Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

49 | Nina

"What are you doing?"

The thin, airy quality to my voice is striking in the suddenly quiet space. I wince as I bring my hands to my neck. His grip is unrelenting, and his fingers don't budge as I try to pry at them. The seconds tick by. 

"Luciano's gone," I choke out, confused. "We're alone."

His brows flutter in a small frown, showing that he hears me. He takes a shuddering inhale, flexing his fingers. I can't quite see his eyes in the dark, but the taught ridges of his face in the low light look particularly threatening. Panic begins to seep through my veins.

"Santo. Let go of me," I snap, frightened at the stillness of him.

He tightens his hold. My next breath comes in a choke. Then in a second, he breaks, falling back from me. I sit up carefully, breathing deeply. The back of my head is tender when I brush light fingers over it. My neck aches, but I don't think he held on long enough for it to bruise.

"What the fuck was that?" He wasn't acting with that. He just slammed me into the fucking floor.

"I don't... Nina? It's you?" His voice breaks, and his whole body quakes as he falls back into the wall. His eyes are wide and unfocused as they turn slowly to his hands, held out in front of him. They tremble like leaves in the wind.

"What is going on? It's me. I thought you knew that." I struggle to keep my voice steady, approaching him slowly. 

"I did, I do. I think—I think I might be going crazy," he whispers, his voice sounding so scared that I forget everything as I crawl closer and rest a soft hand on his knee. He jolts at the contact. 

I don't think I've ever seen so many conflicting emotions on one person's face before. The light bulb's been flickering, casting us dimly in its dying glow, so I can't tell which emotion wins out in the battle scene playing out across his features.

"Okay, well, I'm here. And you're not crazy. Can I touch you or are you going to do that again?"

He finally really looks at me, and his chest gives one broken heave. "What did I do—Nina, mio bellissimo angelo, cosa ho fatto? Come here, please. Let me see it." His fingers carefully run over the back of my head, his eyes misting over when I wince. "Fuck, I'm—"

"Santo, I'm okay." I push past the nagging voice in my head, knowing we need to focus. "I have a plan. We need to—"

He wrenches me closer, bringing me to his lap. His hands are tender as he runs them up my back, arms, shoulders, and down again. His lips light as a feather as he brushes them over my temple and along the place that's still slightly throbbing. And his moan drizzles into my mouth when I kiss him, pulling away after a few seconds. The look on his face is one of shock, bewilderment, fear, and a hundred other things. 

"I hope I'm still dreaming," he mumbles. "If not, I'd have approximately five people I need to kill for letting you come here."

I wince, and he closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall. "Talk," he says lowly. "And don't try and get up yet, because I'm not strong enough to grab you again. I just need to feel you for a little."

The relief of being in his arms makes the words spill from my lips quickly. After I'm finished, he's silent for a long time. He tightens his arms, pressing a burning kiss to my neck and pushing his head into that space for a few moments, before pulling back and bumping his forehead into mine.

"I'm going to kill all of them," he says. In the tsunami of new information to process, he's predictably focused on me risking my safety.

"The plan has worked so far," I whisper. "Now we just need to figure out a way to get you out of here, and somehow distract them so we can get on that helicopter."