Mercenary (Gangsters of New York #3) - Bella Di Corte Page 0,115
told you I would allow you to.” He moved my hand down further, to his heart. “Do it, Alcina. If you’re going to kill me, do it. Fucking do it.” He pressed it harder against him, and more blood started to run from his skin.
“You killed my trust,” I whispered. “My faith in you.”
“No,” he said, reaching up to tuck his hand deep into my hair. His thumb stroked my chin. “I swear on Eleonora.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why would you allow me to kill you then?”
“I’m killing you anyway,” he said. “My life. Me. I’d rather die than see you this way.”
My hand started to tremble, and something rushed through me, something so powerful that a sob rocked me to my core, even though I did not shed a tear.
What was wrong with me? I blinked at him, trying to bring him into focus, my mind sharpening. The poisons from the vipere started to recede, and I realized, the only damage was inside of me.
Before I could move, Corrado flipped me on my back. Instead of letting the knife go, I went to catch it before it slipped out of my hand. It cut my palm. He took it from me, throwing it toward the fireplace, and then pinned me down beneath him.
His hands were like steel bars around my wrists. “I should have known,” he said, his voice sharp. “Your eyes don’t belong to an angel. They belong to a witch. You put me under a fucking spell.”
I tried to push against his hold, but he was too strong. “Go to hell,” I hissed at him, matching his fury with my own.
He let one of my wrists go, his hand reaching around my throat, the pressure worse than it was the night in Como. “What did I tell you?” he whispered. “I would kill you.”
“I have always been faithful to you,” I barely got out.
“Have you?” He tilted his head. Blood rushed from the cuts. His heart must have been pumping faster. “I don’t know what the fuck was said in that room between you and Rocco Fausti.”
I lifted my chin, giving him better access. “He was worried about me. That I was unhappy.”
The pressure increased. “You agreed with him.”
“No,” I rasped out. “I’m only unhappy because I can see you are dying inside. You are…going places I can’t follow, and I cannot save you!”
His eyes were hard before he released me. Before I could even catch my breath, his mouth was on mine, giving me the breath I could not seem to find.
I cried out and then moaned, months of frustration and hurt and longing, all coming out in those two sounds. He parted my legs, and on a thrust that was so intense it made me put a hand behind my head to stop from hitting the headboard, he took my free hand, moved it above my head, and squeezed. His blood and mine entwined and stained our palms red.
It smeared between our bodies as we moved together.
“This,” he said. “This is what I live and die for.” His neck arched back, exposing his throat, the blood dripping down in a steady stream.
I reached up and wiped it with my hand, applying pressure to stop the overflow of it.
“Corrado,” I moaned out, a truly crazed sound. The madness had gotten inside of our hearts and rushed through our bloodstreams. This one man could drive me out of my mind but make me feel sane in the same breath.
He started to move slower, reaching me even deeper than flesh, blood, and bone. I could not remove him if I tried. Not even with a sharp knife.
His eyes were on mine as he moved, and even though his body demanded mine to bow to his, his eyes were servants to mine. They were lowered, almost closed. As warm as honey in the glow of the firelight as he gazed at me.
“Come back to me,” I whispered. “Be one with me again.”
He hit me even harder, starting to move faster, and I knew it was going to be hard for me to walk after. This was his response, his yes, a reminder that he went deeper than what the eye could see.
We came together in a rush that made me dizzy. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my tilting world. He kept me with him as he turned us.