we?”

She looked up at me hesitantly. My chest tightened painfully, that gnawing hunger to care for her, to worship her, warring with the deep, clawing disgust I felt for myself.

“We’re in my apartment. I’m going to take your clothes off now, Celeste.” The words came out rough, strained with a need I barely understood.

She hesitated, just for a moment, then raised her arms above her head.

Her trust in me shattered something inside me.

I pulled her tank top over her head, the damp fabric clinging to her skin before yielding.

With trembling fingers, I unhooked her bra and slid it down her arms, baring her to me.

Next were her shorts and panties, my hands grazing her hips as I tugged them down.

I dropped her clothes onto the bathroom floor without a second thought.

She stood before me, shivering. My gaze roamed over her slowly, reverently. Fuck. She was more than beautiful—she was devastating. I had seen beauty in my long, shadowed life, but Celeste… she was something else entirely. She was alive and wild and untouchable.

And yet here she was, trusting me to touch her.

My breath hitched as I quickly undressed, the urgency in me mounting with every second. The cool marble tiles beneath my feet did nothing to temper the heat surging through my veins. I turned the shower on, and within seconds, steam clouded the space around us.

Pulling her close, I stepped under the stream, the hot water cascading over us. Every inch of her pressed against me, so soft and slick. She leaned back slightly, her body molding to mine, surrendering in a way that both terrified and destroyed me.

How could she trust me like this? Didn’t she see the darkness in me? The shadows that clung to my soul like tar, thick and suffocating?

Her breathing hitched as I slid my hands up her sides, my touch slow and deliberate.

She was velvet under my palms, every curve of her hips and waist fitting perfectly into my hands, as if the gods themselves had carved her just for me.

The thought made my heart ache. I didn’t deserve her.

I’d never deserve her. But gods help me, I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything before.

I cupped one breast, brushing my thumb over the hardened peak. She shivered again, arching into my touch, her body silently begging for more. The sound she made—a soft, needy moan—was my undoing.

I lowered my lips to her neck, placing soft, lingering kisses along the delicate curve.

The salty-sweet taste of her skin mixed with the faint hint of lavender from her shampoo, a combination so intoxicating it made my head spin.

My teeth grazed her neck lightly, the animal inside me begging to mark her, to claim her.

A growl rumbled deep in my chest, the sound vibrating against her skin as my kisses moved lower, tracing the line of her shoulder blades, then the curve of her back.

Every inch of her drove me closer to madness.

Her wide eyes locked onto mine as if I held the answers to some question she couldn’t bring herself to ask. I leaned down, capturing her nipple in my mouth, teasing it with my tongue before nipping softly.