Page 68 of Kissing the Villain

“I know, but…” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Fuck, I’m not thinking straight. Ever since she’s returned to Devil’s Creek, I’m all fucked up.”

He snickered. “No shit.”

“Alex is too important to our survival.”

Marcello patted my knee. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Until last month, I thought letting her go was for the best. I knew she would wait for me—she always did—but the harsh reality of my world was about to crash down on her.

“If I tell her the truth, she’ll run.” I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, trying so damn hard to keep my shit together. “That’s what she does when she’s scared.”

“If we had more Initiates, we’d have more coverage nationwide. The longer we delayLegare, the worse this will get. The Knights need a queen. So put your fucking pride aside and get on your hands and knees and beg Alex to marry your miserable ass.”

“I just wish I knew what she wanted.”

“You know what she wants,” he snapped.

Love—something I didn’t understand. My mother was the last person to tell me she loved me and show me how much she cared.

“Stop acting like a dick if you want Alex to marry you.”

Staring out the window, I sighed. “I’m trying.”

“No, you’re not. Locking her in a bedroom won’t change her mind. And it sure as hell will not keep her safe.”

“Fine,” I countered. “What would you do?”

Because I was a masochist, I needed to know. How would my little brother win over my girl?

Marcello pushed open his car door, and the interior lights came on. “You can’t keep avoiding Alex because you feel guilty about fucking up with the Albanians. If she were mine, I would have married her already, and our family wouldn’t be in this position right now.”

29

ALEX

All night,I drifted in and out of consciousness, my sweet dreams transforming into my worst nightmares. When I opened my eyes, four tall men stood at the edge of my bed, wearing scaly masks.

The Serpents.

They dissolved into a black haze. I gasped, rolling onto my side to catch my breath. Moonlight crept in through the open French doors, a soft breeze from the bay blowing them open.

I sat up and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Heavy footsteps tapped the hardwood floor. I followed the sounds, my pulse pounding in my ears, the blood rushing to my head. The room was pitch black except for the light from the balcony. As I blinked again, a figure emerged from a dark corner.

“Luca,” I whispered.

No answer.

“Marcello?”

More silence.

“Roman?”

Not a word.

I slid off the bed and ran toward the ensuite bathroom, where I’d left my cell phone on the charger.

Someone pushed me into the room.

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