Bound By Blood: The Mafia's Vengeance

Chapter 2: Cliffside

The boat moved away from the shore. Behind them, the gala lights blinked out.

No alarm. No chase. Just the sea, the night, and the woman sleeping peacefully in his boat.

Serena’s eyes snapped open. She winced as a sharp pain shot through her skull.

Where am I?" she thought within herself.

She sat up fast and cried out. Her wrists were badly bruised and tied to the headboard with black silk. The silk was loose enough to shift but also tight enough to draw thin lines of blood.

The room looked like a cave. A black marble floor, with one entire wall made up of glass, staring out at a wild ink-dark sea. No handles on the doors, no phone or guards in sight.

She pulled on the silk, but instead of giving way, it drew more blood from her skin.

“Let me out!” she screamed, frustrated.

She twisted, kicked the sheets away, and froze. Bare legs and body except for a thin white slip that clearly wasn’t hers. The fabric carried his scent, bergamot and gunpowder.

Her stomach flipped as the memories slammed back. The abduction, his hands, the black clothes he used on her.

You’re not safe. Move. The thought clawed up her spine, leaving a cold tremor in its wake.

She scanned the room like a cornered animal. Dresser. Mirror. A single chair swallowed by shadow and eyes.

Adrian sat there, legs crossed, black shirt open at the throat, watching her the way a wolf watches something it has already decided to devour.

The dim light carved hard lines across his chest, the open collar revealed the strong column of his throat, and a hint of dark hair beneath.

Serena went still. Then fury flooded in, hot and bright.

“You drugged me,” she spat. “You touched me.”

He didn’t blink. “You’re awake. Good.”

His gaze drifted slowly, over the way the slip had ridden up her thighs, over the soft rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed too fast.

Stop looking at me like that. The heat of his stare made her skin hot. She pulled on the ties again, arching against the headboard in fury. The motion pulled the silk tight across her chest; his eyes tracked it, unhurried.

“Untie me, or I’ll scream until your ears bleed.”

“Go ahead.” His voice was low, almost bored, but darker now. “The room is soundproof.”

She screamed anyway: raw, feral, until her throat burned and her chest heaved.

He wants you helpless. Don’t give him that. She thought and steadied her shaking breath.

He waited, letting her exhaust herself. When she finally stopped, flushed and trembling, he rose slowly, like a man with all the time in the world.

Serena’s heart slammed against her ribs. She hated how small she felt under that stare. Hated the way it lingered on her mouth and body.

He stopped just out of reach. “You’re not hurt,” he said.

“My wrists beg to differ.”

His gaze moved to the bruises, then lower, tracing the fast pulse at the base of her throat. Something unreadable darkened his eyes.

“I had to be sure you wouldn’t run.”

“I will run,” she hissed. “And when I do, I’ll cut your throat with that pretty little knife you stole from me.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, almost a smile. He reached into his pocket and drew out the silver blade. He flipped it, caught it by the tip, and held it out, handle first.

“Take it,” he said softly. “Cut me. Try.”

It was a trap and they both knew it. Still, she lunged, snatched the knife, and went for his arm.

He moved faster. Caught her wrist midair, twisted until the blade fell to the floor. In one motion he was over her , knee forcing her thighs apart, one iron hand pinning both her wrists above her head.

The slip had ridden high; cool air kissed the tops of her thighs. She felt the hard muscle of his leg pressed between hers and hated the single, treacherous pulse of heat that answered.

Serena snarled and sank her teeth into his jaw, hard enough to taste copper.

Adrian hissed but didn’t pull away.

He dragged his tongue slowly across the bead of blood on her lower lip, tasting with a smile.

“You taste like revenge,” he whispered against her mouth.

Her whole body ignited. Hate, fear, and something she refused to name.

I’d rather die than want him, she reasoned.

She shook wildly. “Get off me.”

He leaned closer, breath hot against her ear. “Make me.”

She slammed her forehead into his nose, the impact causing him to bleed.

He laughed, low, rough, and startlingly real for the first time. The sound vibrated through her chest.

“Fire spirit,” he murmured, almost tender. “Good. I’d hate a doll.”

He released her and stood, wiping the blood from his face with his thumb, eyes never leaving hers.

Serena scrambled back against the headboard. Her breathing was ragged, and her heart pounded loudly.

For the first time in years, Adrian felt it. A hard, thick ache between his legs. It was heavy and almost angry. He went motionless for half a second, caught off guard by the sudden, brutal rush of blood southward.

Lucia had climbed on him many nights before. She used her mouth or hands to make him finish. It was quick. It was routine. It meant nothing. He got hard for her because the body does what it’s told

.

But this feeling now was different. It was wild. It hurt a little. It came from the taste of her blood on his tongue, from the way her body fought him, from the bite she gave like she wanted to take a piece of him.

His c**k pushed hard against his pants zipper. So hard it almost hurt. He wanted to force her legs wider right then and push inside her just to hear if she would scream, moan, or both.

He bent down, picked up the knife, and turned it slowly in the light. Using the move to hide how he had to shift himself a little.

“Tomorrow,” he said. His voice sounded rougher now, “You’ll take a bath, you’ll eat and you’ll behave.”

“I don’t behave.”

“I know.”

The door opened before he reached it.

A woman stepped in, tall, raven-haired, dressed in tailored black that hugged every lethal curve. Lucia Rossi. Adrian’s shadow and right hand.

The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

Lucia’s gaze slid over Serena and then to the blood on Adrian’s jaw. Her lips curled.

There was something hungry in the look, something territorial. As if Serena had stepped into a place Lucia believed belonged to her.

“Report on the Valente shipment,” she said sharply. “It’s clean. For now.”

Adrian nodded, eyes still locked on Serena. “Good. Take care of her tomorrow. Bath. Food. Clothes. Make sure she doesn’t kill anyone.”

Lucia’s stare cut back to Serena. “I’ll try.”

He walked to the door, paused on the threshold.

“Oh. And Serena?”

She glared at him with pure venom.

“Your father ordered you dead when you were twelve.”

For a heartbeat, her blood turned to ice.

He’s lying. But her stomach lurched like it knew he wasn’t.

Then he was gone.

Lucia stepped closer and stopped at the foot of the bed. She looked down at Serena like she was something mildly disgusting on her shoe.

“You think you’re special,” she said, voice low and venomous. “A pretty little bird in a cage. He’ll tire of you. He’ll break you. And when he does”, she leaned in until Serena could smell jasmine and gun oil. “I’ll be the one to sweep up the pieces.”

Serena smiled stubbornly.

“Touch me, and I’ll make you eat your words”

Something raw and ugly flashed in Lucia’s eyes. And then vanished before she could name it.