Nicoli: A Forbidden Romance (Dark Sovereign Book 4)

My bedroom door slams shut with a reverberating crash. I stand still for a moment, my hands shaking and knees trembling as the realization of what I just did hits me like a freight train. I can’t believe I did that. It was stupid and reckless…and stupid. And now my heart is nothing but fragments of agony.

The assault of emotion is instantaneous. An invisible weight crushes me, and I sink to the floor in an agonizing heap. I cover my face with my hands as if that could stop the raging waterfall of tears from falling. But it flows freely, rivers of tears mixed with searing pain that seems to seep deep into bone. My chest is being hacked with jagged-edged knives, claws digging their way deeper and deeper until it consumes me entirely. My mind is a jumbled mess as I try to make sense of everything that’s happening, but it all seems hopeless. Nothing makes sense anymore.

God, I don’t even make sense to me anymore.

I don’t know how long I sit with my back against the door. It could be minutes or hours; time loses meaning when you’re drowning. I should blame myself, but I don’t. Instead, I blame him, which is probably a selfish fucking thing because Nicoli never gave me any reason to think there’s more between us than family ties. I just always had a glimmer of hope in my heart that one day he’d wake up and realize he loves me. Now it’s nothing more than a young girl’s innocent dream that became a woman’s fantasy, and now turned into a nightmare.

I’ve always loved him. It was a love that grew from a little girl’s adoration to a young woman’s infatuation. I remember a time when we were inseparable, but that all changed abruptly. It was like we were close one day, and the next, he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I could never figure out why, but I always hung on to hope that a day would come when the universe would somehow bring us together.

Now that hope is gone.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, trying to compose myself. It’s no use, though. The pain gets worse with every beat of my heart, and I can hardly swallow a breath.

Stumbling to my feet, I strip down, dropping my clothes on the carpeted floor. I’m still crying as I walk to the bathroom and step into the shower. The burst of water is ice-cold, but I don’t even flinch. It slowly warms the longer I stand underneath it, water cascading down my face, my shoulders, my body. But I feel nothing. I can’t feel anything apart from this bone-crushing pain that seems to radiate from everywhere all at once. It’s raw and intense, thrumming like a live wire. I can taste the sorrow that crawls around me like a thousand flesh-eating insects. It’s bitter and heavy in my mouth, weighing down my tongue.

As the warmth finally reaches me, I start rubbing soap onto my skin, wanting nothing more than to be clean again. Clean from the nasty crud that clings to me. Clean of her. Clean of him. Not once did I feel this filthy after the sultry nights in Tuscany. My nights shared with Tommaso and Imelda were passionate and exquisite. Our hands and lips, bodies and breaths were intertwined with the mutual adoration and affection that fueled our every touch and kiss. I left them feeling like a goddess, desired and worshiped. Satiated and fulfilled. But this…this is different. I feel different. I feel dead. Broken. I’ve never felt this lost in my entire life. I’ve loved him for so long, and I don’t know who I am if I can’t love him.

“How could he do this to me?” I whimper, wiping water from my face, and my fingers hover over my lips. His kiss. Oh, God, his kiss. It was our first kiss, something I’ve wanted for so long. It was supposed to be beautiful, powerful, enraged with a passion that would explode on my tongue. That was the dream. But reality gave us a first kiss that lingers with echoes of cruelty, burning like acid, and now all I want is to wash it off my lips. I want it gone. I want him gone. But even as the suds slip down my body and swirl around the drain, they fail to cleanse away the stains of betrayal that cling to my skin like a curse. And no matter how hard I scrub, I can’t get him off me because he’s everywhere. His handprints are on my flesh. His eyes are in my head. His face is engraved into my heart. I can’t get rid of him because he owns my fucking soul.

“God, make it stop,” I plead, fresh tears pouring from my heart and down my cheeks. “Please make it stop!”

The water turns scalding hot, and the drops blast against me in violent bursts of a thousand needles. I don’t move even though it feels like my organs are melting away. It’s like someone has drained me of life and left behind a hollow shell. The vibrant world that existed outside now seems dull and meaningless. Everything that was once beautiful to me now only appears ugly and unforgiving.

“Please!” I scream, folding my shoulders into me as I clutch my chest as if I could keep my heart from breaking further. “Why do I have to love him? Make it stop!” It’s too much. The pain is overwhelming. I can’t bear it, and my knees go weak, the gravity of hell pulling me down.

Strong arms wrap around me from behind, and I immediately know it’s him by the way my soul comes alive under his touch.

“Fuck you!” I cry out in anguish, his touch like a branding iron against my skin. I buck and thrash against him in a desperate attempt to pull away. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!” My screams slam against the walls, my tears coming down hot and angry, but he doesn’t let go. The more I struggle, the tighter he holds me, trapping my naked body against him until I have no more strength left to fight him. Sobs tear from my chest, and all I can do is lean back and melt into his embrace, sink into his hold while my soul is ripped apart.

He pulls me deeper into him, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his lips soft and tender against my skin. But it hurts. It hurts so damn much I can hardly get enough air in my lungs to survive another minute.

“I’m sorry, Hummingbird,” he murmurs into my wet hair. “All I’ve ever wanted was to protect you. I swear to God.”

More sobs erupt, and I’m bleeding out in his arms. “I hate you,” I whimper. It’s a whispered lie and a desperate cry.

“I know.”

“I’ll never forgive you.”

His gentle kisses continue over my shoulder. “I know.”

I close my eyes and let myself feel for a moment, ignoring the familiar tingling sensation spreading through my body as his lips delicately caress my neck. Despite the hurt he’s caused me, despite the pain he’s made me feel, I will always crave him in ways no other man could ever match. My soul needs him; my heart loves him. And that’s what makes this so fucked-up, because I know that I will never love another man the way I love him. I would rather die alone than settle for second-best love.

My body shudders as I inhale deeply, leaning my head back against his shoulder. “I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love you,” I say, my mind a haze of crippling emotions that compel me to finally speak the truth. “It’s always been you…Nicoli.”

“Mirabella,” he whispers, and it’s barely audible with the sound of splashing water raining down on porcelain tiles.

I’m staring up at the water jetting from the chrome showerhead. “I’ve never tried not to love you. Even when you couldn’t give me the time of day, I still loved you.”

The sound of him breathing against my neck sends shivers down my spine, and without thinking, I turn to face him, his hands resting on my hips. I place my fingertips gently against the bullet wound scar on his chest, and he makes this hissing sound as if my touch burns him. “That night when Maximo came to my room, saying your uncle had shot you…I don’t remember a time that I’ve ever been so scared in my life. I kept on saying, ‘he can’t die, he can’t die.’ I was at the brink of hysteria just thinking about waking up in a world where you don’t exist.” My gaze lifts to his. “That night, I told my brother that I was in love with you. You know what he said to me?”

Nicoli remains still. Silent. Pensive.

“He told me that he knew. That everyone knew. I wanted to ask him if you knew, but Alexius came storming in saying you were in the clear. And I was so relieved…so incredibly thankful, I vowed to tell you my truth the moment you woke up.” I scoff, removing my hand from his chest. “But when you opened your eyes, you looked right at me, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say it.” I lift my shoulders in defeat. “So, I’m saying it now.”

“Mira, don’t.”

“I love you, Nicoli Del Rossa.”

“Goddammit,” he bites out, and I can hear the pain in his voice, because I feel it. I feel it everywhere.

With his palm, he wipes his dark, wet hair from his face, blue eyes gleaming like broken crystal, the water streaming down every curve of his naked chest, his pants hanging loose around his hips. He looks a mess. A perfect mess.

“I fucking love you,” I repeat, this time with more conviction. “A world where I don’t love you will never exist. And as long as I fucking breathe, I will continue to love you. Always.”

I reach out, cup his cheek, and my heart constricts as he leans into my touch, placing his palm over my hand. I can’t control it. It’s a compulsion, almost as natural as breathing, an invisible force that has me leaning into him. I close my eyes, lifting my weight on the balls of my feet, pressing my lips against his. He inhales sharply through his nose as if my tender kiss knocked the air from his lungs. His whole body goes rigid against mine, his shoulders shaking as if my lips are poison to his system. I let my tongue touch his, and a spark ignites, his lips parting as he gasps loudly, echoing his need that’s so profound it vibrates off him in waves. It’s so strong it physically aches to feel it seep through to the marrow of my bones.

My heart thumps wildly as my fingers tangle in his hair, desperate to deepen the kiss, my tongue touching his, the final act that makes him come undone. His hands snake around my waist, crushing me against his hard body, and he moans into my mouth, a sound that echoes his thirst to drink me in. I’m entranced, swept up by the moment, clinging to him as I feel his arousal against my hip. But this is so much more than just desire. It surpasses lust. It’s a journey to pure, raw emotion, our lips conveying a deep, sensual understanding that words can’t. And I can hear it loud and clear, the truth echoing in my heart like the howling wind through a storm.

He loves me. It’s written in how his lips move against mine. It’s in the taste of desperation that burns on our dancing tongues.

Nicoli loves me.

Then why did he have to ruin me?

I stand there, lost in a kiss that should have been our first, and agony bleeds into me. It’s debilitating, so strong that something inside me snaps. A small ember kindles and grows into a fiery rage—an anger so intense it melts away the pain, replacing it with an icy coldness that spreads through my bones. I breathe out as the hardness consumes me, and I sever our kiss, tearing my lips from his.

“Mira, don’t,” he pleads, his voice a low thrum of anguish. He tries to keep me against him, tightening his arms as if he’s desperate to hold on to the moment…to me. But it fucking hurts. I’m already in pieces. I have to save myself from him—at least what’s left of me, if there is any…

With all my strength, I dig my fingers into his arms, unlocking the hold he has around my waist.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I love you,” I whisper, finally able to pull away. “But I will never let you love me back.”

“Mira, please—” He tries to reach for me, but I step away.

Our eyes lock, and it’s just pain. It’s all there is between us. “I would say it’s over, but it never started,” I say as I grab a towel and walk backward. “And it never will.”

With that, I turn my back on him, the final curtain drawn on something that never was. Walking away from him tears me apart, my broken heart leaving trails of blood behind my footsteps.

It’ll always hurt loving him, whether we’re together or apart. But, at least apart, he can’t add more hurt to an already paralyzing pain I’ll never get over.

Ever.

Nicoli

I spent my life trying to protect her. But nothing could protect her from me. I’ve ruined her, stained everything pure in her soul. She’s jaded and broken because of me—because I couldn’t stop myself…from falling in love with her.