Page 24 of Vows of Blood

Before he can climb inside, I grab him, squirming, one-handed, the other clasped to the front of my slipping towel and carry him to the door.

"Enough." Patience thin after a long night, I set him down in the hallway, ignoring his outraged glare. “It’s for your own good. You really don’t want that.”

I shut the door on his complaints and tie up the bag with my clothes, debating whether it’s unforgivably lazy to just leave it here until morning to deal with. I’m still weighing my options when I turn toward the bed and scream. I stumble backward, my hip cracking against the doorframe, one hand flying out to grab anything I can use as a weapon.

There’s a figure, dressed from head to toe in black, sitting in my worn reading chair, waiting for me.

"It's me," he says, unfazed by my reaction.

"Luca?" My other hand flies to my chest, pressing against my racing heart. "What the actual fuck?"

He leans forward and regards me, still clutching my curling wand, my weapon of choice, with mild amusement, and not the least bit apologetic for scaring the absolute life out of me.

"Your lock is pathetic. Anyone could get in here."

Tightening my towel, I glare at him, setting the wand back on top of my dresser.

"Anyone just did." I adjust the towel again, painfully aware of how vulnerable and semi-naked I am.

This isn’t my Luca, I remind myself. I was safe with him, but with this man? Who knows.

Gathering the last bit of strength I have, I straighten my spine and pretend that I’m not internally freaking out. "What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“I came to see you. Your home.”

He doesn’t smile, just keeps looking at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. If he’s just here to check that my life really is as miserable as it seems, he can consider it done. And go.

“You broke into my apartment,” I grit out. It’s been a long night. I’m tired and overwrought, and bordering on delirious. There’s no way I can control the words tumbling from my mouth. “You can’t knock like everyone else?"

A flash of emotion flickers across his face, not shame like a normal person would feel, but amusement. Well, he can fuck right off if he thinks anything about this is funny.

"Your door is a piece of shit. There was barely any breaking needed."

A drunk guy managed to shove the door in just recently, and the landlord promised to install a deadbolt, but that hasn’t happened yet. Not something I’ll be admitting to Luca, though.

"And I didn't think you’d let me in,” he admits, completely unapologetic.

"You’re right. I wouldn’t have." I push off from the doorframe, needing to get away from him. To be alone. My voice wavers, and I hate it. "I'm exhausted, Luca. I've had the worst night of my life. Maybe you’re used to this kind of thing, but I’m not."

Luca doesn't move. He just sits there, watching me in the dim light, taking in my every movement, every emotion. Judging me. I hate it but force myself not to squirm under his scrutiny. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

"I needed to make sure you were okay."

A laugh escapes me, sharp and humorless. "By scaring the shit out of me?” I shake my head.

Luca stands, and the room seems to shrink. I forgot how tall he is. He's every bit as imposing as I remember, more so now that he's filled out. Even in the dim light, I can see the way his shirt strains across muscles that weren't there before.

Damn it, he looks good.

“That’s exactly why I’m here. This is my world, Sienna, and I know how this works better than you do.”

Waiting for more, I keep quiet, stubbornly refusing to give him what he wants. My curiosity.

"Someone tried to kill me tonight, and you were standing right next to me when it happened.”

He edges closer, and it takes all the energy I have to muster up some attitude. “And?”

“And you saw them.”