Page 116 of His Dark Vendetta

We hobbled through broken glass toward the exit, my focus darting between Luca’s pale face and the ground, making sure I didn’t trip over anything. Crimson speckled his eyes, swirling pools of browns and reds, but it was still Luca. The Luca I’d always known. The Luca whose eyes held those same red flecks when I’d told him about my scars. The Luca who brought me to the deli to share his secret. The Luca who just told me he couldn’t live without me. The same man.

He eyed me sideways. “You’re not freaked out?”

I shot him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? I’m wicked freaked out, but we need to get out of here.”

We moved quickly once we fell into a rhythm. For once, I was thankful for the heat; the streets were empty. Luca’s shirt was black. That helped. But my white blouse was covered in blood. The faster we reached Vesuvio, the better.

Fifteen long minutes later, Vinnie pounded his fist against the back door.

Enzo answered, and as soon as Vinnie pivoted to get Luca through the door, I got out of the way and let Enzo bear the other half of Luca’s weight. Sweat poured down my face, and my arms shook from the strain.

“Let’s get him to the couches,” Enzo said and lifted his chin to the leather seats behind the stripper pole.

Luca slumped onto the bench, resting against its back with his uninjured shoulder. His long hair was matted to his forehead, his face leeched of color. His eyes returned to their normal color, only a few red specks dotting his coffee brown irises.

Marco paced the length of the bar, shouting into his cell. He must not have liked what he heard on the other end, because he let out an angry roar, picked up a barstool, and threw it clear across the room. It hit the far wall and clattered to a stop on the floor. He shouted into the phone, and his eyes burned like hot coals.

I wavered on my feet.

Vinnie grabbed my arm and steadied me. “Gonna need you to pull it together, sweetheart. Now’s not the time, capisce?”

I nodded. “Capisce.”

“Get some towels,” he barked at Enzo. “Let’s get him cleaned up before the doc gets here.” Vinnie took out his phone, walked behind the bar, and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

Marco pointed his phone and gaze at Luca. “Stai bene?”

“Yeah,” Luca croaked. “I’ll live.”

Marco aimed his attention and phone at me.

I nodded.

He brought the phone back to his ear, and the string of loud Italian continued.

I sat on the couch next to Luca. His mouth turned into a sheepish half-smile that accentuated the tip of his eyetooth. It wasn’t as long or sharp as it had been at the deli, but there was no denying it wasn’t human.

“Nothing’s ever easy with us, is it?”

I huffed. “No. Never.”

Enzo dropped a stack of towels on the bench and handed one to me.

“Thanks,” I said.

I combed the damp hair off Luca’s face with my fingers and wiped the sweat away with the towel.

He grabbed my wrist and ran his thumb against the back of my hand. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you. I should have known you were strong enough to handle the truth. You’re the strongest person I know.” He winced, and the red sparks in his eyes flared. “My mother died, because she couldn’t handle what my father was, and the thought of losing you the same way…” He shuddered and closed his eyes.

I dragged my fingernails along his scalp the way he liked. He took a couple of breaths, calmed, and opened his eyes.

“What happened to her?” I asked.

“She never recovered from the shock. My father, Gina, the doctors—they forced her to eat, but they couldn’t convince her to drink my father’s blood, and she refused to let him feed from her. That’s how my species bonds, and a human carrying a demone del sangue needs both blood and venom to survive.”

“Demone del sangue,” I repeated.

He nodded. “A blood demon.”

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