Midnight Untamed(8)

“No.” Ettore’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Jesus, he didn’t.”

Bella swallowed. “Sal told him about my gift for scrying. He told Massioni to imagine how much richer he could be if he had the ability to see the future. Sal promised that I was worth ten times as much as the debt he owed. In the end, I’m sure he was right. Massioni took me away that night, after giving his men the order to kill Sal.”

Ettore’s eyes were no longer dark, but crackling with shards of amber that ignited with his rage. As he spoke, the tips of his fangs glinted bright white behind his lips. “That cowardly son of a bitch. If your brother were alive right now, I’d fucking kill him myself.” He reached up to touch her face and she could feel the power of his fury beneath the tenderness of his fingers.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I did what I had to in order to survive. Chiara and my little nephew are what matter most to me. They’re the reason I stayed with Massioni. He held their lives ransom to make sure I never crossed him or tried to get away.”

“Well, he can’t hurt anyone now,” Ettore said. “As of tonight, Vito Massioni’s either dead or damned close to it.”

“No. You don’t understand.” She stepped back, shaking her head. She wished she could stand there all night under the warmth of his caress, but her dread was only intensifying by the moment. “You don’t realize what you’ve done, Ettore. He gave instructions to his entire criminal network to hunt down Chiara and Pietro if anything ever happened to him. If he’s dead, so are they. Or they will be soon.”

Ettore studied her for a moment before hissing a tight curse. “Your brother’s widow and her boy—are they still at the vineyard?”

She nodded.

“Fuck. That’s three hours in the other direction.” He stared at her, grim but resolute. “If we push it, the Pagani should get us there in under two.”

“Does that mean you’ll help me?”

“To my last breath, Arabella.” He cupped her face in his strong palm, his eyes blazing with determination and something deeper. Something that lit a dormant hope in her chest and made her veins tingle with heat.

She knew he felt the same kindling of emotion too. It was there in his glittering eyes, and in the lengthening points of his fangs.

He may have abandoned her without explanation a decade ago, but all of the attraction and need that had existed between them was still there. Still burning inside both of them.

“Come on,” he said after a long moment, his voice rough. “We’d better go.”





Chapter 5



They made it to Potenza in just under two hours, thanks to clear late-night roadways and the seven hundred horses at work inside the Pagani’s massive engine.

Savage turned onto a narrow two-lane and headed for the Genova family vineyard even before Bella pointed to give him directions. He had been born in the same southern province of Italy, and, like her, he had spent the better part of his youth traipsing around the volcanic soil foothills of the region’s imposing Mount Vulture.

Unlike Bella, however, he had no family of his own. Whoever his parents were, they’d been gone from his life soon after he was born. Abandoned when he was just a baby, he’d been raised in one Darkhaven orphanage after another until he was old enough to take care of himself.

He thought he’d found something close to family when he met Bella’s brother, Consalvo, at university and the two became fast friends. He had regarded Sal like a brother, helped work the vineyard with the family as if it was his own.

For a long time, he had actually believed he’d found someplace to belong.

He had belonged…until his desire for Arabella had been found out and he’d been informed by her father that he was no longer welcome there.

Not good enough for his daughter.

Bella deserved something better.

Hell, Savage wouldn’t argue that, even now.

But as he glanced over at her and watched her lovely face turn ashen with dread on their approach to the long gravel drive that led to the homestead at the base of the mountain, he felt a wave of possessiveness—and protectiveness—he could not deny.

And he felt guilt too.

For leaving her the way he had, for letting her think he didn’t care.

For not being present to ensure that she never knew a moment of pain or heartache or fear.

All the things he could see playing across her features now.

Because of him.

She sucked in a sharp breath when she spotted the ominous-looking, empty black sedan parked halfway up the drive to the rambling villa. “Oh, no. Ettore, we’re too late.”

He clamped his molars tight, holding back the curse that leaped to his tongue. She was right. It didn’t look good.