Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Miguel cocked his head, stunned. [You’d do that? For me?] he eventually wrote, feeling the throb of his pulse in his throat.
Nero’s shoulders dropped, and he rolled back into his chair. “What do you think? How else would I talk to you? What do you think this is?”
Warmth flooded Miguel’s cold heart. Nero was right. After going through so much together, he would have followed Nero into a burning building, and he ought to start trusting that his lover would do the same for him.
He smirked despite the ache it caused, and passed Nero the next note. [Where’s my ring then?]
Nero frowned and chewed on his lip before placing his hand next to Miguel’s hip and leaning in until they were only inches apart. “You want a ring? I’ll tattoo one on your finger.”
So you can never take it off, did not need to be added out loud, because it hung in the air, warming Miguel’s heart.
But that did not mean he wouldn’t tease Nero—Mr. I’ll-never-settle-for-one-man—a bit more. [How will I then throw it in your face when we argue over doing the dishes?]
The tense expression on Nero’s face came undone as he chuckled and poked Miguel’s forehead. “That’s the good thing about it. You won’t be able to. And from now on, I’m gonna keep you on a short leash. You’re mine, and you’re going to stay at my heel. Is that clear? No more sneaking around behind my back.”
Nero’s request contradicted everything Miguel used to believe in. He’d spent most of his life in emotional isolation, and this chance of having someone to share his future with seemed like an impossible dream. Especially with Nero, who could have anyone he wanted.
And yet he was here, choosing a mutilated man.
As impossible as that seemed, when Miguel thought of the intimacy they’d shared, of all the conversations, and moments when mutual support tightened their bond, their love emerged as the most natural of results.
He’d never been more wrong than all the times he’d considered Nero shallow.
[I’m sorry. I should have discussed everything with you.] But then he remembered his first question and passed Nero the earlier piece of paper. [How did you find me?]
Nero’s face soured, and he exhaled, resting his elbows on his thighs as he hunched over in the chair. “I bugged your phone. That’s how I found you at the cemetery. And how I managed to follow you.”
Miguel squinted and him and slapped his arm with the ‘what the fuck?’ hopefully obvious in his expression, but he wrote [WTF] for good measure. He’d always worked on being not too animated and keeping his cool, but now that his voice had been taken, there would be a lot of nonverbal communication in his near future.
“Well, you would be dead twice over if I didn’t, because you don’t fucking value your own life!” Nero roared, shooting to his feet.
Miguel huffed at him and wrote, [Why did you bug me?!]
Nero swallowed, balling his hands into fists as he towered over Miguel, breathing through flared nostrils. “I didn’t trust you.”
Miguel’s anger turned it into sadness, and he deflated, letting his head drop to the pillow. [Even yesterday? You still didn’t trust me? I know I left, but with the best intentions. I would have never hurt you.]
Nero’s shoulders dropped, and he pushed his hands into his pockets, chewing on that for a second. “I—when you just left, I thought you wanted to exchange me for your sister,” he said in a whisper.
Miguel nodded with a deep sigh that made his mangled barely there tongue sting with pain. [Do you trust me now?]
“Yeah,” Nero said and sat on the edge of Miguel’s bed, placing his hand over his as the addictive green eyes met Miguel’s. “It’s my fault you’ve been hurt. I could have caught up and stopped you, but I was so bitter over you going off without telling me that I—” He swallowed, lowering his gaze. “I wanted to catch you in the act.”
Miguel squeezed Nero’s fingers even though the confession hurt. But that part of their life was over. They had each other now. They trusted each other now.
Nero stilled, as if the weight of guilt was becoming too much, so Miguel let go of his hand to write.
[I understand it’s hard for you to trust. The only sure thing in a cartel is that death will come sooner or later. But you’re not a Caiman anymore. We both made mistakes.]
Nero’s face twitched, then twisted, and he turned it away with a strangled inhale in a display of remorse that had Miguel fighting through pain to reach out and grab him. They both smelled of blood and disinfectant, but the need for closeness won, and Miguel exhaled when Nero’s short curls tickled the underside of his jaw. Holding him was the best pain relief.