Bound by Vengeance (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles #5)(27)

Cara

I didn’t stop running until I’d closed the door to my room behind me. What had I done? What had I let Growl do? God. My heart was pulsating wildly in my chest. I could feel the thud, thud even between my legs. I covered my eyes with my hand and took a deep shuddering breath. I’d never felt this unhinged before. But being driven by instincts, my mind had been blissfully silent.

I’d wanted to feel his fingers so desperately, even through the fabric the touch had ignited me. Why did my body do that to me? She hated Growl and yet my body responded to him. He wasn’t poster boy pretty. He was edgy and dark and scarred.

And my body wanted him because of it.

I shuddered, dropped my hand and staggered to my bed where I let myself fall. Being near Growl felt like falling, too.

Part of me wanted to return to the yard and let Growl finish what he’d started. I could regret my actions later, could perhaps even convince myself to blame Growl for everything. Perhaps this was some kind of Stockholm syndrome?

Did that work for sexual attraction as well? I gasped out a laugh. I was losing my mind.

The throbbing between my legs still hadn’t stopped. If possible, it had gotten even worse. I put my hand on my lower belly, then stopped. This wasn’t right. Even just fantasizing about someone like Growl was wrong, and touching myself while doing it? Surely sin.

My mother would never forgive me.

I curled my hand into a fist on my stomach. I’d be strong. I wouldn’t let my body dictate my actions. I was better than that.




The next two mornings I didn’t want to face Growl and waited until I heard him leave the house before I walked out of my room. I couldn’t hide forever but my embarrassment was still too fresh. At least, he didn’t seek out my company.

As usual I first checked every door and window to find them locked. The dogs lay in their beds, wagging their tails halfheartedly as I passed them. I considered patting them, but I didn’t dare without Growl close by. Which was kind of amusing, considering that not too long ago I’d considered him the most dangerous thing in my life. And he probably still was. I headed to my usual spot on the sofa and startled at the sight of six books neatly stacked on top of the living room table. I didn’t know any of the authors but it was a mix of romances and thrillers. I lowered myself to the sofa, stunned by Growl’s consideration. I was more confused than ever. Why was he treating me with respect? I picked up the book at the top and began reading, trying to immerse myself in another world and silence my thoughts.



When he returned in the evening, he brought pizza again and put it down on the living room table next to my new books. My face burnt with shame when his gaze finally settled on me. He looked completely unaffected however by my obvious embarrassment over our last encounter. “Thanks for the books,” I said.

He nodded and settled on the sofa. He opened the pizza carton and grabbed a piece. The spicy scent wafted over to me and reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since the morning. Growl had stocked the kitchen with a few more essentials since I’d moved in.

“Have you found out more about my sister?” I asked.

A few times I caught myself staring at his long fingers and remembering how it had felt to have them on my body.

I needed to stop this madness. Focus on something else, I told myself, and finally I settled for his scar. My eyes traced the angry red line around his throat. It was jagged as if they had used a saw-toothed knife. How could someone survive something like that? It seemed impossible. I couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to have the blood drain out of you. I shivered. There were so many rumors about how it had happened, and even more about how he’d survived. I suspected that many of them were the foundation on which Growl’s notorious reputation had been founded. Why was he alive? A wound like that, a cut throat, almost always meant death. Why had someone like him, someone who didn’t deserve to live, survived, while others died from less? It seemed unfair and cruel. Maybe it was stupid of me to expect life to be fair, to give everyone what they deserved.

I tore my gaze away, afraid he’d notice it and get angry. But he was probably used to the staring by now. Wherever he went people watched in awe and fear. I doubted he enjoyed the attention, so different from his boss. I’d seen the pride and delight on Falcone’s face whenever people shied away from his most feared assassin.

“Eat,” Growl rasped.

I jumped and again my eyes found his throat. This was my chance to get answers, to find out if there was a sliver of truth to the rumors my friends and I had whispered to each other in hushed voices. My chance to figure out the man in front of me, and how to influence him. Yet I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find out more about him. People fear what they don’t know, that was a quote I knew to be true but I had a feeling that not knowing was a blessing when it came to the man in front of me. With every layer that I peeled off more horrors would be exposed.

“Ask or stop looking,” he said. He didn’t sound angry.

I glared. I wanted to ask and at the same time didn’t. Not when he had almost ordered me to, but then my curiosity won. “What happened to you?”

Growl pushed another piece of pizza into his mouth and chewed slowly. He swallowed, then looked at me. “Someone wanted me dead, cut my throat,” he replied, eyes blank. “But I survived.”

I stared. That wasn’t an answer, at least not one that allowed me to find out more about Growl. It was generic and emotionless, but it showed me something. That I’d found a topic Growl was uncomfortable with.