Page 48 of Their Reckless Thief
I collapsed on my bed, sinking into the worn-out mattress. Grabbing the remote from my nightstand, I turned the old TV in the corner on, but the fuzzy images did nothing to distract me.
Get your mind off him.Just focus on something else.
But no matter what played on the screen, my thoughts kept drifting. Drifting back tohim.
Vincenzo.
I groaned in frustration. That damn vampire was infuriating. Controlling. Dangerous. A fucking prick who seemed to enjoy making my life a living hell. His eyes, that deep, predatory gaze, seemed to pierce through every wall I’d ever built. I could still feel his hands on my skin, his fingers moving through my hair.I could still see the concern and the fear in his eyes when he’d pulled me out of the tub.
And why the fuck did he have to be so gorgeous with his jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes, and those tailored suits that hugged him in all the right places. Unlike Dorian, I’d never seen him without a shirt, but I was willing to bet he was fucking ripped.
Gods.
My stomach dipped as I remembered that look in his eyes, the hunger beneath the surface. His body so close to mine when he’d pinned me against the wall, his hard cock pressing into my stomach as his fingers swiped between my folds, sending shockwaves through my body. The scent of him, so raw, and fucking powerful. And he’d tasted me. He’d moaned when he sucked my arousal off his fingers. He’d fucking moaned.
My fingers drifted downward, slipping beneath the waistband of my pants as I let the thought of him consume me.
It wasn’t just his power or his authority. It was the way he’d made me feel alive in a way no one ever had. He looked at me like hesawme. My breath hitched as I imagined him closer, his lips on my neck, his hands on my hips, pulling me closer, harder.
And then... it wasn’t just Vincenzo.
Dorian’s smile flashed in my mind, that cocky grin, those teasing eyes. He was the complete opposite of Vincenzo. Playful, lighthearted, flirtatious, but underneath it was something deeper, something dangerous. He’d cooked for me, cared for me in his own way, even when I didn’t deserve it. Hell, he’d made me laugh when I really wanted to scream. And, holy fuck, his body. Muscles upon muscles, rock-hard abs, and a wonderfully tight ass.
And then... Luca.
Silent. Brooding. Those shadows of his that had traced dark promises over my skin. The first time he’d grinned at me becausehe’d knownexactlywhat he was doing to me. Luca was an enigma, cold and aloof but capable of stirring something in me that I couldn’t quite understand.
My fingers moved faster over my clit, my breaths coming quicker as I imagined all three of them—Vincenzo, Dorian, and Luca—pressed against me. Their hands roamed my body, their lips drifted across my skin. The heat of their touch, the intensity of their gazes … it made me feel so fucking alive. Sowantedin a fucked-up, twisted sort of way.
A soft moan escaped my lips, the pleasure building inside me as I imagined the three men who had turned my life upside down in the span of a few short days. The ones I hated, the ones I craved.
My hips bucked against my hand. And then... sweet, glorious release. The orgasm was so intense that my vision went dark for a split second.
I lay there, panting, chest heaving, my body spent, but my mind still racing. Usually, an orgasm would clear my mind, but it left me feeling more conflicted than ever.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Deep down, I knew. They were all in my head now. And there was no escaping.
Not from Vincenzo. Not from Dorian. Not from Luca.
And definitely not from the feelings they’d awakened in me.
I mademy way down Market Street, the early morning light casting a hazy glow over the city. Newark was alive with its usual chaos. Buses rumbled by, and the aroma of fresh bagels mingled with the unmistakable tang of hot asphalt.
Tucked away on a quiet corner sat an unassuming diner with a neon sign that buzzed faintly even in daylight:Marta’s.It wasn’t much to look at with its chipped paint and outdated décor, but it smelled like heaven—coffee, grease, and powdered sugar. No magic, no monsters. Just the familiar, messy beauty of the human world.
I pushed through the door, and a bell jingled overhead. Marta herself, a no-nonsense woman in her sixties with sharp eyes and a soft heart, glanced up from the counter.
“Celeste,” she greeted, her voice warm despite her usual gruffness. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You look like hell.”
“Thanks, Marta.” I smirked as I slid onto one of the cracked vinyl stools. “You always know how to make a girl feel special.”
She snorted and set a cup of coffee in front of me. “What’ll it be? The usual?”
“Yes, please.” I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and brought it to my lips. The first sip was pure bliss. The bitterness was exactly what I needed to shake off the lingering unease of The Below.
I glanced around the diner. It was a mishmash of locals—an older man in a Yankees cap reading the paper, a mother trying to wrangle two kids into eating their pancakes, and a few cops grabbing a quick bite before their shifts. It was all so normal. And that was why I kept coming back.
