Page 112 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
My heart wants to cry. All I can see standing in front of me is that lonely, helpless little boy forced to fend for himself, trained to not trust a soul.
“Is that what you want?” I whisper.
He reaches up both hands and takes my face in his warm palms. His eyes roam me ravenously. “It’s all I want.”
When he presses his lips to mine, there’s no darkness—only daylight. No wrist ties—only a soft caress. And it’s now that I realize none of us perfectly fit into a box. We’re all complex. Me? I’m dark, I’m wild, but I’m soft and grounded. Benito? He’s dark, he’s rough, but his palm is light and his heart is swollen. And that’s what makes people so hard to trust—they’re fluid and ever-changing. And being vulnerable to that takes a kind of strength that can elude even the most powerful among us.
Contessa
Somehow I manage to get through the wedding rehearsal without letting on to my sisters the fact my life just tilted on its axis and I no longer know which way is up.
As we all leave, I sense Benito watching me closely from the corner of the room. I walk over to him and tilt my gaze to his. He leans back against the paneled wall and looks down at me through thick lashes, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.
“I need to see him,” I say, quietly but firmly.
His gaze searches my face, then he nods slowly. “His flight leaves in two hours.”
I press my palm against Benito’s chest, feeling his heart pumping hard beneath the flesh. “Take me to him.”
He pushes himself off the wall and slides his hands into his pockets, then gestures for me to lead the way through the exit and down the corridor.
His hand touches my shoulder, making me pause and turn around. We’ve stopped at the door to another room. He knocks twice and it opens from the other side.
A soldier I vaguely recognize steps to one side and Fed’s form comes into view. He’s sitting on a chair, his back to the door and his hands have been bound to the chair with the handcuffs.
I feel Benito’s hand at my back, coaxing me gently into the room. I walk slowly round the outer edge of the room until I’m facing my childhood friend. He lifts his head and his face brightens instantly, despite the blood drying around his mouth.
I look over at Benito and the soldier. “Can I speak with him in private?”
Benito’s jaw grinds.
“Please?”
After a painfully long few seconds, he nods and they both leave the room, closing the door behind them.
I tentatively walk to Fed and lower to my knees before him.
“Why did you come back?” I whisper.
He goes to speak but his lips are dry. There’s a glass of water on the table beside him. I lift it to his lips so he can drink. After a few sips I place it back on the table and sit back on my heels.
“I promised you I would,” he says slowly.
A frown knits my brows. “You promised me you’d write.”
He sighs heavily and looks out of the window.
“I couldn’t write you until I had something valuable to say. Didn’t you get my last letter?”
“Youronlyletter,” I correct. “Yes, I did.”
His gaze doesn’t waver from the window. “I didn’t want you to think I was so weak that I couldn’t seek revenge for my family.”
I reach out to touch his knees, drawing his gaze back to mine. “I never thought you were weak.”
“But, you didn’t love me.”
The hurt in his eyes almost destroys me.
