Fire Bound

  Still, for all that, he wanted no other woman. There was only the real woman - Giacinta Abbracciabene - in his mind. In his soul. Somehow, she had crawled in where no one else had ever been. She'd slipped past his guard and was firmly entrenched. She was his choice. He gave her his heart completely. Utterly. Absolutely. His loyalty to his brothers ran deep, a choice he'd made long ago, but his loyalty to her was all encompassing. There was no way to deny it. He couldn't fake that.

  Lissa didn't understand the connection between them. Why he would want her. Why she would be his choice so completely. How he knew and accepted the fact. But she couldn't deny the connection, nor could she deny the way she felt about him. Maybe it all happened too fast, but she didn't care. She'd wanted him before the mess she was in, now she wanted him even more. Someone in her life had to be real. He saw her. He thought her extraordinary. He accepted the real Giacinta.

  He'd made himself completely vulnerable to her so she refused to do less. She gave him - her. Everything she was. He was her choice. She had made that decision when she gave him her body. This was different. This was more. She made the choice to give him her heart and soul. Her loyalty. All of it. No matter how little time they had, or how much, she wouldn't take that back.

  She let him see her childhood. Luigi had been cold at first, unable to even kiss her or comfort her, but she'd put that down to the awkwardness of a man who didn't have children or a family. His affection came over time, slow and distant, occasional hugs, with Lissa always initiating contact. She had thought she was teaching him how to show affection.

  She gave him everything. The terrible loneliness. The guilt that she couldn't find all those who had participated in killing her family. The love she had for her chosen sisters. The fear when Luigi sent her away to the United States. The careful planning of each target and her reaction after. Casimir walked away coolly, the job done. She spent hours throwing up in the bathroom. Still, her determination to bring the killers to justice was every bit as strong as his resolve to do his job to the best of his ability - and stay alive.

  She gave him how she felt about him. The chemistry. The exhilaration of feeling such an attraction to him. Of having him recognize and see her. The emotions burning inside of her, fiery hot, passionate, blazing with hunger for him. Just him. Fear that it wasn't real. Fear that like everyone else in her life, he would disappear. Fear that her sisters would find out who she was and think her a monster.

  Casimir closed his eyes and let himself relax for the first time since he'd realized her uncle had to be behind the killing of her family. Lissa accepted him as he was. The real Casimir Prakenskii with his unredeemable sins. She saw into him and still had that fiery craving for him. His woman. She would take the bad with the good.

  He lifted her palm to his mouth and kissed the faded mark very gently. He was a man forged in hell. There shouldn't have been gentleness or tenderness. The fire in him alone should have precluded those emotions, yet with Lissa, they were his first emotions. He was already an addict when it came to her. The craving for getting as close to her as possible, for her taste, for her body. It was all there, but wrapped up in his deeper emotions.

  She leaned into him, still holding his palm, her thumb pressed there. Her long lashes fluttered. He loved her lashes. Thick. Red gold. Feathery and turned up, surrounding deep blue, very vibrant eyes. Her hair fell around her like a curtain of fire. "Thank you for being here. I would never have suspected him and in the end, he would have killed me. You saved me." In more ways than one.

  He heard the echo of her thought just as if she'd spoken aloud to him. He was very aware of the legacy in his family, the ability to talk to each other telepathically once they were connected by that psychic thread. He hadn't realized just how intimate that would be, her voice whispering in his mind, touching him inside, driving away every vestige of loneliness.

  That soft whisper brought his body to life, his cock stirring hungrily. He lifted her off his lap and tucked her under the covers. She was exhausted mentally, emotionally and physically. "You need sleep, golubushka."

  She shook her head, not lifting it from the pillow. "I can't sleep here. He can't know about us. He'd come after you, Casimir. You know I'm right."

  "I know I have to keep you safe. I want you with me, so there's no chance he tries to arrange an accident early. I'll watch over you, let you sleep a couple of hours, and then I want you again. After that, you can slip back into your room and we'll get ready for the day. You'll have to insist on Tomasso being with you, not Arturo. Find a reason."

  Casimir slid down in the bed, curling his body around hers, hooking her around the waist and pulling her into him until she was partially under him. He waited for her to relax, to melt into him in the way she did when she accepted him. It took a little longer than he expected and he found himself smiling. Lissa wasn't a woman to blindly obey. She would think out every decision for herself. He knew he was a controlling man, but he liked that she wasn't a woman to be controlled. It would make for fireworks, occasionally, but he could live with that.

  She fell asleep fast, drifting off with a small sigh, leaving him wrapped around her, indulging himself by letting his fingers caress her skin just below her breasts, occasionally brushing the undersides just because they were so soft and he could. Her hair smelled wonderful, a faint, almost elusive scent he knew he would never grow tired of.

  First, before any of the others, they had to get to the dog handler. He had a few questions for the man. He wanted absolute confirmation before they proceeded with any plans. He was positive he was right and Luigi Abbracciabene was a treacherous snake of the worst kind, but he wanted proof for Lissa. He would get that proof for her - for both of them. If they were correct and Luigi was guilty, then while she reported her successful removing of Cosmos Agosto, he was going to take care of Arturo. He didn't want to be nice about it either. With Luigi being Lissa's alibi when Arturo died, her uncle wouldn't suspect her of making a move against him.

  Lissa moved, her body pulling in on itself, knees curling, drawing up so that she was in the fetal position. He tightened his hold possessively. She made a soft sound of distress in her sleep.

  "Shh, lyubov moya, you're safe. I've got you. You're safe with me." He stroked caresses down the back of her head in an effort to soothe her.

  Another small sound escaped and with a sinking heart, he realized she was weeping in her sleep. That tore him up. He lay there in the dark, holding her close, whispering to her in Russian, tempted to sing her a Russian lullaby, and all the while he planned out Luigi's death. If he'd ever once thought to prolong a death, or torture someone, it would have been Luigi.

  "You're breaking my heart, Giacinta," he whispered against her ear. "You have to stop." He was growing desperate. He wasn't a man who felt desperate, and yet, there it was, she was turning him inside out.

  He cupped her breast, his thumb sliding gently over her nipple while he nudged the thick mass of hair from the nape of her neck so he could kiss his way across that tempting strip of skin. The soft weeping continued, but she turned from her side to her back so he could make out the distress on her face. The deep sense of betrayal. Grief for her lost family. She'd accepted the fact that her uncle had been the man behind the murders of her family. She knew Luigi had spared her in order to shape her into a weapon to use to further his cause. She also knew he had no choice but to kill her when the last obstacle in his path to become head of both families was removed.

  Casimir wanted to weep along with her. That kind of treachery was beyond measure - beyond comprehension. He found it took all of his discipline, every bit of his control, not to stalk downstairs and put a bullet in the man's head. Instead he bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. Her face was tear-wet.

  "Giacinta. Lyubov moya, open your eyes for me."

  The terrible emptiness swallowing her whole receded just a little, pushed aside by the velvet caressing voice breaking into her endless loop of a nightmare. Lissa wanted to
reach for the voice, but she couldn't seem to move, couldn't break free, not when she was so broken, pieces of her scattered on the ground all around her. Luigi had done that. Her beloved uncle.

  She had worried about him for so long. Every time she came to see him, he had to spend time alone in the wing of his house suffering with his bout of multiple sclerosis. Now she knew: while she worried, he spent time with his wife and family so he would have an alibi when she took down another member of the Porcelli family. He'd left her with nothing at all.

  "Come on, malyshka, look at me. I'm right here. Nothing can get to you. They'll have to walk through me to do it. Open your eyes. Come back to me."

  That voice. Mesmerizing. Hypnotic. Impossible to ignore. Rough and sexy. Pitched low so that the sound sank through skin to her bones, branding her. Forcing out the nightmare - only it wasn't a terrible dream. Betrayal and treachery were realities in her life. If she opened her eyes, even for him, for Casimir, she would have to face those things. She would have to admit defeat, that her uncle had won. He'd broken her when not even the deaths of her parents had done that.

  "Giacinta." The voice changed tone. Commanding. No longer coaxing. "You have to look at me."

  She didn't want to obey. He would see she was an empty shell, that Luigi had managed to destroy her. Still, there was no way to ignore that tone. Lissa lifted her lashes, her heart so heavy she feared it was a stone in her chest. She felt him there. Casimir Prakenskii. Her rock when the world had shifted out from under her so hard and fast. A deep chasm had opened under her feet, threatening to drag her under, drowning her, and there he was.

  She stared up at his face. Strong. Masculine. Cut beautifully, like a Greek sculpture, every line perfect. Strong jaw. That hint of a dark shadow. Long lashes. Glittering eyes so mercurial they stole her breath. His mouth drew her attention, his lips sinful, a wicked promise of pleasure she knew he was more than capable of keeping. Mostly, she saw strength in him.

  He was beautiful. Gorgeous. He smiled at her, a gentle smile, a flash of his white teeth, his eyes drifting possessively over her face, taking in everything, assessing her emotions. Watchful. Caring.

  "Golubushka. Little dove." He whispered the endearment softly.

  Her heart turned over. A sound escaped, a low, keening whisper of loss. She reached up to touch him. To find him solid, not a dream. She needed reality in a sea of uncertainty, and he was there. His bare chest was pure, defined muscle. His arms rippled with muscles. So strong, not just physically, but in every way.

  "I'm lost, Casimir," she whispered. Telling him the truth. Giving him her greatest vulnerability. She'd never felt so lost in her life.

  She kept her gaze fixed on him. Casimir, the man who would see her through this terrible blow. The loss of her last living blood relation, a man she'd loved most of her life. She'd clung to him, believed in him, and deep inside, she felt shattered.

  "You can't be lost, Giacinta, not as long as you're with me. I'll always find our way. Just hold on to me. We'll get through this together."

  She didn't think that was true. She had always considered herself strong. She'd worked hard to make herself that way. She'd never felt like this. Not even when she'd been a grief-stricken child. She'd had a purpose then. She knew who she was. She was proud of that person. Now, she didn't know anything.

  "He shattered me, Casimir," she confessed. "I'm so broken. Into a million pieces. I can't think what to do." To her horror, she heard the tears in her voice. She wasn't weak. Yet now, when she needed to be strong more than any other time, when it was necessary to be decisive and take charge, two of her greatest strengths, she was falling apart.

  "You aren't, malyshka, you aren't broken. Luigi Abbracciabene could never break you. Never. He knocked you down. Hard. It was a hit, Giacinta, a blow that put you down, but you're going to get back up. That's what you do - what you've always done - and it's what you'll do this time."

  She drew in her breath as Casimir bent his head and brushed his mouth over each eye, taking the burn away. He left a trail of kisses along her high cheekbones, sipping at the wet streaks, replacing the tears with tiny darts of fire. That fire seemed to find its way into her veins, warming her when she was so cold.

  "I still feel so lost and alone, Casimir. He did that to me. Took everything, the foundation of my life, right out from under me. He made me afraid. I haven't been afraid since that horrible day when the dogs took us down."

  Casimir's heart turned over. Her eyes, so vivid, as blue as the deepest sea, looked up at him with trepidation, with that lost, forlorn look he could barely stand to see in her. So vulnerable. So alone when she wasn't. She needed to see him standing beside her. He'd hold her up, support her in any way he could because she would always be his choice. "You aren't alone now, lyubov moya. You're safe here. It's okay to feel broken. Even if you were in a million pieces, I'd find every one and put you back together again."

  He was so beautiful. A rock. She felt steadier just looking at him. His voice was pitched low, but he spoke with absolute conviction and she found herself believing him. Believing that she wasn't as broken as she felt inside. Luigi had knocked her down, but she wasn't out. She would never be out. "He did this thing. I know that he did."

  He nodded his head slowly. She didn't flinch away from the truth this time. A part of her had held out hope when they were talking earlier, but she'd thought about everything, every little detail of childhood, growing up in Luigi's home. Pieces of the puzzle she hadn't ever known were missing fell into place. She knew, as she was falling to sleep, that Luigi had committed treachery far beyond what she could ever have conceived of. She would get proof before she made her move, but she knew, beyond all doubt, that he was guilty.

  She reached up with an unsteady hand to rub her palm along Casimir's stubborn jaw, feeling the dark shadow bristling against his mark on her. The spikes rasped over her body, along her skin. There was compassion in his eyes. Tenderness. Heat. But he knew the truth too. He wasn't going to lie to her. He knew Luigi had orchestrated the hit on his brother and family.

  "Kiss me, Casimir," she whispered. "I need you to kiss me."

  He didn't hesitate. His hand framed her face and his mouth took hers. Gentle. Coaxing. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue to sweep inside and tangle with hers. His mouth was pure fire. She wanted to stay there. Burn there. Let the flames sweep through her, consuming every ugly detail of her life.

  She tasted love for the first time in her life. She didn't know if he knew it or not, but it was there, mixed with hunger. With lust. With need. Love tasted different. Tender. Beautiful. She needed that now more than any other time in her life.

  She had to blink away tears all over again. She had never thought to taste that emotion. Certainly not now in her darkest moment. She kissed him back, melting, feeling the fire in her grow, losing herself in his mouth so she wouldn't have to think anymore. She didn't want to think, only feel. Still, having him was terrifying. What if he left her too? What if she had him - like this - and then he took himself away? She wouldn't recover. Lissa pressed back into the pillows, her heart beating wildly, fear shaking her.

  Casimir lifted his head a scant couple of inches, his gaze drifting possessively over her face. For the first time he saw how young she was. She was self-possessed. Disciplined. She had never felt young to him, but now, with her world upside down, he saw her so clearly. She had every reason to be terrified - and yet none at all. He wasn't going anywhere. Not. Ever.

  He brushed a kiss over her lips, those beautiful, soft, full lips, more tempting than anything he'd known in his life. He blazed a trail of fire down to the pulse beating in her throat. That sweet spot allowed him to know she was breathing. She was alive. No one had taken her from him. He kissed that pulse-point, feeling her heart pounding beneath his mouth. His tongue. Her skin tasted like paradise.

  He kissed his way along her collarbone. She was a woman of steel, her spine as tough and even stronger than most men's, but right then h
e could feel how delicate she was, how fragile her bones were. He took his time, finding his way over the lush curve of her breasts to the valley between them. He buried his face there, inhaling. Tasting. His shadow rasped against her soft breasts. He felt her answering shiver.

  Lissa's hands went to his shoulders as if she might push him away. There was tension in her as she trembled beneath him.

  "What are you doing?" she whispered.

  "Memorizing you. Loving you," he answered against her tight little bud of a nipple. His tongue swiped gently. "With every breath I take, Giacinta, I'm loving you." She deserved gentle. Tender. She needed gentle and tender. She was afraid of it, afraid of trusting it, but she needed it now more than the fire burning through both of them.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer under him as he took the lush mound deep into his mouth, flattening her nipple onto the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Her breath hissed out of her and her legs moved restlessly.

  His shadowed jaw rubbing roughly against her sensitive skin enhanced the stimulation of his mouth and tongue. He added his teeth - gently. Just a small nip but she reacted, gasping, her hips bucking.

  "Easy, malyshka, you need gentle tonight. I'm going to make absolutely certain you know you're loved." He murmured the vow against her breasts, nipping again and then slowly beginning his journey down her body. He wanted to claim every inch of her. To love every inch. She didn't know how much she needed gentle, but he did, and she was going to get it.