Page 112 of Fratelli: Eternal Bloodlines

Darlene’s eyes narrowed. “He who?”

Never mind that. We have business to discuss.

He waved his hand, and the fabric of reality tore apart in front of her. A vision shimmered into existence—a black-and-white projection like the kind you would see in an old-time picture show—presented her past and future. She saw the child, Domencio, struggle under the captivity of his dragon, and then herself, younger, rising to fight the beast. The images shifted, showing the adult version of Domencio sweep in and save her from the fire, and then the scene morphed again to the present. She saw him in tears. He apologized to Lucio. He begged for forgiveness. And then, alone, in a dark room deep within a castle, Domencio sat with his face in his hands, weeping.

He suffers,Papa Legba whispered.His father did this to him. Vittorio. He’s the true evil. I know you think your sister and you are now fated to Lucio. But is that true. You are Darlene. You have your own soul. A mate who could love you and only you is what you deserve. If you want, take them both. But my guess is you want your own love, life, freedom. You can be the shadow, or you can be the chosen as you were destined to be. Save Domencio, child. Heal him. Avenge Lucio. End the vampire prophecy before it starts.

Darlene saw Domencio’s pain, and something in her longed to comfort him, tobethe one who saved him. Not Dolly, not anyone else—her.

“What do you want in return?” Darlene asked, her resolve to be strong wavered.

Papa Legba smiled wide.Your soul. It’s a simple bargain. Take the road, kill Vittorio, and Domencio will be yours. Dolly can have Lucio. Or you can have them both. Rise to the occasion and be what you were born to be.

Darlene hesitated; the temptation gnawed at her. She could end the war, stop the suffering. She and Dolly could be their own people. Lucio would be free. Domencio could be hers, truly hers. They would all be one family.

“Why me?” she asked. “Why come tome?”

Papa Legba’s laughter shook the crossroads, warped the vision around them.Vittorio cheats me. He’s dying ahead of his time. Tricky bastard. Julia Brown gave him a hundred days. TikTok, TikTok. If I don’t take what’s mine, the Draca will step in and push for the prophecy, using my magic and that scoundrel Phoenix to claim Lucio. I’ll be denied. But you, child, you can stop it. You can have everything and gain everything you want.

Darlene’s spine stiffened; her eyes narrowed. “You want to cheat me out of my soul so you can claim Domencio. Lucio, Vittorio? I amworth morethan that. You have already done your deity work with Julia Brown. Be man enough to go get them yourself.”

Papa Legba’s brow lifted in surprise.

“I’m Wanda Brown’s daughter, a descendant of the realm, a chosen. You’re a trickster God. Tracked in this universe, weaving pain and misfortune into games you like to play. You don’t getmysoul with slick talk and fantasy.”

A wicked grin spread across Darlene’s face as the anger in Papa Legba began to rise. “But maybe I can give you something else as an exchange?”

Papa Legba’s eyes glittered with intrigue. “And what’s that child?”

Shakespeareconsumedher.Every molecule of Sonya was absorbed in a union otherworldly. She had no fight left in her. The moment they entered the room he stripped her of her clothes and took her down. Her breath gusted when she struggled to speak, his cock slamming into her was a welcomed release. Every nerve set ablaze by the relentless rhythm of his pelvic bone hammering against hers. Their sweat-slicked skin made their movements slippery, heated by her cosmic energy and a beautiful pulsating fiery burn that soaked the bedsheets. Each stroke of his cock, turned into an upward toss of her hips, and he throttled them toward an increased velocity as he claimed her over and over. His chest pressed against her, his mouth trailed hot, breathless kisses slicked her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her jaw—never giving her a moment to catch her breath.

Sonya's legs were sinched high on his waist, locked around him, holding him close, her body arched with every powerful thrust he delivered. The deep, primal connection between them blurred the lines of time.

Shakespeare had already drunk so much from her, his hunger voracious, nearly insatiable—but she felt him hesitate now. His body trembled with restraint, unsure if he could take more without completely losing himself in her. He couldn’t remember ever being this hungry or aroused. The melanin in her skin was delightfully warm and salty. Strange. From the countless women of color he consumed, he saw little difference in melanin. But now his tastebuds were awakened to the UV excellence of the sun denied.

He stopped drinking while fucking. He stared down at that tiny pebble of blood mixed in with the pebbled beads of sweat surrounding her neck wound. He laved it inside of his mouth, stroking it over and over, roughing it with the flat of his tongue.

“You must pace yourself,” she whispered into his mind, and he found the will to stop drinking. Her gaze sparkled up at him like gems. She pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him deeper.

“I love you,” repeated his response over and over as the kiss helped him reclaim control of his darkness. And his mouth left hers, his Draca now abated. Their gaze simultaneously went downward. They were fascinated and excited by the sight of her plump pussy, with the thick thatch of curly pubes taking in his shaft as light energy spilled out of her channel and illuminated the length of his dick, ball sack, and pubic hairs.

Shakespeare rolled to his back and let her get on top. Wanting her to take full control. The bite to her neck already healed. Sonya smiled, a soft, knowing smile, her fingers threaded through his damp hair. Shewantedhim to lose control. She wanted to give him more of herself, to feel the intensity of his need for her, to let him fuck her until there was nothing left. They were both drunk off each other, drunk on the endless cycle of pleasure and power that surged between them.

Her head fell back as her pelvic thrusts increased, her body devoured his surging uptilted cock as her clit tingled and distended with sensory overload. She arched away from him as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She had never felt so completely possessed, so utterlyclaimed, and yet so free. Every moan that escaped her lips only urged him on, his movements becoming more frantic, more primal, as if they could never get close enough, never satisfy the deep, ravenous hunger that bound them together.

She loved him. It was undeniable.

“At last it’sme and you,” Tristan whispered, his voice thick with need and reverence for his goddess. He cradled Charmaine’s face in his hands, his thumbs brushed tenderly over her cheeks while he gazed into her eyes. The world around them fell away. The sex had been immediate, a sensual act that repeatedly blended, bonded, and transformed their energy. He worshipped her body with the intensity of a man who knew she was his for eternity. And still he needed more.

He needed her—not just the pleasure, but the raw truth of her. The woman who had shattered everything he knew about love that remained within him. It was his Draca who had to look away, fade into the void or suffer disintegration from the union.

“You are more beautiful to me than anyone or anything,” Tristan murmured.

Charmaine’s breath hitched, her chest rose and fell beneath him. “It’s Liora you see, not met,” she replied. “It’s the curse, or the magic, or whatever it is... this isn’t real. If this had never happened, you’d be a Priest in his eighties. And I’d be a real-estate agent, and part-time accountant doing taxes for people in my community. That’ reality… this is something different.”

Tristan’s grip tightened on her chin, firm but gentle, as he turned her face back to his. “Look at me. This isn’t different it’s real. Do you hear me? It’s real. Everything before us was not. Ask yourself why you accepted any of it. Why you didn’t turn away. Inside you knew. I was coming. For you.” His lips descended on hers with a hunger that left no room for denial. His tongue swept into her mouth, claimed her, tasted her, renamed their love. She moaned into the kiss, her body arching as heat unfurled inside her, spiraling down to the core where he was buried deep inside her. The sweat on her cheeks gleamed in the brightness radiating from her melanated skin. Her long lashes fluttered shut; her mind lost in the electric storm of sensation.

Without breaking the kiss, Tristan thrust into her again, slow and deliberate, he drove himself deeper, pinning her beneath him with the sheer force of his need. She sank into the soft pillows, her face still held firmly in his hands, his mouth never leaving hers.

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