Page 33 of Darkest Kiss

“Fuck. I hadn’t thought of that.” She sags against me, breathing hard, and her face crumples. "I hate this."

My touch tentative, I stroke her shoulder blade. "I know."

"Let go.” She yanks away from my touch. “I'm not running. I got winded trying to make it halfway across the room." She swipes at her face with the back of her hand, furious about the tears, turning away to hide them. "God, I hate that I do this."

I set her on the couch and keep a foot of space between us, placing my hands where she can see them.

"If you were watching me,” she asks, putting things together quicker than I’d hoped, “how did I get taken?"

She’s going to know how you fucked up, Beast says. Better just fuck her into submission and answer her questions later.

Beast says it the way he says everything about her lately. As if she's a fat steak on a plate he’s eyeing. I keep him on a short chain when it comes to Noemi. The way you'd keep a dog away from a child. Not because the dog has done anything, but because you've seen its teeth and you know what they're for.

Everything else, I can joke about. Not this.

“Rian?” she prompts.

“Yeah. I’m here,” I answer. It’s my automatic response when I take too long to answer because I’m wrestling silently with Beast.

She’s asking for the story of how I failed her. It isn’t exactly going to paint me in the best light.

"Right. You got taken while I had to leave for the day." My jaw aches with the admission. "I came back and the shop was boarded up. You were gone and it took me days to find you.” I clench my teeth. “Days you spent in a body you couldn't move while men decided what you were worth. I'll be apologizing for that on my hands and knees for the rest of my life."

“Oh, Rian.” She sucks in a breath. “Only Anders Vitelli is responsible for me ending up in that auction. You don’t need to apologize for what he did.”

I feel like a piece of shit for not telling her here and now that her aunt Kathleen was also responsible. But I’m a coward. I just want to comfort her, cover her in bubble wrap and shield her from the cruel world.

“I’ll never let it happen again, Noemi. Never.”

Her gaze stays on me for almost a minute while she calculates something. Whether I mean what I say, maybe. Then she waves her hand.

“If I’m not going anywhere, can I get some more ginger ale? I think I’m about to pass out.”

“Of course.” I snag her can and bring it to her. Our fingers brush; I try not to luxuriate in that brief moment of contact.

“So?” She takes a big swig. “What now? Unless you hope I’m staying here forever.” She gives me a hard look. “Don’t count on that.”

My lips curl up. Even dead tired, she’s still got that fire.

"I’ve been asking myself a question. Why take you? Why not kill you on the street like a normal crime family?” I sit down on the couch. “What did you do, Noemi? What did you see?"

Her jaw sets. "I don't know you well enough to tell you that."

"Here's what I think. Okay? The Vitellis wanted you gone in a way that couldn't land back on them. A girl who is auctioned, a girl who disappears into the trade, is a girl nobody goes looking for. As far as the world's concerned, you'd just stop existing."

A line forms between her eyebrows that I would desperately like to smooth, but I keep my hands to myself. For now. Instead, I continue, "The Vitellis think the auction solved their problem. They assume that you’re gone. The day they learn you're alive and not, let's say, broken in by your new owner, they’ll come to finish the job. They won't be gentle about it either, because you've embarrassed them."

"Broken in by my owner." She shudders. "I think I’m getting the gist of why you bought me. As far as anyone out there knows, I'm just some sicko's pet now."

"As far as anyone knows, you're mine.” I touch her shoulder. “Nobody touches what belongs to me. You understand?"

"Sort of." Her voice is quiet. "Stay locked in your gorgeous penthouse playing the well-behaved doll, or step outside and get murdered. You realize that's just a prettier death, right? A slower one, with better sheets. I’ll end up dead either way."

“That’s not true,” I argue, frustrated. “You have options. My crew is going to take the Vitelli family apart. All of them, down to the last soldier. When it's done, when there's nobody left who knows your name or cares about it, you go wherever you want. I’ll follow you… but you can still lead."

We’re just trying to keep her safe, Beast growls. Why doesn’t she get that? She should be fawning over us and sucking our–

I clench my teeth, shutting out his train of thought. Not helpful.