Chapter 12

TWELVE

Angelo

The motor boat approaches the shore by the time I make it to the beach. Roch's bald head shines in the sun. Sabella sits on the side, clinging to the ropes while the wind whips her hair around her face. She's wearing nothing but a one-piece swimsuit. It's fourteen degrees Celsius outside and the water is twelve degrees max. She must be freezing.

Not taking the time to remove my shoes, I half-run and half-slide down the dune. It's faster than taking the bridges via the island and swimming through the river. I thank any gods willing to listen not only for Roch's foresight to keep an inflatable boat in the cave but also for his navigational skills.

He reaches the break as I arrive at the bottom of the dune. My gut tightens. The surf is big today. It's high tide, plus a strong wind blows in from the sea. Roch keeps the boat parallel to the waves. When the swell lifts, he makes a ninety degree turn and rides it out. The wall of water curls, bends, and crashes around them, white foam bashing the boat.

Fuck.

Miraculously, the boat stays afloat.

Sprinting across the sand, I forget to breathe. All I see is a car racing toward a hairpin bend on a mountain road. All I feel is the impending doom of a crash. I'm knee-deep in the water before I register the icy pricks that assault my skin.

Roch repeats the maneuver, steering the boat between the waves before turning the nose head-on into the break. After what seems like forever, he makes it to the shallow water, diverts left to avoid some rocks, and launches the boat smoothly onto the sand.

I run like never before, scraping my shins against the sharp edges of abalone shells that cling to the rocks, but I hardly feel it. Roch cuts the engine. His soaked clothes are plastered to his body. He reaches for Sabella, trying to pull her to her feet.

Her hysterical words reach me over the deafening crash of the breakers. "Don't fucking touch me!"

Roch freezes with flaring nostrils and a clenched jaw. His baritone voice carries louder than hers. "The least you can do is thank me for saving your life."

"I told you to stay the hell away from me," she yells.

"Roch," I call in warning, a few steps away from the boat.

If he hears me, he doesn't react. "Fine," he shouts, shoving her with both palms on her shoulders as he continues at the top of his lungs, "Then get the hell out of my boat."

Sabella falls backward over the side and lands with her ass in the shallow water.

"I should've left you in the fucking water." Roch points a finger at her. "If that's where you want to be, be my guest and stay there."

Spluttering and gasping, she braces herself on her arms.

I hook my hands under her armpits when I reach her and hoist her to her feet. "Fuck, Sabella." Her skin is icy. She trembles like a flimsy sheet of paper in a violent storm. "Are you all right, cara?"

The question is automatic. Of course she's not all right.

Wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees, I lift her into my arms.

She tries to wrestle herself out of my hold. When I only tighten my grip, she fights like a wildcat. "Get off me."

Her teeth chatter so hard I barely make out what she says.

Roch jumps out of the boat and grabs the rope, his movements jerky and careless.

I carry Sabella out of the water and lower her to the ground. The moment her feet touch the sand, her legs fold under her. Fatigue and shock take over, stealing her fight. I strip off my jacket and hang it around her shoulders. She huddles under the fabric on the wet sand, looking wretched and exhausted and half-dead.

In two long strides, I'm next to Roch. My fist connects with his jaw before he sees it coming. The blow makes him stumble back a step. I land another punch in his stomach that makes him fold double.

Adrenaline born from rage and fear pumps through my veins. "Apologize," I snap.

Roch grimaces as he straightens. It takes him a moment to find his breath. "I'm sorry. I'm not myself." He works his jaw. "It's the scare. I didn't think she was going to make it. I thought I was too late."

His words put me on edge. I've lost too much. I'm not prepared to lose her as well. If I do, the deaths of everyone this war already claimed will be futile. I won't allow that. I won't allow my mother and Adeline's deaths to have been for nothing.

For good measure, I punch Roch again. He had a fright. So did I. It's no excuse for how he behaved.

Cold fury laces my tone. "Apologize to Sabella, not to me."

Roch turns to her, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you and said things I didn't mean." He lifts his gaze to me. "I've been on babysitting duty for two and a half years."

"You're relieved of it," I say, grinding my teeth.

"Angelo." He raises his hands. "Mr. Russo. Two and a half years without a break."

"Do not try to justify your actions." Each word is measured. "Get the fuck out of my sight before I kill you."

He ducks his head, pushes the boat back into the water, and jumps inside.

Sweeping Sabella into my arms, I hurry with her to the shelter of the cave. The engine of the boat sounds when I reach the rock enclosure, but I don't bother to look back. I sit, pulling her onto my lap.

"Get away from me," she says, trying to break out of the cage of my arms.

I rub her biceps through my jacket. "You need to get warm."

"What I need is for you to stop touching me," she screams, finally managing to scurry off my lap.

She lands on all fours, my jacket slipping off her shoulders. I reach for her ankle, but she claws her way like a crab through the sand to the other side of the cave and pushes her back against the wall. There, she sits shivering, watching me with a terrified expression.

"I'm not going to hurt you." I raise my hands in a placating gesture. "I already told you that."

She spits the word at me. "But?"

I make to move. "But you need to get warm."

She flattens herself against the rock. "Stay away from me."

"Sabella." Frustration rides on my words. "I want to help."

"Help?" She utters an ugly laugh. "Like you helped my dad?"

A sob racks her shoulders.

Using my most reasonable voice, I say, "You know why it had to be done." I don't want to mention my mother or my sister. I don't want those memories to cloud my judgment with anger. Not now. Not now that she needs me.

Her accusation bounces off the roof of the cave. "I can't even go to the police. You must be fucking ecstatic about that."

"I'm not ecstatic about anything."

I try to advance again, but she shakes her head so vehemently that wet tendrils of her hair stick to her cheeks.

My patience is running out. I make myself stern. "Be reasonable, Sabella."

"Reasonable?" She laughs again. "Why? Because you're so reasonable, you heartless, deceitful, murdering son of a bitch?"

I grit my teeth at the insults, but I let them slide. After all, I earned every name she called me. "You'll catch pneumonia."

Her upper lip curls. "Like you care."

"You know I do."

Her tone is biting. "Is that why you came to the hospital?" Then sarcastic as her volume rises again. "Because you cared? No, wait. It was only to shave me. You're a sick pervert."

"I wanted to see my mark." As if the thought alone is a magnet, my gaze is drawn to her lower body. "It healed nicely. Very pretty." And like the pervert she accused me of being, that thought makes me hard.

She picks up a handful of sand and throws it at my face. "Go fuck yourself."

My reflexes are good. I duck in time. "We've been through that, haven't we?"

"Are you getting off on this?" she asks, sparks shooting from her eyes. "Is that why you're tormenting me?"

"Tormenting you has never entered the equation." I add with warning, "Not yet, but if you keep this up, it may."

"Just—" She spears her fingers through her hair and cups her head. "Just stay away."

"I can never stay away from you."

She drops her hands and curls her fingers like claws into the sand. "What the hell else do you want from me? You've taken all my firsts. Everything. What else can you possibly want?"

The answer is simple. "You."

"Why?" she cries out. "What have I ever done to you?"

"Wanting you isn't a punishment, Sabella. We were always meant to be together."

Hatred darkens her eyes. "Here's a newsflash. We're enemies. I may not be able to give the police the names of my father's murderers because I just found out that he was a murderer too, but we will never be together." She emphasizes the last part, using the rock for support to straighten as she throws those words at my feet.

Now isn't the time to convince her of anything. It's an even worse time to inform her of her fate. What worries me the most, is, "Did you go that deep into the sea on purpose?" The question constricts my throat and twists my mind. "Did you plan on coming back?"

Her eyes flare. Her chuckle is mocking. "Do you think I'll drown myself over the likes of you?"

I watch her narrowly, noticing how cold she is, inside and out, how full of bitterness and hatred. "What would've happened if Roch weren't there?"

She shrugs, mocking me. "Who knows?"

I don't like it. I don't like her gambling attitude toward life. "Why did you do it? Why did you go so far?" I add in a quieter tone, "It wasn't the first time."

She clenches her hands at her sides. "I'm not a fucking quitter."

"No?" I tilt my head. "Then explain it to me."

"I don't owe you any explanations," she bites out.

That's it. I've had it. I lunge, grabbing her arm before she can escape. "Don't forget, cara, your life belongs to me. I have every right to demand an explanation."

Angry tears simmer in her eyes. "I regret the day I laid eyes on you."

"You don't have to," I say, rubbing my thumb in a soothing gesture over the soft skin of her wrist. "There was a time you liked me. With a little effort, we can go back to that."

"I never liked you," she utters with a sneer. "How could I? I didn't even know you. The person you pretended to be wasn't real."

"One day, you'll understand." Now isn't the moment to come clean about her father's broken promise.

"Oh, I understand." She yanks on my hold. "Perfectly."

"I can be that man for you again." I drag her closer, making our bodies collide. "All you have to do is ask me."

Her brown eyes narrow, and her lips thin. Contempt shows in every line of her features. "Hell will freeze over before I ask you for anything." She lifts her chin, holding my gaze with false bravado as she commands in a calm, controlled voice, "Now let me go."

I don't miss the effort it takes her to force that control or to pretend not to be scared. Her whole body is shaking with the effort. Uncertainty flickers behind the anger shimmering in her eyes. I take notice of other things too, of how her body fits against mine and how hard her nipples are from the cold.

Pushing her backward, I follow her down and catch her body to break her fall before she hits the sand. I'm on top of her in a wink, spreading out over the length of her, and nothing has ever felt so right. Finally, I can warm her. What I really want to do is possess her.

She fights me, slamming her fists into my ribs and clamping her teeth onto my shoulder. I don't stop her. I let her use me as the punching bag she needs to get this poison out of her system. I'm not restraining her. If she wants to, she can flip us over and punch me in the face, but she doesn't. Not that she's holding back. No, she tries to inflict damage to the best of her ability.

I let her carry on until she tires. When she sags onto the sand with a defeated sob, I catch her wrists and pin them above her head. The look in her eyes changes. It turns from uncontrolled fury to uncontrolled carnality. I can't tear my gaze away from the way she watches me like a female praying mantis about to mate a male before making a meal out of him.

What passes between us is simple physics. Energy can't be destroyed. It can only be transformed. All that anger fueling her now doesn't vanish. It simply changes into a different sentiment. I can take away her fury as little as I can change the law of energy. I can, however, offer her an escape, if only for a short while. She was my first, and she'll be my last. What we are isn't pretty, but we're meant to be together.

Dipping my head, I hold her gaze as I press my mouth on hers. She tastes cold and salty and wild. She bites. I let her. When I part her lips with mine, she doesn't resist. She meets the strokes of my tongue, getting tangled in my body and in our kiss. She's using me like I'm using her, groping blindly for a remedy to ease the pain. In our case, the medicine is lust.

I let go of her wrists, wanting her to make this choice. She does. She fists her hands in my hair and holds on. For better or worse. For whatever we can get. Even if the relief lasts for a fleeting moment. I'd rather she finds it here in a cave with me than on the bottom of the ocean.

My movements are jerky when I pull the straps of her swimsuit over her shoulders to expose her small, firm breasts. She pants with feverish breaths as I close my lips around a nipple and suck the icy, hard tip into the warmth of my mouth. She tastes good on my tongue. I take her deeper, unable to get enough. Then the other breast. The iciness of her skin melts underneath me. Heat burns between us, but I know from experience that nowhere does it burn hotter than between her thighs.

Making quick work of stripping off her swimsuit, I spread her legs. I'm eager. Hasty. I want to do this before the fog of grief and fury lifts enough for her to change her mind. I'm already unzipping as I kiss the soft spot between her legs. My mark looks perfect just above it. I'm aching to trace the outline of that picture with my tongue, but I don't want to call her attention to it. Not now. For now, I only want her to think about pleasure.

I dip my tongue inside, lapping her up. I'm on fire, but so is she. She arches her back when I suck. I tease enough to make her toss and moan without taking her over the edge. If she comes down from the high of a climax, she may push me away before I have a chance to get inside her. I lick and nip, making sure she's lubricated, but she doesn't need my help. She's soaking wet for me.

Freeing my cock, I guide it to her opening and part her with the crest. She cries out, wrapping her legs around me. I don't waste time. I surge forward, sliding deep. Five months. Five months since I had her, since I had relief. It's the sweetest torture, but I rock inside her instead of thrusting, making this last.

My girl isn't shy about showing me what she needs. She lifts her hips and takes me deeper. How hard her tight, hot pussy grips me almost makes me go out of my mind. I forget why we're here. Or that I should use a condom. Almost. I try to pull out, but she locks her ankles behind my ass and wraps her arms around my neck. When her inner muscles squeeze my cock, I lose my shit.

I pump into her like a madman. Making a soft sound of frustration, she pushes on my shoulders. I pin her to the sand with both my movements and the advantage of my weight, taking care not to crush her, because there's no way I'm letting her go. Until I understand what she wants.

When I let up, she pushes me over and straddles me. The sight of her sitting naked on my cock is so hot I forget to move. Her tanned body is toned. Sand sticks to her skin and her hair. Her breasts bounce gently as she takes over the rhythm, her pussy stretching to swallow my cock. I'm fixated by the sight. Mesmerized. When she wraps her fingers around the root of my cock, I nearly come then and there. It's hot and dirty. Sacred. Us. Our moment.

She leans back, keeping her weight on one arm, and moans. Finally snapping out of it, I let loose. Her cries of pleasure echo in the cave. We're crazed and desperate, but our movements are coordinated. We're doing this dance so well. Our bodies are locked together, hers naked and mine clothed.

I follow her lead, quickening my pace. It's impossible to hold back any longer. Not with five months in between. Taking advantage of her exposed position, I rub her clit. She goes over first, her hot, velvet pussy milking my cock as spasms contract her muscles. Her climax triggers mine. I palm her breasts, digging my fingers into the soft curves and holding on for life as I empty myself inside her. I'm delirious with pleasure, even when I'm done, dry-fucking her with a semi-hard cock.

Not willing it to end, I roll us over without pulling out and push her down on the sand with my body. Locking my hands around her wrists, I plant them next to her face and kiss her. This time, I'm not rushed. I want to explore the contours of her mouth. If I carry on kissing her, I'll grow hard again. I can stay inside her, and we can keep on fucking in this cave where the outside world doesn't have to exist. Just a little longer.

But reality is already seeping through the cracks. Turning her face to the side, she breaks the kiss. Even as I let her escape, I miss her taste. I pull back a little, giving her the distance she wants.

She looks at me with wide eyes and parted lips. "What have I done?"

I squeeze her wrists with a gentle warning. What we did is too sacred for regret. "The most natural thing in the world."

Just like that, the heat evaporates from her gaze. We never stopped being angry. We only used our anger differently. I see the exact moment the shame sets in.

"Let me up," she says, her voice shaky.

It goes against every grain of my being to let her go. Only the superhuman willpower I cultivated through the years allows me to unlock my fingers from her wrists. I sit up. We both look at where we're joined. Her cheeks flush when I pull out and stand on my knees. My seed leaks down her thighs. So dirty. So pretty. The sight sends a surge of possessive satisfaction through me.

Tucking my cock back into my pants, I say, "We didn't use protection." I don't tell her I have a condom in my wallet. I don't say that I should've stopped to fit it, because, even though I understand her objections, I don't want anything between us when I'm inside her. Not even a thin layer of rubber.

"It doesn't matter." Her voice is oddly flat. "My period is due any day. Actually, it's overdue. Nothing is going to happen."

I get off her, zip up, and offer her a hand.

She accepts my help, avoiding my gaze.

I pick up her swimsuit. "You can't put this back on. It's still wet. You'll freeze outside in the wind." I grab my jacket from the sand, dust it off, and hold it open. "Here."

Not arguing, she slides her arms into the sleeves and allows me to button it up.

"I can bring the car to the island," I say. "I'll grab some clothes for you on the way."

Hugging herself, she shakes her head. "I'll go back via the dune. It'll be quicker."

I motion at her attire. "You can't walk around your neighborhood like that."

"No." She pulls the jacket over her head without unbuttoning it. "You're right."

Snatching her swimsuit from my hand, she turns her back on me and pulls on the wet garment.

"Sabella."

"I don't know what came over me," she says, refusing to look at me. "Fucking the murderer of my?—"

"Stop it."

My harsh tone shuts her up. I make an effort to soften my voice. "Choose me. That's all that stands between you and happiness. You can have everything you ever wanted, everything you dreamed of. All you have to do is say yes."

She spins around. "Choose you?" She laughs, the sound cold and mocking. "How can I choose a man I hate?"

"To hate or not to hate, cara, can also be a choice."

Observing me with a too perceptive gaze, she says, "Tell me you don't hate me, not even a little, for what my family did to yours."

I clench my jaw. I can lie, but I don't want to. Not to her. Not about us.

Her smile is victorious. "That's what I thought."

When she makes to turn, I catch her wrist. "Choose me now, cara, while you can." My words hold a warning. "Because there will come a day that you won't have a choice any longer."

"Never," she says, jerking free from my hold and walking like a queen with her head held high from the cave as if we didn't just fuck like animals.