.
Not deranged at all.
I dream about chasing you all the time.
Be heard,
-Me
MILENA
For part of the night, I have nightmares.
Floods of red blood. Muffled screams and a twisting, macabre mask of death.
But then the scenes of horror fade, and the darkness morphs into something different that sends an aching throb into my core. The shadows twist, hands and fingers and tongues materializing out of the blackness to caress, touch and lick.
Pleasure tingles over my skin and tightens between my legs. Needy hunger pulses through me, centering on my clit as I writhe and whimper, concentrating on the feeling between my thighs even as I gasp for more.
My eyes flutter open, and the shadows dissipate into morning sunlight filtering through the drawn curtains.
It all comes back: the basement at Greymoor. The blood. The sex. The madness.
I know now—know, without a doubt—that there’s something wrong with me. I didn’t just not fight Nero when he fucked me in front of Leo.
I craved it. Not just the sex, but the leering, snarling darkness that came with it. Stepping into Nero’s madness, seeing the world through the lens of his viciousness, made me so fucking wet that I should hate myself for it.
I don’t.
Maybe it should feel weird that I watched him kill someone last night right in front of me. That I watched someone die.
But there’s just this sense of relief.
My mind replays the way I watched, wide-eyed and still throbbing from his cock as Nero walked over and calmly slit Leo’s throat, then walked back to me, blood on his hands as he flipped me over, wrapped his fingers around my throat, and fucked me again, looking into my eyes as I gave myself over to damnation.
I remember him carrying me upstairs and out to the car, then driving me back here, to his house…
The pulsing pressure between my legs grows stronger. Pressure rolls over my clit, and I suddenly realize this is not a dream.
My eyes fly open, and I gasp when they lock with venomous green.
“Morning,” Nero murmurs languidly.
I watch his hand between my legs stroke over my aching clit, his shoulder and arm muscles rippling. Then he sinks a finger into me, making me whimper softly.
“Nero…” I coo softly. My hands go to his bare torso, my fingers sliding over his chiseled abs and chest, scratching him lightly with my nails as I moan.
His finger pushes into me, stroking against my g-spot as my legs spread on their own accord.
“Good morning…” I gasp breathlessly, my hips rolling.
His lips brush mine, and for a second, I’m almost thrown by how…normal this is. Just regular-person morning playtime.
No chases through the dark. No brutality. No hands around my throat. No utter and breathless submission.
It’s not like I’m tired of all that, not one bit. I don’t want a break from our usual games. It’s just that this is so different. I find myself melting against him as he kisses me slowly, his tongue swirling with mine, tasting and stroking. His fingers tease over my clit before sinking back into my slick heat.
His bulging hard cock throbs against my thighs, and I moan into his kiss as I reach down to wrap my small hand around him.
God. Damn, he’s big—so thick that my fingers don’t touch as they curl around him. I stroke him slowly, feeling him swell against my thighs as he growls into my mouth. Stickiness is already leaking from his swollen head onto my skin as I start to stroke him faster. I bring my other hand down, wrapping both of them around him, stacked on top of each other. There’s still more of him poking out the top and grinding against my skin.
I want him. All of him.
Now.
It’s like Nero has read my thoughts. I whimper into his kiss as he lifts my leg. I pull his bulging head to my pussy, trembling when I feel the swollen heat of him drag up and down my lips. His hand tangles in my platinum locks as he starts to push into me—
There’s a loud, sharp knock at the bedroom door.
I flinch, jolting as he hisses under his breath and turns to glance over his shoulder in the direction of the interruption.
“What?!” he snarls.
“Morning!”
He groans. So do I, cringing when I hear Gabby’s voice.
“Nero, does your little sleepover friend want to have breakfast?”
“Jesus, Gabby,” he grunts. “Go away!”
He turns back to me and starts to push his dick into me again.
“Is that a yes to breakfast?”
I bite back a giggle. He scowls as he glances over his shoulder again.
“No! Now fuck off, Gabby!”
“Can she answer for herself, please?”
“I’m okay!” I call out. “Thanks, though!”
“Hey, girl!” she calls through the door.
Nero groans, dropping his head to the pillow.
“Hey, Gabriella,” I giggle back.
“Oh, you can call me Gabby,” she says.
“And you can have this conversation,” Nero growls into my ear, “when I’m not in the middle of fucking you.”
“I—I don’t need breakfast!” I call out. “Thanks, though.”
“Don’t forget, girl,” Gabby hollers. “Too hot to have your time wasted. ’K, byyeee.”
After we hear her walk away, Nero turns back to me, his brow furrowing.
“The fuck does that mean,” he mutters.
I smile, shaking my head. “Nothing.”
“Good. Now spread your legs so I can fuck you awake properly.”
I find myself grinning as his previous gentle veneer shatters, revealing the usual feral Nero underneath. He grabs my thigh, lifting my leg and making me gasp as he slaps my clit with his heavy cock.
“We should go out some time.”
He tenses, his eyes dragging up to mine.
“What?”
“Like, out-out.” I suck my lip between my teeth as I look at him. “You know, like…”
“A date,” he grunts.
“Yes?”
“Hard pass.”
He sinks his thick head into me, sending waves of pleasure through my core.
“Wait.”
Nero glowers at me as I press my hands to his chest, holding him back.
“I’m serious,” I murmur.
He frowns. “If your plan is to blackmail me into taking you out on a date by withholding pussy, it won’t end well for you.”
My face flushes. “Oh? Why?”
“Because I’ll just fuck you anyway.”
Aaaand I’m wet. I mean, I was already. But the second he says that, the floodgates open.
And Nero definitely feels it.
He pounces, overpowering me and rolling me onto my back. My pulse thuds as he pins my wrists above my head and lets his piercing green eyes do the same to the rest of me.
“Interesting,” he murmurs. “I think you like that idea.”
“I—” Words fail me as I squirm against him. I glance down between us, my core tightening when I see his huge dick bobbing right above my pussy.
Nero growls quietly as he lowers his hips, using only them to drag his obscenely big dick over my pussy. The head glides across my clit, making me whimper as he rolls his hips again.
He lets his heavy cock drag lower, spreading my lips and gliding the head up and down over my opening as my entire body trembles and melts for him.
“Okay!” I blurt. “No withholding sex for a date!”
He chuckles darkly.
“But…” I swallow. “How about a trade?”
Nero arches a brow. “Of?”
“Information. There are things I don’t know about you,” I shrug. “And I’d like to.”
He looks mildly amused as he looks down into my eyes.
“Well, there are things I don’t know about you.”
My brow quirks up skeptically. “Really? I thought you’d pried into all my secrets.”
His lips curl at the corners. “There’s always room for improvement.”
“Well, the point—” I gasp sharply, swallowing a whimper as his fat cock teases back up over my clit again. “The point is—okay, stop. I can’t have this conversation while you’re doing that.”
”Make me.”
I glare at him. He grins.
“The point is,” I choke out, “I want to know more about you.”
Nero actually does stop then.
“Why?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused.
I sigh heavily. “I just do, okay? Like…” I desperately try and think of an example as he keeps teasing my clit with his cock. “Like…” I nod my chin at the tattoo that snakes over his forearm, curling down over the back of his hand.
“What’s that tattoo of? Are those dates? Coordinates?”
“Yes and yes.”
I roll my eyes. “Of?”
When Nero frowns I squeeze my thighs shut, smirking. Then I whimper as he shoves one hand down between us and starts to physically pry my legs apart.
“Tell me and I’ll let you,” I blurt.
“Or I don’t and do it anyway.”
I sigh, looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”
Nero groans, rolling his eyes. “Fine, Jesus.” He glances at the ink. “It’s Krakatoa.”
My brows knit. “The volcano? Why do you have that tattooed on your arm?”
He pauses for a moment, eyeing me like he’s trying to decide if he’s going to humor me or flip me over and fuck me with…or without…my consent.
I mean, he’s got it, but, you know.
“When Krakatoa went off in Sumatra in 1883, the explosion was three hundred and ten decibels,” he says. “It was, and still is, the loudest sound ever recorded in human history, equal to a two-hundred-megaton bomb.”
Woah.
“The sound wave went around the Earth three times”, he continues. “People heard it three thousand miles away, and people forty miles away had ruptured eardrums.”
Holy. Shit.
“Why do you have it tattooed on you?”
He shrugs. “It’s inspirational to me.”
I grin. “Because it caused mayhem and destruction?”
“Maybe,” he grins back. “Or because it was the loudest fucking thing on Earth.” He eyes lock with mine. “Maybe I just like to be heard.”
He pushes his knee between my legs and roughly shoves them apart. He nudges his cock against my lips and start to push his still-hard cock into me.
“Hang on—”
“Nope,” he murmurs, smiling darkly. “You got your question.”
“I have a second one. Shall I stop you now, or later?”
He rolls his eyes dramatically as he sits back on his haunches, glaring at me.
“Fine. Fuck,” he mutters. I grin impishly and pull my knees up to my chest.
“How do you and Kir know each other?”
He tenses, his eyes darkening.
“Careful, princess,” he murmurs.
I cock my head to the side, folding my arms over my bare chest, which I realize is probably more humorous-looking than tough.
He eyes me coolly. “Why are you asking me this?”
I feel my throat work.
“Milena—”
“I saw you the other night,” I blurt.
He frowns. “When?”
“When I didn’t show up at Greymoor that first night you told me to come back.” I pause. “I… I did. Show up, I mean. I was just…”
“Early,” Nero mutters, his eyes locked on me. “What exactly did you hear.“
I look down at my hands, instantly regretting bringing this up and cursing myself for being such an idiot.
“What did you hear, princess,” he murmurs quietly.
“Enough.”
His mouth twists. “And what did you see.”
“A lot,” I whisper hoarsely.
The bedroom goes silent. I stare at his chest, unable to look him in the eye. Then he cups my chin, lifting it until my eyes trail up his face to his gaze.
“Four years ago, my mother and father were killed,” he says flatly. “Executed.”
My whole body stiffens. My pulse is suddenly roaring in my ears, and it feels like my throat is squeezing in on itself.
My family did that, a voice screams in my head.
“I was attacked that night, too” he grits out. “They were mercenaries. I never found out who hired them. I don’t know if they even knew. It’s not like we had a shortage of enemies.”
A horrible, twisting sensation wrenches at my heart as my stomach drops.
Nero, or Laz.
Both are mafia. Both have, and had, plenty of enemies. I looked into it after that day at the bookstore with Laz: his family was embroiled in a bloody conflict with a Bulgarian mafia family at the time that my uncle and the De Lucas were briefly at war.
Was it Nero I was with that night, who sent me running as he was getting shot at by my uncle’s hired guns? Or was it Laz Kislev, dodging a hail of Bulgarian mafia gunfire as he told me to leave via the back door and not look back?
Either way, Nero still doesn’t know that it was my damn family who killed his. And right now, that hurts much worse than any bruise or cut.
“The night of the attack, they found my parents at a restaurant my father owned.”
His voice is flat; hardened. His face is steely and tense as he looks though me.
“They raped my mother, and made my father watch before killing them both.”
I start to cry before I realize it’s happening. Tears flood down my face as I bury my head against his chest.
I know I didn’t pull any triggers that night. I didn’t aid or abet the murderers in any way. But not telling him what I know feels just as awful.
“The two men you saw me with that night, in the side yard at Greymoor…” His arms wrap around me. “They were the two men that night that held my father down.” He shakes his head. “Do not feel bad for them.”
I don’t.
I feel bad for him.
Horrible.
A tremor ripples through my body, and I feel Nero’s arms tighten around me. Then he slowly pulls back, reaching for my chin and lifting my face to his again. He frowns as he brushes the tears from my cheeks, and our eyes lock. “You never need to be scared of me, baby. Not ever.”
His mouth descends to mine, lips molding to my own. It’s a soft kiss at first, then grows more heated and passionate. My legs widen, and I kiss him with even more hunger as I wrap them around his waist.
“Wait,” he murmurs.
I giggle quietly into his lips. “Oh, you’re stopping me now?”
He smirks. “Only to ask you what you’re doing tomorrow night.”
Heat floods my cheeks. Then I wince.
“Shit. I have late rehearsal.”
“The night after, then,” he grunts. “I want to take you out.”
I bite my lip as his green eyes ensnare me. “What’s the catch?”
“How about you just shut up and take the win, princess,” he murmurs.
Then I’m moaning deeply as he sinks his cock into me, pushing deep as his mouth crushes to mine.
It’s 5 a.m. the next day when Dominic gives me a ride back to my house. I slip in through the front door after a quick hello to the guards on duty. I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear throat being cleared behind me.
“You’re home early,” Papa says.
I tense, wincing.
“Or late,” he chuckles.
My face is burning as I slowly turn to face him.
“Morning, Papa.”
He smiles at me. “Come,” he beckons. “Have coffee with me.”
I smile weakly, nodding as I follow him through the house into the kitchen. He pours me a cup, tipping in a splash of milk, no sugar, just how I like it.
He hands it to me and sits at the breakfast nook by the window, patting the table invitingly. I sit across from him and we sip our coffees, steam curling around our noses.
“Sorry I didn’t come home last night. It got late, so I crashed at Evelina’s house.”
A slight smirk dances across Papa’s handsome face.
“Milena… I was born, but it wasn’t yesterday.” He nods his chin at me. “Who’s the boy?”
My pulse skips.
“Papa—”
“You’re not in trouble,” he chuckles. “You’re a grown woman, and your personal life is your own business. I’m asking because I’m your father and I care about you. I want to make sure you’re not hurt.” He clears his throat. “Also, I worry when you’re out all night.”
“Sorry,” I mumble.
He shakes his head. “That’s all right, solnyshka.” He looks at me pointedly, still smirking slightly. “So… Who is he?”
I drop my eyes to my coffee mug. “You won’t like it,” I mutter.
He makes a face. “Christ, it wasn’t Leo, was it?”
My nose wrinkles. “Uh, no. Definitely not.”
“How did that go, by the way?” he frowns. “Your sit-down with him.”
Visions of blood tsunamis and sticky red fingers wrapped around my throat slam into me. My insides coil, replaying the all-consuming madness of piercing green eyes pinning me to the dirty table as a thick cock split me open.
“Just lovely,” I say flatly. “Leo got drunk and tried to put his hands on me.”
Papa’s face turns dark. Viciousness flickers in his eyes as his strong jaw clenches and his tattooed fingers tighten around the coffee mug in front of him.
“Did he, now,” he hisses quietly. “Then he’s a dead man, Milena.”
I smile wryly.
“It’s fine, Papa. I mean, it wasn’t, but I shoved him away and ran out of the bar.”
He dips his chin, smiling softly. “That’s my girl.”
We sip our coffee in silence for a moment before Papa clears his throat again.
“Yes, Papa?”
“Who were you really with last night, solnyshka.”
I swallow tightly. “I thought I was a grown woman. That my personal life was my own business.”
“Well, it is,” he says in a steady tone. “Except on nights when you go out with Leo Debolsky and then he vanishes without a trace.”
I’ve never been one to lie to my father. We’re too close for that: we’ve always been there for each other, and he respects me as much as I respect him.
“Milena…”
I take a slow breath before I drop my eyes and lift the coffee mug to my lips.
“Nero De Luca.”
Papa is silent, his face a mask as I slowly take a sip of my coffee.
Then another. And another.
Finally, he nods. “Interesting,” he murmurs. “Very interesting.”
My cheeks warm and my lips curl despite my best efforts. “It’s…”
Papa chuckles quietly. “I see. I take it from your smile that this is a good thing?”
I glance up at him sheepishly and nod. Papa sighs.
“Well, know this: if he treats you poorly, if he harms you in any way, I’ll fucking cut his head off.”
He doesn’t always give me all the gory details, but nothing about my father’s life is hidden from me. So when he says that?
I know he means it. Literally.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” I flush, smiling like a goofball.
“For his sake,” Papa sighs, “I hope it’s not.” His brow furrows. “Did he…help…last night, concerning the problem with Leo?”
I nod. Papa’s mouth purses.
“Did anyone see Nero—more importantly, did anyone see you with Nero when he was…helping with this problem?”
I shake my head firmly. “No. Why?”
“Leo Debolsky was declared missing by his father this morning when he didn’t come home last night. His cell phone was traced to a sewer drain near the Metropolitan Museum.”
“Oh,” I say quietly.
“Indeed,” Papa growls, peering at me. “Milena… Will we be seeing Leo again?”
I swallow and slowly shake my head. “I don’t think so, Papa,” I whisper. My fingers twist together as I look at him. “Is that going to be a problem with Vladimir? He knows I was meeting with Leo—”
“Vladimir Debolsky is not a stupid man, Milena,” Papa grunts. “I would assume he’s well aware of his son’s demons, not to mention his ability to make enemies.” He clears his throat again. “From what I know about Mr. De Luca,” he grunts, “can I assume Leo won’t be popping up anytime soon for someone to find?”
I tremble a little as I hug my arms. “I…don’t think so.”
Papa nods. “Good. Let’s agree to move on and never speak of this again.”
I smile weakly at him. “Let’s do that.”
Papa smiles as he picks up his coffee mug and taps it against mine. He takes a sip, turning to look out the window into the back garden as he exhales slowly.
“De Luca,” he murmurs, letting the name roll over his tongue as if to see how it tastes. “Interesting.”
I smile wryly. “You’d have preferred it to be a Russian guy.”
Papa chuckles, shaking his head. “What I prefer is that my daughter is happy, safe, and respected.” He eyes me. “If he slips up with any of those things, even once, the smallest bit, you will tell me, please.”
I grin. “So that you can carve him into little pieces, stuff him into an oil drum, and roll him off the back of a boat somewhere down-current of the city?”
He smirks. “Who said anything about little pieces?”
“Papa—”
He chuckles, reaching over to take my hand. “In all seriousness, I did always imagine you ending up with a Russian.” He smiles. “Funny—Dmitriy Kislev has tiptoed around the subject of his son Laz and you on more than a few occasions.”
A shiver tickles down my spine.
“Has he?”
Papa nods. “He has. But as I’ve always said, my daughter is not a bargaining chip.”
I grin as I squeeze his hand. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
“An Italian…” he muses, smiling to himself, shaking his head. “Well, who knows. Maybe Nero will submit to one of those DNA tests and discover he’s got some Russian in him after all.”
“Problem solved,” I laugh. Then I glance at the time and wince.
“Shoot, I need to get to work.”
I stand and walk over to him, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. As I turn to go, a thought hits me. I turn back to him, frowning.
“Papa…You and Kir are friends, right?”
He nods slowly. “We’re friendly. I’m not sure Kir has friends, to be honest. But I trust and respect him, and I think he feels the same about me. Why?”
“Do you know why he and Nero might be friendly?”
Something flickers across his face that’s gone as quickly as it came.
“What does Nero say?”
“He…doesn’t.”
Papa smiles. “I don’t know, solnyshka. Maybe they do business together.”
I nod slowly, the wheels in my head turning.
Then I go upstairs to get ready for work.
