You can run from the blood you shed, not the blood you share.
After suffering extensive nerve damage to his right hand, Luca knows he will never be whole again. Forgoing all additional medical treatment offered by the British Military, he is release...
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Manchester, England March, 2008 . . .
Her pupils shifted beneath her closed lids before her eyes finally fluttered open. She blinked once, twice, before her vision came into focus. The sheets were cool against her skin. They twisted around her body as she stretched. Her toes skimmed her lover's legs, tickling the fine hairs along his calf. He stirred, only a little, before settling in his slumber.
He was beautiful: dark hair, strong jaw, golden skin and concealed beneath those eyelids she knew were a pair of the loveliest eyes she'd ever seen. No wonder she hadn't been able to stay away. He was sweet temptation and there was not a bone in her body that could resist sampling the forbidden fruit.
Admittedly, she'd missed him terribly these last few weeks he'd returned to Sicily, especially on cold nights such as this. Before, she'd been forced to settle for blankets in the place of his embrace, but he was here now, and with him, warmth was in no short supply.
With an indolent sigh she sat up, the white linen tumbling to her waist, and froze. She felt her eyes widen to the size of those of a Bratz doll. The air rose up from within her lungs to choke her. Spluttering violently in a mad panic, she sunk her nails into her companion's pectoral.
Leo came awake with a start. Contrary to their sexual liaisons a mere few hours ago, there was nothing sexy about her action in this instance. He felt no lust or desire, just a blossoming pain as she wedged her French tips deep into his chest cavity. He grabbed her hand forcefully by the wrist. Heaving, he asked, "What is it?"
She could not answer him. Though she could feel his inquiring eyes boring into the side of her face, she could not meet them. Hers were glued to the kneeling form of another by the foot of her bed. Leo directed his gaze in the same direction and finally understood.
All at once he felt a heavy weight settle atop his body. Leo saw all the wrongs he had ever committed in his twentyseven years catch up and over-take him as he stumbled and floundered for something to say or do.
So today was to be his day of reckoning. A part of him said finally, the anticipation was over at last. The other, larger portion of his conscience, braced for impact as he whispered one mournful word into the silence, "Luca", his brother's name.
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Luca remained on his knees on the rough carpeting. His arse sat on his ankles, numbing out all feeling in his toes, and his hands laid open upon his thighs. The right one was tightly bandaged, and through the gauze wrapping he could almost make out the flecks of blood staining the material. His spine had curved inwards such that it seemed he'd been cut a large chunk of the sky to hold up all by his lonesome.
He did not move- could not, as it so happened. His limbs had forgotten how.
It was at this moment that he knew he had officially lost the fucking plot. This vivid nightmare must have been a byproduct of his PTSD, anxiety and insomnia. Afterall, he was no stranger to the wild hallucinations the mind could concoct when exerted, and with his triple threat of a head-fuck, his brain must have finally snapped. This could not be real. This was another one of his episodes, wasn't it? His brain was projecting his worst fear to the forefront of his mind. It would pass, surely!
