Page 97 of The Savage

‘That doesn’t make me feel better.’

‘It should.’

She shakes her head violently. ‘This is my mind. My life. My faith.’ Her voice cracks. ‘I don’t even know if I’m a monster, Renzo. A monster hiding in a convent under a habit.’

My jaw flexes.

‘You don’t get to say that about yourself. Not in my house. Not in my arms. Not after I’ve spent years bleeding on the idea of you. So come here,’ I order, low. ‘Now, angel.’

She doesn’t. Hell, I don’t think she even heard me.

So my voice drops into something darker, something that always makes men move and women go still with a shiver.

‘Giada, I said sit the fuck down and rest,’ I say quietly, ‘or I take you upstairs and fuck you into a coma. Your choice.’

Silence snaps through the room like a whip.

Giada freezes. Her eyes go huge.

Then her mouth opens on a protest – holy outrage, furious refusal⁠—

Except the way her throat works, the way her breath catches, the way her knees soften a fraction… betrays her.

She stalks towards me in three sharp steps and slams her palms into my chest. ‘Stop. Ordering. Me. Around.’

I blink, then laugh once, rough and disbelieving. ‘Upstairs it is,’ I breathe.

Her fingers climb up my nape and spike into my hair. Then she pulls. Hard.

‘Madonna,’ I murmur. ‘You’re going to be the death of me.’

Her chin lifts again, defiant to the last. ‘Then die.’ She trembles with rage and something far, far more dangerous.

‘Gladly.’

I sweep her up with my good arm before she can change her mind, before guilt can climb her spine and strangle her courage.

She makes a startled sound, gripping my shoulders.

I keep my hold firm, my mouth at her ear as I carry her towards the stairs.

‘You don’t get to run from me,’ I tell her softly. ‘Not when you’re breaking apart. Not when I’m right here holding you together.’

She swallows, eyes stinging bright. ‘Renzo…’

‘Shh.’ I kiss her temple. ‘Let me.’

Her breath shudders. Her hands tighten in my shirt.

And when I push open the bedroom door, I already know this isn’t just about sex.

It’s about drowning out the ghosts for a few hours.

It’s about choosing each other in the middle of ruin. Keeping her steady until the world comes crashing through our gates.

‘Tell me what you need,’ I murmur against her mouth.

Her eyes stay on mine. Raw. Brave. Shaking.