Page 94 of Where the Wicked Reign

“What’s… oh, right… we were on a video call last night.”

“And you fell asleep shortly after the pain meds kicked in.”

I frowned. “So, you stayed on the call watching me sleep all night long?”

I’d thought his creeper ways had been moving into the background now that we weren’t warring at a distance anymore, now that we were seeing each other up close,andnow that we’d been together in the way he’d wanted for so long. All right, in the way I’d also wanted, but had denied to myself for so long.

“I dozed off for a couple of hours.”

I shifted closer carefully, mindful of the stitches in my side as I did. I could feel the painkillers had almost worn off, and the ache was more than just a little noticeable.

“The meds are on your nightstand,” he told me.

I must have failed to hide my grimace as I’d moved.

I took him in. He was sitting up in bed, propped up against a wealth of black and silver pillows, black silk sheets across his waist and his chiseled chest on display. His thick, black hair was all wild from sleep and his eyes also looked a little glazed from obviously having just recently woken up.

I zoned in on the bold artwork of the swirling black tattoos stretching down his right arm that converged into a fearsome dragon’s head on the back of his hand. My gaze traveled to the vulture wings wrapping around his neck, then to the beautiful and intricate sword tattoo spanning the length of his left inner forearm with the wordsSi vis pacem, para bellum. If you want peace, prepare for war.That was certainly apt for both the life he’d led and with what was coming for us. I caught sight of the gunshot scar a few inches over his heart. I knew that had happened four years ago when the families had been at war during a shootout with Benzino soldiers.

I’d seen more scars the night we’d gotten carnal atNocturne.Stab wounds, one on his lower back and another through his right thigh. Rumors were that the latter had been inflicted almost ten years ago during a particularly brutal battle with a traitor to the Marchetti Syndicate, the night Nico had officially become a Made Man.

As if he didn’t have enough scars, there was also the one through his left hand thatI’dcaused when I’d crucified it with his own steak knife atIl Forno.

Regret pierced me and I caught myself, the reaction bothering me and worrying me a whole fucking lot. He’d deserved what I’d done, and I’d had to make my point, to make it clear that he couldn’t fuck with me and walk away scot-free. Hell, I’d wanted to do more than that at the time—and for a long while afterward, too.

The fact that I was having this reaction to it now, though, this regret, rammed it home to me just how much things had shifted, how much they’d evolved. It was a heady realization, and one that would definitely take some time to absorb.

Actually, something I needed to take the time to absorb in a more objective way. That objectivity couldn’t be achieved while I was around him, Julian, and Emilio.

And, as much as I hated that I’d taken a hit last night, perhaps it had come at the optimal time, forcing this downtime from them, this break in things.

As I continued studying Nico, it was apparent and a little startling that he wasn’t giving off his usual devious vibe at all. He actually seemed calm and almost easygoing as he looked back at me through the screen, sitting up in bed and just chilling.

The non-devious vibe was just like during breakfast at Julian’s place the other dayandlast night when he’d helped me back to my apartment. He’d even apologized for having to sneak me in the roundabout way, which had involved him carrying me up several flights of stairs before we’d then taken the elevator from a few floors up as part of our covert path to my place.Apologized?Nico Marchetti? And for something that wasn’t his fault while he’d also been busting his ass to carry my injured body up all those stairs.

“You’re staring,” he said, amusement lifting his lips.

I jolted.Shit,I was. “I just woke up. My eyes are still focusing.”

He chuckled. “Is that right?”

I settled onto my side and propped my head up on my pillow. “No.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Really? You’re actually admitting to putting on a front?”

“It’s not a front. But something a little like that. Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, resting his head back. “I’m used to being on the defensive with everything and everyone.”

My gut twisted at his words, his naked confession. “I get how that feels.”

He smiled. “I know you do.”

“That was why I was staring, by the way… thinking about you apologizing last night and trying to figure out what to make of it.”

“I see.”

“Well?”

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