Page 12 of Violent Delights

As people spill out of the house, the breeze picks up, causing the outdoor fire to dance as if it’s listening to the rhythm of the music. But the three young men steal my attention once again.

One of them is silent, while the other two shove at each other, laughing out loud. The quiet one turns to me, his eyes locking on mine as if we’re magnets and he needs to find his polar opposite.

Dark hair falls to his eyes. From here, they look as dark as night. His angular jaw is shaped with care as if a sculptor fell in love and created the most beautiful face he could. Full lips seem to pout as if he’s not happy to be here.

There is a deep-seated ache in my chest to go to him and learn his name. But I don’t. Instead, I’m frozen to the spot, staring at a stranger who looks like a Greek god in the flesh. His friends continue their raucous behavior, but he’s different.

He still has my attention, just like the first time I saw him. When the song changes, the moment is broken, and I turn and race into the maze. It’s a beautiful rose-filled sanctuary and when I reach the middle, I settle on the cold concrete bench that has my name scrawled on the back.

I tilt my head up, my eyes finding constellations I’ve come to learn over the years. I’ve always loved the sky at night. A magical myriad of glowing promises that there is beauty in the world.

“Polaris.” A deep, soothing voice startles me. “The North Star.”

I snap my gaze to the stranger with the messy dark hair. The curls tease his forehead, one of them fallen into his left eye, making him look younger than I expect he is. When the corners of his lips tilt into a smirk, I notice the two dimples that form in either cheek.

He looks like one of those guys who can steal your heart, break it, and you’d still thank him for the pleasure.

“You know the stars?”

“I know of them,” he tells me, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He moves closer, and the way he walks is controlled, his back straight, and his shoulders broad in a dark button-up. He doesn’t look like one of Cassio’s friends. They’re all dressed in bright colors and obnoxious patterns.

“How does one knowofthem and not know the constellations?”

He shrugs one shoulder, his head tips to the side, and his smirk turns to a genuine smile. “There are some things that not even experts know.”

I ponder this for a little while as I watch the stranger move in the darkness. In the center of the maze, there aren’t any lights on; the only illumination is from the moon that hangs heavily above us.

“I suppose,” I answer. I’m not proud of my response. I could have found something more intelligent to say, but this boy, this man, has my mind racing with thoughts I should not be having.

“Do you like the stars? Do you believe they seal our fate?”

My brows furrow, but I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips. “Are you talking about destiny?”

“Perhaps.”

“No,” I answer. “Destiny is for those who believe in fairy tales and happy ever afters.” I may sound far too negative for my age, but after what my father told me, I doubt I’ll ever be able to follow my destiny. Even if I were banging my head against the wall, I’ll always be fated to end up where my father wants me to be.

“That’s quite a sad outlook for such a pretty girl,” the stranger remarks. I wish he’d come closer, but he stays at a distance.

I smile this time. “Perhaps it is only a sad outlook that this life has afforded me.” And that’s when he approaches me.

Chapter 7

Domenico

She’s devastatingly beautiful.

I never imagined I would be so enthralled by a woman—no, a girl, before. Her face is framed perfectly with gentle waves of gold. Those eyes that shimmer are the same shade as a sun-filled sky.

She looks nothing like the women in any of the clans I’ve come across. I’m not sure who she is, but I’m speechless. At least somewhat. Her lips are full, pouty, with a soft shine of lip gloss or something. Her body is draped in silver as if she were a prized trophy.

“What are you doing out here alone?” I ask, hoping to turn that darkness she’s exuding like a goddamned aphrodisiac into something bright. A girl like her shouldn’t be sad. She should be smiling, celebrating.

“I needed to breathe,” she tells me earnestly. There’s no hint of a lie in her tone. I doubt she even knows how to lie. There’s something so pure about her, and I’m dying to dirty it up.

“This life can get rather stifling,” I agree with a nod. “But you’re far too young to be feeling so distraught.” Even though I don’t for sure know her age, I can tell by her pristineappearance there aren’t any chemicals in her veins. She hasn’t had injections; she also has never seen the sharp end of a scalpel.

“I’ve always basked in the sweet sorrow of life,” she tells me with a smile that has my chest tightening. Then she pushes to her feet, and as she straightens to her full height, I take in her small frame. She just about reaches my chin.

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