Page 51

When you’ve spent most of your life drowning in darkness, you forget how blinding even a flicker of light can be.

And that’s what she is.

Not just a flicker, but a flare.

Something bright and warm in a world that’s always felt cold and cruel. Something that burns when I get too close, but I keep coming closer anyway.

And right now… I don’t know what the hell is happening inside me.

Because I can’t remember the last time I felt anything like this. The way my stomach twists when she looks at me like I’m not something broken. The way her voice softens when she says my name. The way she touches me like I’m made of more than scars and blood.

Butterflies. Fuck.

I didn’t even think I was capable of that feeling.

But right now? It feels like a thousand of them are taking flight inside me, and every one of them is screaming her name.

The moment she whispered those two words , I’m yours, something inside me came undone.

Not cracked, not chipped... un-fucking-done.

Like a lock I didn’t know was still holding had suddenly been broken wide open. And I know, fuck, I know , there’s no putting it back together. Not the way it was before.

I don’t know how she did it. How I let her, when I let her. But somehow, Jordyn’s managed to reach parts of me I buried so deep I stopped believing they existed. The pieces I bolted shut, welded in place, forgotten beneath the wreckage of who I’ve become. Who he made me.

And now? They’re hers.

Every fractured, rusted, ugly part of me is unravelling in her hands.

We’re so close I can almost taste the warmth of her breath drifting across my lips like a breath of smoke.

Her mouth hovers inches away, soft and inviting, lips slightly parted, as though they live only to be pressed against mine.

Her hands, delicate yet insistent, are curled at the nape of my neck, fingertips sinking into my hair as if she fears that one wrong move will shatter this fragile world we’ve built in a single heartbeat.

And God, I want her.

I want to taste her. To take her. To sink into her until the rest of the world disappears.

But more than that? I want her to remember this for the right reasons.

I want to give her something better than this, better than a half-broken man with blood on his skin and pain stitched into his bones.

So, I breathe her in like she’s the only thing roping me to the ground. I brush my thumb along her jaw, slow and aching, and I press my forehead to hers.

My voice is wrecked when I speak, raw with the truth I never thought I’d say out loud—especially to her.

“I want you so fucking bad it hurts, bambina.”

She exhales, shaky and soft. “But not like this,” I whisper. “Not when I’m bleeding, not when I can’t hold you the way I need to.”

Her eyes search mine, and I see it, the question, the ache, the understanding.

I cup the side of her face like she’s something fragile. Like if I touch her too hard, I’ll break both of us.

“When my shoulder heals,” I murmur, “when I can hold you without flinching... I’ll show you what it means to be truly wanted . Not just fucked. Not just touched but worshipped. ”

My throat goes tight.

“You deserve more than pain and impulse, Jordyn. You deserve every slow and tender kiss. Every fucking second of it. And I swear, when I’m whole again…” I press my lips to her temple and close my eyes. “…you’ll get all of me.”

Jordyn’s quiet for a second. I can feel her breathing steadily, then she pulls back enough to meet my eyes, and when they do, I see a flicker of something in her gaze...something, akin to wounded, perhaps. Shit . What is it I’ve said that has her looking at me like that?

“I thought you preferred your women experienced ?” she utters, soft but pointed. “Didn’t you say you don’t do soft and gentle?”

Those words hit me like a wrecking ball straight to the gut.

Not because she’s wrong. Because she is .

Because that was before she came tumbling into my life. So, I shake my head, slow and firm, my thumb brushing over her soft cheek.

“I’ve had bodies. Heat and noise.” I pause, my voice thickening. “But this? This calm you give me…it’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever felt.”

I hear her breath catch, just a little, and I lean in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“And for the record? I’ve never wanted to be gentle with anyone.

.. ever . Never needed slow or soft.” I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes again, my hand splaying over her ribs, where her heart races beneath my palm.

“But with you… I want to, bambina. I want to feel and breathe in every fucking second of it.”

That wounded look from before vanishes, and the corner of her lip tips up ever so slightly in a faint smile.

The room is enveloped in the soft, golden light of dawn as the sun begins to rise.

As much as I want to draw out this fleeting moment, keep her here, wrapped in silence and bare skin, amidst everything left unsaid, I am acutely aware of the time.

The staff will be arriving soon.

And if anyone sees her leaving my room like this, barefoot, hair a mess, skin flushed and wearing that nightdress, it won’t be whispers. It’ll be carnage.

I draw back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, though every fibre of my being craves to keep her near. “It’s almost dawn, you need to go, bambina,” I murmur, my voice a low, intimate rumble. “Before anyone notices you’re missing.”

She opens her mouth to argue, I can see it in the crease of her brow, the way her bottom lip trembles like she’s about to fight me on it.

But I don’t let her speak.

I dip my head and take her mouth in a kiss that ends the conversation.

It's not soft, nor gentle. It’s final . I pour into it everything I’m not ready to say yet. Everything I will say, when the time is right. Her fingers curl in my hair, her body pressing into mine like she doesn’t want to leave.

I know, bambina. I don’t want you to go, either.

But when I draw back, my lips linger against hers, and I regrettably whisper, “Go, bambina. Before I change my mind and spread you out on this bed and make a fucking mess of you.”

I hear her gasp softly, and I smirk, just a little, because I want her to remember those words as she walks out of here.

I want her to feel them for the rest of the damn day.

She doesn’t move at first… just lingers there, lips swollen from my kiss, her breath uneven. Her eyes flick between mine like she’s etching the moment into her mind, like she knows we’re standing at the edge of something, and once she pulls away, the air won’t feel the same.

Then she leans in, one last time, and brushes her nose against mine .

It’s so tender it fucking hurts.

It’s not a kiss or a goodbye. Just that quiet little thing she does when she’s letting me feel her without saying anything.

She lingers there for a heartbeat longer, then pulls back, and I feel every inch of distance like a loss.

She bends to pick up her robe from the floor, red silk spilling through her fingers as she shrugs it back over her shoulders, tying it loosely at her waist. She doesn’t look at me right away.

And I don’t say a word. I just stand there, every part of me screaming to stop her.

To pull her back in and finish what we started.

But I don’t. I let her leave.

She moves to the door, barefoot and silent, fingers brushing the handle. Then she pauses, looks back at me over her shoulder with that half-smile that always unravels me.

“Don’t forget to feed Ladro,” she reminds me softly.

And before I can respond, she’s gone. Leaving me standing in the middle of the room, bleeding, burning, and already missing her like hell.

“Mangia, piccolo ladro.” Eat, little thief .

The soft, silken fur of the kitten ripples as he flicks his tail and lowers his head toward the creamy bowl of milk, as if he understands me. His demeanour suggests he knows exactly who owns the place, but he couldn’t care less.

I watch Ladro delicately sniff at the milk, his ears twitching with curiosity, his tail flicking arrogantly. The gentle patter of his tiny paws is barely audible in the quiet kitchen. Suddenly, Dante’s deep voice cuts through the silence from behind me.

“Ares?” I turn slightly to glance over my shoulder.

There he stands, filling the doorway with his imposing six-foot-four frame, broad-shouldered and brimming with untapped power, arms crossed defensively, confusion etched across his rugged features.

His gaze drops to the small ball of fur perched on the kitchen island, and the furrow in his brow deepens with bewilderment.

“What do you know about kittens?” I ask, my voice steady and flat.

He blinks, once, twice, each blink slower as if processing an unexpected puzzle.

“Uh... not a whole lot.” His eyes remain fixed on Ladro, as if expecting the little creature might spontaneously combust. “Didn’t exactly have you pegged as a cat guy.”

I return my attention to the kitten, now uninterested in the milk, gazing up at me with wide, unblinking blue eyes that seem to pierce through my very soul, judging silently.

He licks his tiny mouth once, almost mockingly.

Smug little bastard.

I exhale deeply, dragging a hand across my stubbled jaw, feeling the roughness beneath my fingers.

“Neither did I.”

I don’t say anything for a beat. Just stare at the damn thing while it blinks at me like it already knows too much. I don’t know how it got in, why it chose my house, or why it hasn't left. But I know one thing.

Jordyn cared.

Enough to laugh for real. Enough to stay. Enough to smile in a way that carved straight into the parts of me I never show.

So yeah. The kitten stays.

I straighten, keeping my eyes on Ladro as I speak.

“Get someone to take him to the vet. Full checkup. Vaccinations. Whatever he needs.”

Dante blinks again. “You serious?”

I look over at him, deadpan. “Does it look like I’m joking?”

He shifts, glancing back at the kitten like it just became a permanent fixture in the Russo household.