Page 81 of Devoted
Waking up alone and traumatized was definitely not the way to start the day.
What the fuck did I just see?
Surely not an eight-foot-tall skeletal male with blue-gray skin barely covering ivory bone, a face carved of cruelty and night, obsidian eyes that devoured, and a tooth-lined smile that turned my blood to ice.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wish that figment of my imagination out of existence.
Somehow, my sexy dream turned into a nightmare, as some dreams do, and I shouldn’t entertain my wild imaginings as anything but what they were.
Illusions.
Fantasies.
Hallucinations.
I got out of bed, splashed cold water on my face, pulled on clean clothes, comfortable and loose and perfect for a summer spent lounging poolside. I frowned, turning sideways in the mirror. Pinched the extra roll around my stomach.
I hadn’t been training every day like I was used to. Hadn’t raced across a rooftop or an alleyway in weeks, and the lack of activity was catching up to me. That, plus Valeria’s cooking, which was… shit. Everything from yesterday came flooding back.
Valeria.
And Luca, kissing in the kitchen.
Gods. Now that was truly a fucking nightmare.
I slipped my feet in some slippers, and two seconds later, I stood outside his door, fist raised to knock, knuckles an inch from rapping. I pressed my ear to the wood instead, feeling like a freaking stalker.
I’d just open the door, but the last thing I wanted to witness—especially after last night’s clusterfuck—was my brother and my enemy in bed together. Not that Valeria was still my enemy, but it was the principle of the thing.
I mean, we’d just gotten over hating each other—okay, that might have been slightly one-sided—and she was jumping into bed with my brother. I pressed my ear hard enough against the door to make my eardrum bleed.
Nothing. No sounds, not even heavy breathing, thank the gods. I knocked. “Luca. Are you in there?”
“He’s in the kitchen, eatin'.” Dante strolled up, a knowing grin on his face. “I swear, that kid can consume more than the rest of us combined. We should take him to America, put him in one of those competitive eating contests.”
“He’s my twin.” I gave him a stern glare that should have had him shaking in his steel-toed boots. He just grinned. “Luca is hardly a kid.”
“Yeah, well…” My husband rolled his shoulders. “The nickname irritates him and amuses me, so I’ll keep using it.” He paused, the grin falling off his face. “Unless it really bothers you, and then I’ll stop.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is this sudden concern part of your personal growth campaign? I told you, I don’t need special handling.”
“This isn’t special handling, Emberline,” he explained with a patience I found inexplicably irritating. “This is me, asking if the nickname bothers you. If it does, I’ll stop.”
“No, it doesn’t really bother me,” I sighed. “It’s just… I’m not used to anyone respecting my feelings. Or even thinking about them, really.”
“Well, I’m trying to do better.” He laid his big, heavy hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the kitchen. “Let’s go see the kid so you can satisfy yourself he’s fine.”
“But he’s not fine, Dante.”
“No, he isn’t,” Dante agreed. “But he’s been through a lot this past week. Lived through shit most people don’t see in their entire lifetimes. It’s normal to not sleep. To see things in your dreams you’d rather forget. If I don’t see another one of those Drax again, it will be too soon.”
“I think it’s more than that.” I paused just before we reached the kitchen, where clanging pots and pans drifted out around the corner.
“This goes beyond exhaustion,” I whispered. “And while you’re right about Luca being baptized by fire, it’s not like him to hide from the world. Or sleep all day. I’m telling you, he’s acting strange.”
“And you spend a lot of time protecting him, tesoro,” he scolded gently.
“That’s because I’m his sister. Luca isn’t like us, Dante. I don’t want him to be like us. Luca is good, his heart is still pure, and I want my brother to stay just the way he is, with an unjaded view of the world.”
