Page 118 of The Savage

I cry out, gripping his shoulders, body arching, trembling as he kisses and strokes me through it, murmuring praise against my skin.

‘Good girl… angel… fucking perfection. Now, watch me come for you, baby. So hard. Oh shit, so fucking hard.’ He roars his own release and I feel it… him… flood me.

And when the waves ease, I slump against him, breathing hard. With my arms and legs, I hold him close.

He presses kisses down my neck, slow, reverent, hungry.

‘I’ve got you, baby,’ he murmurs. ‘Always.’

And somehow, despite the war outside these walls, despite the shadows in my mind, despite the fear creeping through my ribs…

I believe him.

I let myself believe him.

17

RENZO

Dr Conti fusses over Giada with calm patience I know is part of his routine but dammit, I wish he would hurry the fuck up.

I stand by the window of the second living room, jaw clenched, pretending not to watch every tremble of her lashes, every flicker of discomfort across her face. Maddie hovers nearby, wringing her hands. Cesare is in the living room pacing like a tiger. Dante’s pretending to read messages on his phone. Sofiya sharpens daggers with her eyes every time Rafa opens his mouth.

It’s a fucking family reunion in Ortigia.

And I’m seconds away from throwing half these people out the nearest window.

‘Her vitals have stabilised from this morning, which is good news,’ Dr Conti eventually murmurs. ‘Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be done. No lingering vertigo or headaches. She may join dinner, but keep her calm.’

I almost snort.

Calm?

In this goddamn house with these fucking animals I call blood?

As I herd everyone out of the room, the doctor gives me the tight, warning look he’s been perfecting since being dragged into my particular nightmare and steps aside.

I’m tempted to say fuck it and stay behind. Hold her hand. Place her in my lap where she belongs. Maybe⁠—

‘No.’ Cesare’s voice cuts through my dirty thoughts and, oh yes, I want to punch him too. The droll but steely look in his eyes tells me he knows this. Doesn’t give a flying fuck. ‘We need answers, Renzo. Before dinner.’

And here we go.

I inhale through my nose. ‘Sure. Ask away.’

Rafa folds his arms, shoulder pressed to Sofiya’s. ‘Start with why you fucked off to Sicily without a word instead of coming home. With Giada.’ He points a damning finger at me. ‘Especially when you knew sure as shit that we all needed to know?’

‘Vacation,’ I say blandly.

‘Vacation?’ Dante barks a laugh. ‘You showed up at a burned-down convent, wearing a sling and a fever, with a crew you won’t name. That your idea of vacation?’

Rafa lifts a brow. ‘Tell me, did you get lost on the way to Taormina? Or were you hoping some random priest might offer you a discount on spiritual cleansing?’

My eyes snap to him. ‘You done?’

Cesare steps forward. ‘Renzo. What exactly were you doing in that convent? And don’t play word games with me.’

The air shifts. Even Maddie looks over.