God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

I was allowed a very quick shower before a nurse tended to my wounds.

I sit on the side of the hospital bed, and clench my jaw while I watch as Damiano talks with a doctor.

I just want to be alone with my husband.

Somehow, I manage to keep my expression neutral as I struggle to keep all my emotions from spiraling out of control.

Finally, the nurse leaves, and I slip off the bed. Even though my feet are raw and ache from running barefoot through the damn woods, I walk to the window and pull the blinds shut.

“I’ll take her home first thing tomorrow morning,” I hear Damiano tell the doctor while I gingerly move back to the bed.

I brace my right hand on the white sheets and suck in a desperate breath of air.

I hear the door shut, and I glance at Damiano to make sure we’re alone.

I suck in another breath of air, then all the trauma I’ve been forced to endure shudders through my body.

Damiano moves closer to me, and when his fingers wrap around the back of my neck, I can’t keep the sobs back any longer.

The floodgates open, and every degrading moment, the pain, the cold, the fear – it all creates a chaotic mess in my chest, forcing a broken cry over my lips.

Damiano gently pulls me into his arms, and he tries to avoid the burns on my back as he holds me to his chest.

I smell his familiar scent.

I feel the heat from his body.

And finally able to let go of being strong, I break in his arms.

“I’ve got you, amore mia,” the words rumble from him.

I bring my hand up and clutch his shirt in a fist as I struggle to breathe through the sobs.

He just holds me, giving me a safe place to cry over what was done to me.

They didn’t break you. After everything you were forced to endure, you’re stronger.

Damiano presses a kiss to my temple, then murmurs, “I’m here, my little spitfire. You’re safe.”

Once I manage to calm down, I whisper, “I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

He pulls a little back and tilts his head so he can meet my eyes. Using his thumbs to brush the tears off my cheeks, he says, “I’ll always come for you.”

Seeing the blood splatters on his face and neck, I take his hand and pull him toward the bathroom. I find a washcloth and wet it beneath the spray.

When I bring it to his neck and start to clean the blood off him, he mutters, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll shower while you’re resting.”

“Let me do this,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from crying.

Once every last drop of blood has been wiped from his skin, I toss the cloth into the sink.

With my head bowed, I ask, “Did Aunt Greta make it?”

Damiano lets out a slow breath. “No.”

Dio.

My hands fly up to cover my face as intense grief seizes my heart in a relentless grip.

No.

Damiano pulls me back to his chest as a heavy blanket of sorrow falls over my shoulders.

Unable to accept she’s gone, I choke the words out, “No. Dio. Not Aunt Greta.”

She was so full of life and love.

How am I supposed to process that the first person to hug me, to show me any kind of love, is gone?

We’ll never feel her warmth again. We’ll never hear her laughter.

“We lost Gerardo and Martha as well,” Damiano says.

I start to cry again, the losses we’ve suffered too much to bear.

Damiano gently picks me up, and carrying me back into the room, he sits down on an armchair.

His arm brushes over the burns on my back, making me flinch.

“Straddle me,” he orders.

I do as I’m told, and pressing my face to his chest, I mourn the loss of the people I got to love for such a short while.

“Shh, amore mia,” he whispers. “I’m here.”

I feel feverish when the tears stop, and I just lie still against his chest.

This is the world we live in. We’ll love, and we’ll lose.

Somehow, I manage to dose on and off for a while.

The door opens, and I hear Carlo say, “I brought you some clothes from the house in Manhattan.”

“Thanks,” Damiano murmurs. “Have Emilio come to the clinic so you can get some rest.”

I glance over my shoulder and see Carlo shake his head. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right outside the room.”

“Carlo,” I say as he starts to turn around. When he looks at me, I continue, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He nods before pulling the door shut behind him as he leaves.

“Want to move to the bed so you can sleep while I shower?” Damiano asks.

I nod and climb off his lap. He picks up the bag Carlo brought, and when I follow him to the bathroom, he gives me a questioning look.

“I just want to brush my teeth.”

Damiano sets the bag down on the closed toilet lid and digs out a toothbrush and toothpaste for me.

I take it from him, and while I clean my teeth, he switches on the faucets in the shower.

I watch as he strips out of his clothes before I rinse my mouth. Checking the bag, I’m surprised to see Carlo packed a satin robe for me. I quickly take off the hospital gown before putting on my robe. I don’t find any underwear but refuse to put on the weird-looking granny panties of the hospital.

Feeling a little better with my own robe on, my eyes scour Damiano’s body, and when I’m sure he hasn’t been hurt in any way, I walk back to the bed and sit down on the side of the mattress.

I listen to Damiano moving in the bathroom while I stare at the red abrasions around my wrists.

I’m so lucky Damiano got to me in time.

I’ve survived so much in my life, and it’s the reason I don’t take anything for granted.

But this is the closest I’ve come to dying.

They could’ve done so much worse to me.

I send up a thankful prayer that I wasn’t raped.

Once Damiano’s finished in the bathroom, he comes back into the room, his eyes instantly locking on me.

“You’re not going to sleep?”

“I can’t lie on my back or right side,” I say. “Can I sleep on your lap?”

“Of course, amore mia.”

I wait for him to sit down on the armchair before I climb on top of him again. Straddling him, I pull my arms up between us and rest my cheek against his chest.

I lie still for a little while before lifting my head and asking, “Can you remove your shirt?”

Damiano tugs the fabric over his head, and when I open my robe, he mutters, “You’re in no condition to have sex.”

“I just want to be as close to you as possible.” I lean against him again, and when the heat from his skin soaks into my chest, I let out a sigh.

Much better.

I press a kiss to his chest and take a deep breath of his clean, woodsy scent.

I feel Damiano’s cock harden beneath me, then his hands settle on my hips, and he lets out a sigh.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I can feel the heat of your pussy through the sweatpants,” he grumbles.

I move a little back, and reaching down, I push down the fabric of his pants to free his cock.

“What are you doing?” The words rumble from him.

I position him at my entrance and slowly sink down on his cock. When he’s buried to the hilt inside me, I say, “I just want to feel you everywhere.”

“You’re warming my cock, mia regina?”

“Hmm…” I relax against his chest. “Warming my pussy. It was so cold without you.”

Damiano places a hand behind my head and presses a kiss to my hair.

He doesn’t try to fuck me, but instead, lets out a satisfied groan as he relaxes beneath me. “I can get used to sleeping like this.”

The corner of my mouth lifts slightly. “Me too.”

The heat from Damiano’s body chases the chill from mine, and closing my eyes, I manage to drift off to sleep.