Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles Book 2)

KIARA

Nino didn’t say anything on our drive home. I kept glancing at him but his eyes were closed. There was a cut over his cheekbone, and the skin around it was swelling. At least it wasn’t bleeding.

Remo watched us occasionally through the rearview mirror as he drove his car, but he didn’t say anything.

When we walked into the mansion, Nino headed straight toward our wing. Remo gripped my wrist before I could follow.

I flinched, but he didn’t release me. “Will you stop this shit?” he growled. I forced myself to meet his angry gaze. “Keep an eye on my brother. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Usually he would analyze the fight like a fucking computer program right after. That he’s like this is a fucking bad sign.”

“Has he ever been like this?” I asked.

Something in Remo’s eyes shifted as if he was remembering something. He loosened his grip. “Just keep a fucking eye on him.”

I turned and continued toward our wing of the mansion then upstairs into the bedroom. Nino was perched on the edge of the bed, arms propped up on his legs as he stared down at the ground. He was completely naked.

I approached him, but he didn’t move. Slowly, I raked my finger through his still damp hair, and finally he raised his eyes to meet mine. “I want you,” he said quietly.

Leaning forward, I kissed him, my fingernails scratching his scalp, making him shudder and release a low breath. He tugged at my jeans and pushed them down my legs. I wasn’t wearing panties. He leaned forward and kissed my hipbones, biting down lightly and making me jump. Then he soothed the spot with his tongue. Slowly, he trailed his tongue down from my hipbones to my upper thigh and then between my legs.

I gasped when he slipped his tongue between my folds. I was already aroused, but the feel of his mouth against my heated flesh increased it even further. Nino hooked a palm under my knee and lifted my leg, propping it up on the bed and opening me for him.

Watched him through half-closed eyes, his lips moved over my folds and his tongue slid along my crease, tasting me. His eyes met mine, and I couldn’t look away despite the embarrassment heating my cheeks. Never taking his gaze off me, he ran the tip of his tongue up and down before he circled my clit.

“Nino,” I gasped, parting my legs wider, needing to feel more of his mouth on me. He buried his face in my lap, his mouth closing over my folds as his tongue worked me. His hands cupped my ass, and he massaged my cheeks, pushing me even harder against his face. I couldn’t hold back anymore, starting to shake and rocking my hips almost desperately as I held on to Nino’s shoulders. My moans spurred him on, and he licked and nibbled greedily until I was sure I’d come again, but then he pulled away, his face glistening with my arousal.

His eyes were alight with desire. I quickly pulled my shirt over my head then bit my lip. “How?” I asked quietly.

He curled a hand over my hip and tugged me toward the bed. I climbed on top of the mattress. “Lie down on your side,” Nino instructed in a low voice.

Surprised, I stretched out, my back facing Nino. He lay down behind me and pressed up against my body, his erection digging into my butt. I tensed. His mouth grazed my ear. “Trust me. I’m not going to do anal, Kiara.”

I felt foolish but nodded. Nino slid one arm under me then lifted my upper leg with his other and moved it slightly back so my foot rested on his strong calf. Then he pressed his pelvis against my butt, and I felt his tip nudge my opening. He changed the angle slightly and slowly slid in. I arched back against him.

He didn’t go as deep in this position, but I loved the feel of his chest against my back, his hot mouth against my shoulder and neck, his arms around me from behind. His movements were slow, but his tip seemed to rub my clit from the inside, and when he trailed his hand down between my legs, I released a low moan.

“This position okay for you?” he rasped against my ear as his next stroke hit me even deeper.

“Yes,” I gasped.

Nino’s closeness, his warm embrace, his soft kisses along my shoulder blade … they made this perfect. Nino cupped my breast, fingers tweaking my nipple as his other hand worked nimbly between my legs. He slammed into me over and over again, slow, precise strokes that curled my toes and made my eyes roll back with pleasure.

It was beautiful and breathtaking, and I let myself fall completely. I trusted Nino without reservation to guide me over the edge, to take care of me, and he did.

I tightened as my release hit me, and I cried out Nino’s name. He rasped mine into my ear, the word almost desperate as he spilled inside me moments after my orgasm. He didn’t pull back, holding me closely against his body, still buried deep inside of me.

He eased out of me, and I turned in his embrace. I lightly traced the skin around the cut in his cheekbone then the blooming bruises over his ribs. He tensed under my touch.

“Sorry,” I breathed. “Are you in a lot of pain? Clearly, I have nothing better to do than to rub myself against you when you’re bruised.”

He tangled his hand in my curls, regarding me with an unreadable expression. “I was the one who initiated sex, Kiara. I wanted you. I…” He trailed off, brows pulling together “…I’ve survived many fights. I’ll be healed in a few days.”

I didn’t say anything, only snuggled against Nino’s chest, careful not to apply pressure to his ribs. I kissed his shoulder blade, and uttered in my head the words I’d never say aloud again. I love you.

A low noise I couldn’t place tore me from sleep. Even with Nino beside me, I was a light sleeper, quick to wake from the slightest noise. I stared into the dark and there it was again: a throaty sound full of dark despair. What was that?

A wave of fear shot through me when a familiar tone caught my attention.

Nino? Was that Nino?

The sound stirred memories within me, but I pushed them aside and rolled over. In the dark, I couldn’t make out more than the outline of Nino’s back, but the bed was shaking from the force of his body tremors.

“Nino?” I whispered, but my voice was so hesitant and quiet I could barely hear it.

My first instinct was that it had to be a seizure, something physical because it seemed impossible that emotions forced these sounds out of Nino. These throaty inhales—not moans, not gasps, but something in between—were full of emotion. I didn’t understand. Slowly, I sat up, unsure if I should wake him, completely at loss what to do. Nino was always in control. He was control.

Reached over to my bedside, I turned on the light, needing to see him and at the same time terrified of it. Nino was lying on his side, shaking, one hand curled around the edge of the bed, clutching it tightly; his brows formed one hard line and his forehead was covered in sweat.

My fingers shook as I reached for him. My God, what was going on with him?

The second my fingertips brushed his shoulder, his eyes flew open and the look in them made me recoil. Nino lunged for the knife on his bedside table, clutching it in his hand as he staggered out of bed. His gaze pinged around the room then settled on me, the way I was pressed up against the headboard in confusion and fear. His legs gave out. Pressing the knife to his chest, he bent forward, braced against the ground with one arm, heaving deep breaths.

“Nino?” I whispered, crawling to the edge of the bed.

Nino said he wasn’t capable of emotions, that he couldn’t feel, but in his eyes and on his face was pure unbridled emotion. And he couldn’t handle it, didn’t know how. Maybe this was the first time in a long time that he was submitted to something like that.

His back was heaving, arms shaking, and somehow in the diffused glow of the bedside lamp, his tattoos seemed to come alive, the inked flames leaping up, the contorted faces mocking yet agonizing at the same time.

My throat clogged with emotion, helpless and terrified and worried that this was it, that something had snapped Nino’s sanity—whatever was left of it. My love for him didn’t make me blind to the truth: the Nino and Remo both were messed up in a way that couldn’t be resolved with a few pills and countless sessions with a shrink. Something awful had twisted them into what they were today, twisted Nino’s emotions into a tight knot. Something had managed to untie it. Seeing him like this made me think that maybe there had been a good reason why his mind and body had tied that knot in the first place.

I slid out of bed and approached Nino hesitantly, but he jerked his head to the side. “Remo,” he croaked. Then it got louder, more desperate. “Get Remo!”

Stumbling toward the door, I ripped it open and ran down the corridor. My heart beat in my throat and my bare feet smacked loudly against the cold granite. What was going on with Nino?

Fear, raw and unhinged, rushed through me. What if I lost Nino to whatever this was?

I crossed over into the east wing, Remo’s domain. I’d never been there before and I knew I wasn’t welcome, but Nino needed his brother, so no matter how scared I was of Remo, I would get him.

It took me a moment to get my bearings in the unfamiliar part of the house. I wasn’t sure where Remo’s bedroom was and with only minimal moonlight streaming in through the window at the end of the corridor, it was difficult to make out more than the hazy outlines of doors. Panicking, I ripped open the first door, and even in the dark I could make out the shape of a bed. An old smell hung in the air, something dusty and abandoned. Nobody had lived there in a while.

There were so many rooms in this house, I’d never find him in time. I felt the wall for a light switch, but my body shook and I couldn’t get my bearings. The dark was beginning to close in on me, but I moved on to the next door, my finger curling around the handle. Then there was a warm breath against my ear and a low murmur. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I screamed and lashed out instinctively, my hand colliding with a stubble-covered chin a moment before I realized whom I’d just hit. A strong hand clamped down on my wrist. I stilled, suddenly glad for the dark because it hid Remo’s expression from me.

“Let me go,” I whispered, voice shaking.

He released me, and I stepped back. “I’m sorry for hitting you,” I got out. “You scared me.”

He remained silent for another moment, towering over me with that unsettling vibe of violence. “Answer my question,” he ordered.

“It’s Nino. I don’t know what’s happening with him. He’s upset.”

“Upset,” Remo said doubtfully.

“Remo, please, can you turn on the light.” I swallowed. “It’s making me nervous being in the dark with you.”

He shifted and his arm brushed mine, then light flooded the corridor. When my eyes grew accustomed to the blinding light, Remo came into focus, tall and naked except for briefs. His eyes slid down my body, dressed only in my thin nightgown, before they returned to my face. His chin was slightly red from when I’d hit him.

“I’m losing my patience here, Kiara.”

“Nino needs your help!” I said annoyed, because there was no way I could explain Nino’s situation to him. And finally something went through to him, and he turned around and began running. I had absolutely no chance to catch up with him with his long legs.

Panting, I arrived in our bedroom a couple of minutes later.

Remo was kneeling beside his brother, who was on the ground, his hand on Nino’s shoulder. They both looked like fallen angels with their curved backs, their scars and tattoos, the muscles formed from years of fighting. Remo’s fallen angel on his back with the broken wings had never made more sense than it did now.

“What’s happening?” I croaked, and Remo looked up from where he knelt beside his brother. For a moment he looked as helpless, as terrified as I felt, and that sight undid me because this was Remo, this was a man always commanding, always hard and powerful and cruel and not afraid of anything. It came almost as a relief when he narrowed his eyes at me, his mouth pulling into a twisted smile, as if this was my fault, as if without realizing it, I had broken Nino even though I held nowhere close to the power over him to do so.

“Get out,” Remo growled, but I didn’t want to leave. “Get out!” he snarled, and I knew he’d make me if I didn’t, so I rushed out and ran along the corridor, down the stairs, and into our living room, which wasn’t really called that because most living room activities took place in the shared area of the mansion when all the brothers were together. This was my sanctuary and sometimes Nino’s when he tried to simulate affection for me.

I sank down on the piano bench. My fingers instantly found the keys, needing to feel their cool smoothness. The first notes of the song I’d written for Nino rang out. Desperate, drawn-out, low notes in the beginning then hesitant, higher notes, lighter notes until the melody seemed almost excited in their staccato, followed by overwhelming, high-pitched notes until finally the melody became a gentle flow, a song of acceptance, but this ending seemed wrong now, and my fingers moved on, the notes reaching higher and higher, filling me up until my emotions created this melody.

I breathed harshly as Nino’s despair became music, as my fear let the melody burst through me with hard, short notes. Emotion was everywhere and I could not stop and felt like this was the only way I could get through this.

Heavy steps sounded and my fingers slid off the keys as Remo stalked into the room and toward me, still only in his briefs and a look of murder on his face. I stiffened but didn’t follow my impulse to run. Instead, I lowered my shaking hands to my lap and returned Remo’s gaze. He stopped halfway into the room as if he was torn between anger and despair, but then he bridged the remaining distance between us, dwarfing me with his height and sheer, brutal presence.

He leaned down, and I drew back but didn’t look away. “What the fuck did you do?” he rasped.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said. What could I have possibly done to unhinge Nino like that? I was only a woman. I didn’t have any power over him.

“Bullshit.”

“Remo, leave her alone.” It was Nino’s voice, strangled, raw, and yet cool and controlled. I sagged with relief. Remo stepped back from me and turned to his brother, opening my view to Nino as well.

Like Remo, Nino was only in briefs, and yet there were layers over layers of barriers I could never bridge. His expression was the blank canvas I’d grown used to, but there was something haunted, something hunted in his gray eyes as he stared at Remo; a look passed between the brothers that spoke of horrors I could not grasp, a look that made me realize that one brother could never be without the other.

Whatever had shaped them into ice and fire, it had also forged them together in a way that couldn’t be broken. Maybe Nino had become the cold flood against Remo’s raging inferno. Perhaps Remo was the outlet for emotions Nino had locked behind impenetrable walls. I couldn’t and would never be able to understand these two men.

Nino tore his eyes away from his brother and looked at me. My chest tightened with relief and warmth, and I wanted to go to him and hug him, wanted to soothe him with words, give him comfort with my touch, but Nino wasn’t like that. He didn’t need comfort, or tenderness, or love…

“Play that song again,” he said quietly.

I touched my fingertips to the keys and began the song, a song that wasn’t just a string of notes but a gaping hole in my heart. Nino approached me slowly, and as he did, Remo backed away a few steps but kept watching us.

Nino lowered himself beside me on the bench, but I didn’t stop playing. I closed my eyes and let the music flow, wishing he could understand that this song encompassed everything I felt for him, everything I’d ever felt for him. Then new notes rang out, and my eyes jerked open, my fingers faltering as Nino began to play the song as well. What?

He added his own notes, and I realized it was on purpose. I joined in and played my melody, the two melodies seeming to flow around each other. It was more beautiful than anything I’d ever heard. Nino’s eyes were on my face as he played the song from memory without faltering, but I had to return my gaze to the keys because I couldn’t understand the look in his eyes.

Remo met my gaze briefly over the piano, and his expression was just as unreadable. Then he turned around and left. I didn’t understand any of this, but hearing Nino’s melody merge with mine, creating something inexplicably beautiful … it felt like a gift.

Nino and I played until the sun rose over the mansion and filled the room with light. Our melody had evolved, a string of beautiful notes, and my heart seemed to burst with emotions when our fingers finally lifted off the keys. Nino looked exhausted, and my own body yearned for sleep too, but at the same time, I felt like screaming my feelings from the rooftops.

I stood and took Nino’s hand. His cool gaze flitted up to me. “Let’s go to bed,” I whispered.

Something shifted in his eyes as if for once there was something that scared him, as if he didn’t trust himself while asleep.

“We don’t have to sleep, but you need to rest for a bit,” I told him, and finally he got up from the piano bench and followed me upstairs.

Nino lay down, and I stretched out beside him, close but not touching. I wanted to press up against him, give him closeness. In the past he’d held me to comfort me, not because he required that kind of attention.

My gaze flickered across his face. His eyes were distant, and there was tightness to his mouth that suggested he was still fighting something within him.

I couldn’t hold back anymore and reached out for him, laying one hand hesitantly on his arm. It was ridiculous for me to be worried about touching him. We’d been closer than that, but I didn’t want to push something onto Nino if he didn’t want it just because it would have helped me.

His eyes zeroed in on me, and he lifted his arm so I could move closer, and I snuggled up to him, my hand coming to rest on his hard abs. I wished I knew if this was something he wanted, something he needed, or if he did it for me as part of his simulated affection.

I didn’t dare ask him what had caused this episode, or what he had seen in his mind to bring him to his knees like that, but the question burned on my tongue. Maybe one day he would tell me.