neck, scorching my skin with just his touch.
“Lying in the Lord’s house?” he tsks. “I’ll tell you what I wonder. I wonder if you’re still as soft under my touch with nothing between us. I wonder if these lips” —his thumb rubs over my mouth harshly— “kiss other men the way you used to kiss me. And I’m wondering if you moan as sweetly with a man between your legs as you did for me.”
Shoving him away from me, he laughs.
“You speak like we haven’t been trying to kill each other for the last ten years.”
Losing his smirk, he turns serious. “If you wanted me dead, you would’ve done it long ago. But you misunderstand me, Mila. I want to destroy your world, but you’re still my weakness.”
The shock rapidly fades to anger, and I clench my fists, hating he can see he’s getting to me.
“Then I’ll be your downfall. The past is long gone and buried with our parents. The only reason I haven’t put a bullet between your eyes is because I don’t have a gun in hand. You misunderstand me, Raphael. I don’t live in the past, thinking of all the what-ifs. And I won’t hesitate to take you down.”
As we stare one another down, I find his startling blue eyes don’t capture me the way they once did. There were times when I could look into them for hours.
“Blue eyes weeping.”
But they won’t be crying for me, because I plan to take him down with me if Father’s Luke’s vision is true.
“It will be me who disposes of Alexander, and the Camarco’s will once and for all reign supreme over Vita. Mark my words, Raphael. If you fight with your heart, it will get you killed. But if you fight with your head, you might live to fight me another day. Don’t stand there and tell me you still believe in prophecies?”
Losing his cocky bravado, his eyes harden.
Knowing I’ve struck a nerve, I advise, “The next time you’re feeling brave enough to step into my territory, take your gun and use it on yourself, and save me the bullet.”
His nostrils flare before he turns abruptly and stalks toward the exit. As soon as he slams the door behind him and he’s out of sight, I breathe in a lungful of air and let it out slowly. What the hell’s gotten into him tonight? We’re not, and never will be, what we used to be. He can’t honestly harbour any kind of feelings other than hatred toward me… can he?
Clinging to the shadows in the alley beside the church, trepidation builds as I wait for Raphael. Our kiss is all I’ve been able to think about. Every now and then, I’ll touch my lips just to feel where his had been.
My first kiss was with a boy three years older than me—the son of one of my father’s soldiers—at the Christmas party my parents throw every year. It was obvious he had kissed plenty of girls, where I fumbled nervously, and couldn’t wait for it to be over. In hindsight, I wish Raphael was my first. I wasn’t nervous with him. It’s like I knew exactly what to do: when to angle my head, and when to sweep my tongue over his. It was everything a kiss should be.
That night, as I sat down to dinner with my parents, I was happy. And having my own secret from them felt good. If my father knew I had let a Marocchi touch me, he would punish me beyond anything my imagination could conjure up. If he finds out I’m meeting up with him, he’ll have me shipped out of the city until he can marry me off. Yet, the excitement of sneaking around and sticking to the shadows is feeding life into my soul.
A boy with a baseball cap shoved down over his eyes pushes through the crowd, and I know it’s him.
My hands clam up at the sight of him, and a smile takes over my face. Stepping deeper into the alley as he gets closer, he envelopes me in his warmth, cradling my face in his hands to kiss me once again.
“I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I last saw you,” he whispers. His admission has my smile growing wider.
Before I can respond with my own acknowledgement, he takes me by the hand and leads me to the side door of the church. Once inside, I’m surprised to find he