24

24
Arabella

The ghost of Six’s lips still burned on mine, and I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet.

My body was suspended in the moment, somewhere between disbelief and a dizzying warmth that made my head spin.

I was barely aware of the space between us now, barely registering that he had pulled away.

And then—

“Bella.”

My eyes snapped open at the sound of Marco’s voice.

Panic slammed into me at full force. A small gasp escaped my lips.

He was standing in the doorway, his eyes bouncing between me and Six. His expression was unreadable. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

Six was doing a good job of pretending, standing at my bedside with his hands behind his back, a natural at this, but me?

I was frozen still, my lips still plump, and my neck? I pulled the neckline of my dress closer, wondering if my neck was red at this point.

My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might leap out of my chest. Not just because of what had almost happened— what had happened— Six’s soft lips moving against mine, but because of the way Marco looked.

He was drenched in blood.

His once-crisp white shirt was splattered with it, dark red streaks staining the fabric in thick, dried patches. Even his hands were smeared in it.

I had no idea whose blood it was.

But Marco? Marco didn’t seem the least bit bothered.

He took a step toward me. Six remained stiff at my side, silent, the blank expression back on his face like he wasn’t the one smiling and smirking at me only moments ago.

Marco’s gaze settled back on me, his expression softening slightly. “How are you feeling, Bella?”

His voice was gentle. The calm before the storm. I didn’t trust him or his kindness—not one bit.

I swallowed, but my throat was dry. I still hadn’t moved, hadn’t made a sound, not even when he crouched beside me, reaching out.

His fingers were still wet when they brushed against my cheek. The metallic scent of blood tickled my nose.

I flinched.

It was instinctive.

Marco’s expression darkened. His hand hovered in the air for a moment before he slowly let it drop.

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t lash out, didn’t explode like I expected. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and sighed.

“I spoke with the doctor, of course,” he began, his tone suddenly businesslike. “They can’t say for sure, but it could be poison. Or just a stomach infection. The dosage, if it was poison, wasn’t meant to kill you.”

Six and I exchanged a small look.

Marco continued. “I was worried when I saw you collapse,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “Do you have any idea what that did to me? The anger I felt?”

His eyes darkened. “At the thought of losing you? I would have killed every person in that room if something worse had happened to you—no questions asked, no hesitation.”

I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

All I could think about was the blood.

His clothes. His hands. The blood he had smeared on my cheek.

And the way he hadn’t even acknowledged it yet.

I must have been staring because he followed my gaze, and only then did realization seem to dawn on him.

He let out a low chuckle, as if the blood soaking into his clothes was nothing more than an afterthought.

“Oh, don’t worry, mi amore (my love),” he murmured. “This isn’t mine.”

That wasn’t what I was worried about.

I didn’t care if he was hurt.

I cared about whose blood it was. The person that had fallen into his hands in the early hours of the morning.

My stomach twisted violently, the nausea crawling up my throat. My throat felt constricted.

My vision blurred slightly, hot tears pricking my eyes. Marco watched me, tilting his head slightly, amused.

“Do you want to know whose blood this is?”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t want to know.

But Marco told me anyway.

“It belongs to that bastard who tried talking to you at the party.”

My breath hitched.

It didn’t click immediately.

But then—

The party. The young man who had approached me, complimented my dress. We had spoken for less than five minutes.

My entire body went cold.

Marco saw the recognition dawn on my face and smiled, slow and satisfied.

“Of course, you remember him,” he murmured. “Usually, I don’t bring my work home. But he was already at my house, and it was easier to just…” He chuckled. “You understand, don’t you?”

No.

No, I didn’t.

I was shaking now, but Marco was waiting for an answer.

So I nodded.

Because I had to.

His smirk widened, and his bloodied hand cupped my cheek again, fingers streaking red across my skin.

“Of course you do.”

I wanted to be sick.

His grip was gentle, but his touch burned.

I could still taste Six on my lips, but Marco was close now, pressing in, his breath mingling with mine.

“You should know,” he murmured, his lips a breath away from mine, “I’d never desecrate our home with a bastard’s blood.”

The words made me want to scream. This wasn’t my home. There was no “our” when it concerned Marco and me. I needed to get out of here.

Marco turned then, his attention shifting to Six, who was still standing behind him, still watching.

“Leave us.”

Six hesitated.

For a brief moment, I thought—hoped—he might refuse. That he might stay.

But then he glanced at me, something unreadable in his gaze, and walked away.

And then it was just Marco and me.

Alone.

His lips touched mine.

I froze.

The blood from his hands smeared against my skin, the metallic scent of it filling my senses.

I wanted to recoil, to push him away, but I couldn’t.

Marco deepened the kiss, and something twisted inside me, sharp and raw.

Tears spilled from my eyes.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me, and his smirk widened when he saw my tears.

He liked this.

He liked the way I trembled beneath him. He was getting a thrill out of smearing blood all over me.

When he leaned in again, I forced my voice to work, my mind scrambling for an excuse, anything to make him stop.

“I—” My voice cracked. “I’m still tired.”

Marco paused.

I clung to the lie. “I don’t feel well.” I swallowed thickly, trying to sound convincing. “I—I think I need to rest. I still feel weak, and the headache.”

He studied me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching my face. “Surely, you know, Bella, that you can’t evade me forever.”

I froze.

“I am going to have you,” his voice had dropped to a whisper, “I’m going to have every inch of your body when I want and how I want it. I’m only biding my time…”

Then, finally, he exhaled and leaned back slightly, his smirk softening. “Take care of yourself, Mi amore (my love).”

His thumb brushed over my cheek once more before he pulled away completely.