She looks up at me from her hair shield, and sure enough, tears sparkle in her eyes. That alone is enough to make me wish I shoved that stake into my heart. This incredible woman has survived so much—loss, grief, unimaginable betrayal. In the remarkably short time I’ve known her, trauma of every kind has been inflicted upon her. Yet despite it all, she’s stayed strong. Stayed whole. All it took was me to finally break her. I’m a fucking monster, just like I always knew I was.
“Right,” she murmurs, piecing together the timeline. “That’s what gave you the idea to Call me. To bring me to you in the middle of the night and literally mind-fuck me.”
“It’s what made me think it was possible,” I admit. “I needed to see you and I wasn’t sure where to find you, so I tried it. I didn’t know if it would work or not. And before you get too pissed, remember that it was only because of that connection that I was able to track you to Tomasso’s house and get you the hell out of there.”
“Yeah,” she says, her mouth twisting bitterly. “My hero.”
I hate her sarcasm. I hate how she’s looking at me right now, like she’s never met me before. Like everything between us has been a lie. Mainly, I hate myself for not telling her. For putting her in this position. I’m so used to being alone, to constantly fighting, that I forgot how to communicate with someone I give a shit about. Maybe I never knew.
“Look, I’m sorry, all right? I was freaked about it too. I should have told you.” I need to be saying more. Need to be begging, pleading, on my fucking knees in front of her. But the words won’t come.
“You think?” she says, her voice hard but her hands visibly trembling. “You should have told me? When would have been a good time, Luca? Before or after you screwed me in the hotel bathroom? Before or after I let you feed from me? Before or after I started to fucking trust you? Before I started to fucking love you. God, I am such an idiot. None of it was real.”
“No, please. You’re not an idiot. It was real. It was all real. I was right there with you, feeling every second. It was fucking real, all right?”
She’s sobbing openly now, her whole body racked with the force of it. Tears spill down her cheeks and pool at the base of her throat, trickling down to her stupid amulet.
I grab her and am met with kicks and punches and cursed threats. I ignore it all and pull her onto my lap. I crush her close, wrapping my arms around her, and run my hands down her hair as she slaps me and bites at me and tries to headbutt me. She’s angry, but she’s also sad, and that makes her attacks less effective. Thank fuck.
I keep her there, bundled up in my arms, a ball of snot and fury, until she eventually runs out of steam. At least for now. I pull the drape of her hair back from her face and kiss her forehead. Her eyes are screwed closed, and although tears are leaking from their corners, the sobs have subsided.
“It was real, Rosa,” I murmur. “All of it. I never believed it was all down to some centuries-old spell. I always believed it was us. That we are the magic. I still believe that.”
She’s weak now, all fight gone. As she turns her tortured eyes on me, it hits me that it is worse than the alternative.
“You should have told me,” she says. “Instead, you kept it secret because it suited you. You took my choice away. You let me love you, let me fuck you, all while you knew it was possible that I was only feeling those things because of a spell. That I only wanted you because of a spell. Do you know how that feels, Luca, to have all your autonomy taken away from you?”
I do. Of course I fucking do. I was sold into a family of beasts before I was born and turned into a vampire without permission. I was screwed every night by the woman who turned me, and since she died, I’ve been owned by yet another creature who can explode my heart at any moment. Choices? What the fuck are those?
I say none of this. Because it’s not her fault. She wasn’t a part of any of that. She has given me joy. Purpose. A reason to live.
Except now she hates me, and that might be for the best. For both of us.
But I stroke her hair and say, “Cara mia, you always knew I was a bad guy deep down. You say you loved me, but maybe you didn’t. Maybe, as you say, it was all because of a spell. That makes a lot more fucking sense than a woman like you loving a man like me. And if you like, we can talk to Minnie, see if we can get it broken. Then you’ll be free of me, and if it’s what you want, you won’t have to see me again. But first, we need to deal with the situation we’re in. We need to deal with Vincenzo and the men who have betrayed you.”
“Huh,” she scoffs. “The men who have betrayed me? I suppose you think that means Tomasso and Pietro. But right now, the only betrayal I feel is yours. Real or not, Luca, you’ve broken my heart.”
CHAPTER 24
ROSA
The witch finds me an hour or so later. I have relocated to one of the spare bedrooms and showered. I’m not sure any amount of water will wash away the taint of what’s happened, but it’s all I have.
Luca didn’t want to let me go, didn’t want me to leave his room, but I made it clear the days of me doing what he asked were gone. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to trust that my feelings were real and not the byproduct of some creepy-ass spell. Every decision I’ve made—every single thing I’ve felt or done since I met him—is now polluted. The fruit of a poisoned tree.
I’ve asked Pietro and Donna to go over everything we’ve pieced together, to look at all the information with fresh eyes, to pick it all apart without relying on any of my instincts or anything I previously felt sure about.
It needs to be done, because I can’t trust him and I can’t trust my own judgment. And I’m not about to start trusting a witch I don’t know from Eve.
She knocks and pops her pixie-cut head around the door, smiling gently and asking if it’s okay to come in. I relent because she might at least have some answers about the spell. I can make use of her, even if I don’t trust her.
“I brought you some tea.” She places a steaming mug on the bedside table. I sniff the air and come up with chamomile and cinnamon and not much more.
“Don’t worry,” she adds, blinking slowly. “I didn’t add any hemlock. I save that for special occasions. How are you doing?”
“Oh, you know—questioning every choice I’ve made since I met him. Feeling violated by the spell. Feeling betrayed by him for not telling me. Generally pissed at the whole universe.”
“Ah. Right. Well, I’m not sure the tea is going to help, then. But I am sorry for my part in it. I’m sorry you found out like that. I assumed he’d told you, and you know what they say about when we assume things.”
