Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
"Yes," I manage to whisper through it. "Yes."
Chapter Eight
Domani
Finley and I spend the night at the cabin, making love into the late hours. Eventually, she passes out beside me, too exhausted to hold her eyes open any longer. I let her sleep for a few hours, but I don't. I walk the perimeter of the property, keeping my eyes peeled. Rafe would have had time to get someone to me by now, but if he's sent anyone, they don't show themselves.
I don't count on his mercy. If he can prevent a war and protect the family, he has to do what he has to do. But so do I. And whether he believes it or not, the only way that war doesn't find its way to his doorstep is by killing Cillian. Leaving him alive merely delays the inevitable.
I wake Finley at dawn. We leave the same way we came, with the sun barely cresting the horizon. But I don't head back to Chicago. At least not right away. We head southwest toward St. Louis. I want my ring on her finger before I go back to deal with her uncle.
I take backroads, avoiding the interstate in case Rafe has anyone posted up, looking for us.
Not even halfway there, Finley gets bored of looking at cornfields and cows. There isn't much else in this part of the state. She starts prowling through my shit.
"Jesus, Domani." Her brows climb higher with every weapon she discovers. "How many weapons do you have in this car?"
"Enough," I say grimly.
"How many is enough?"
"As many as it takes to get the job done, mio sole."
"How many people have you killed?"
"More than you're prepared to hear."
"Ten? Fifteen?"
"It's more than that, tesoro."
"A lot more?"
I nod.
"Five hundred?"
I cut my eyes at her, which makes her laugh. She's fucking with me. That surprises me. "You're not horrified by who I am, are you?"
"No," she whispers, sobering. "I understand you. Maybe better than I'd like to admit. If you're a monster, I'm a monster too. You think I wouldn't do the same thing to people like my uncle if I could get away with it? The people he's hurt don't haunt him. They haunt me. The people you've hurt don't haunt you, but the people they hurt? They haunt you. We're alike, Domani. In every way that matters, we're alike."
"Cristo," I mutter. She's so fucking intelligent, it's frightening. Most people aren't emotionally aware. They don't know what they're capable of because they aren't willing to face themselves. She knows because she's not afraid to look deep and examine even the darkest parts of herself. She doesn't run from them. She simply accepts them for what they are.
She knows that dark thoughts and violent delights don't make us monsters because she's faced true monsters. She's lived with evil. She's listened to the screams of its victims and smelled the burning flesh when their pleas fell on deaf, uncaring ears. Darkness balances light. One can't exist without the other. But evil? It's a bottomless pit of hopeless agony and despair. No light will ever burn it out. No good will ever balance it. It exists only to kill and consume. And in the end, to destroy.
We ride in silence for several miles before she grows bored again.
"What are you doing?" I ask, eyeing her warily as she unlatches her seatbelt and climbs to her knees in her seat, a look on her face that I've gotten to know well. She's up to something that's going to get her little ass in trouble.
"Trying something," she says, stretching across the console between us. Her hand lands on my cock.
"Fuck," I groan, slamming my head back against the seat.
"You can stop me if you want. But we both know you don't want." She palms me through my pants, smirking. She's right. I don't want. There's not a chance in hell that I'm telling her no right now.
She unzips my pants, delving her hot little hand inside to drag my cock out. I grit my teeth, trying to keep my eyes on the road instead of on what she's doing. I quickly set cruise control, figuring it's the safest way to keep me from crashing into a fucking tree when she's got her hands on my cock.
"Are you always hard, Domani?"
"When you're nearby? Yeah. Always."
This makes her smile. She wraps her fist around me, gliding it up and down.
"Tighter," I growl.
She squeezes, watching my face to see if she's got it right.
"Yeah, just like that."
She strokes me again. My hands are tight fists on the steering wheel, all of my attention focused on keeping the damn SUV on the road.
"Spit on it, Finley. Get it nice and wet."
"Nah. I think I'll do this instead." She flattens herself across the console, diving for my cock.
"Fuck!" I roar, the SUV swerving sharply as her hot little mouth closes around the head of my cock. I quickly course-correct, swerving back into our lane.