Chapter 194: [Bonus Chapter] Soft Curiosity
- LUCIANO -
I didn’t plan on going into Rory’s room, obviously. But when I heard her screaming, I reacted on instinct. There was a brief hesitation in my mind when I reached for her door handle and recalled what Raya said, but my body didn’t even bother pausing. It was the same scream I heard that day on the hill with Lawson before her voice cut off abruptly and I thought she was gone.
This time, her scream was a lifeline. Her scream meant she was still very much alive, and it hadn’t stopped. If there was some chance a crazed lunatic actually got in her room, I wasn’t too late yet.
But there was no one to shoot. No one to punish. Now I’m lying next to her in the dark, watching the curved silhouette of her body, praying that she can relax while I’m here and not stay tense and agitated.
I wonder what this new dream was about. She said I was in it. I was the one hurt. My lips twitch at the thought, and internally my mind traces the scars that riddle my body—evidence of the real injuries I’ve lived through. By now, I can stitch up my own wounds without an issue.
I haven’t grown immune to physical pain. Shit still hurts. But I’m deadened to the shock of it. And that’s almost the worst part of any pain—the shock of realizing just how bad it can get. Just how much pain you can feel. That’s when the panic sets in. That’s when fear grips you about whether or not you’ll survive. If there’s no shock or panic, then you have control.
Suddenly, my thoughts snag on precisely what it means that I was the one being hurt when Rory was screaming. She was screaming in fear not OF someone but FOR someone. She was screaming in fear... for me.
My chest stalls.
I’m not sure how long we lay like that in the dark, but eventually her breath is something I can hear rather than just something I watch filling her. That’s when I take a deep, satisfied breath of my own and blow it out slowly. She’s sleeping.
I grab for my phone and squint at its bright glow, gritting my teeth together when I see the response from Dr. Reddy. I’m trying to get the retired cardiologist friend of my father’s to fly out here, but he’s being stubborn. Something about a family event that he can’t miss this week.
’Bring your mistress for a vacation on me.’ I said in the message above.
’For now, have her get a simple EKG. Anyone can do it.’ Was his last reply. ’Or have a nurse check for a murmur. I will see her when you return.’
’I don’t want just ANYONE.’ I type out angrily.
Fuck, old man. Who passes up a free trip to Costa Rica?
When Rory whimpers and shifts, I put the phone down and let my eyes adjust to the darkness again. She turns my way, her hand dropping right next to my chest. The wrist on her arm is so delicate with the gentle push of blood beneath the skin.
I tighten my arms around myself and bend to leave the faintest of kisses on her pulse point. It makes me feel like a vampire—the way I want to worship that small surge of movement that pushes through her with each beat of her heart.
Maybe I should try to sleep, too. Maybe then if she has another dream, I will be there to show her how little she truly needs to worry about me.
————
It’s warm and comfortable when I awake. It’s so comfortable that rather than shooting straight up out of bed like I usually do, I ease further into the body that’s slung over my side.
A sweet female moan, heavy with sleep, makes my cock twitch to attention. Every instinct is to lean into it—to chase that vulnerable noise and claim it with my mouth. But a prickling warning pulls my eyelids open before I can, and that’s when I remember where I am and who I’m with.
Rory must open her eyes the moment I do, because I end up looking into her deep blue irises and realizing just how many spindles of various shades they’re riddled with. It’s like she has an inner siren in those stormy depths calling me, too. I’m positive I could sink there.
Thankfully my arms are still wrapped tightly around my middle—hands tucked under my armpits—because I know I’m about to be accused of something unforgivable. She, on the other hand, has an arm and a leg draped over me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
When she doesn’t pull back in alarm but rather stares back at me with her eyebrows puckering in soft curiosity, I can’t help myself. Frankly, she’s lucky I don’t devour her entirely. Instead, I pull an arm out of the self-imposed straight jacket I’m in and lightly brush her cheek, letting my gaze drop to her lips even though I know the effect it’s going to have on my dick.
She’s soft like the morning rays filtering in through the windows. Her scent is sweet and light. It’s confusing, because I would have imagined her to be sharp, spicy, tangy—promising a burn on the tongue if I were to taste her. But she’s not those things.
I have to gulp back the powerful surge of sudden terror at realizing just how vulnerable she truly is under that tough exterior. She’s that delicate flower whose petals can bruise so easily once they are finally exposed, which is why she never shows them.
With that knowledge, I let my hand drop. I want to kiss her. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more. But I have to do this the right way. I don’t have experience with a rare flower. Instead of sending the cactus to her with its grow light and all of its instructions, I should have been the one keeping it and studying it and making sure I was capable of something that requires so much care.
Rory watches my every movement with that same soft curiosity, and I feel her gaze prodding me until I’m fixed again on those eyes of hers—trying to wordlessly submit to whatever silent interrogation this is that she has for me. Slowly, she takes her arm and leg back from where they’re loosely caging me.
I clear my throat and get up, stretching briefly before glancing at her doing the same.
"You good?" It’s a stupid question, but... I have to say something.
She nods with a small smile, cheeks stained such a pretty shade of pink—shy about what just happened. Fuck, I should have kissed her when I had the chance. I want to see how far I can get that color to spread... down her neck, feathering across her chest.
"No more nightmares?" I ask.
She shakes her head this time, still not committing anything to words. Then she disappears behind the bathroom door, and I bury my face in my hands and groan.
