Matteo dead---

Kevin in a coma---

Estrella attacked---

The lack of sleep, the stress of having Domenico back in her life, and her inability to even eat because she couldn’t stop worrying about how tempted she was to let Domenico walk all over her again---all of it, combined with those bloodstained memories, made Misty faint.

“Misty!” Knowing he would be wounded because of what he was about to do but uncaring of it, Domenico ran towards Misty and straight into the path of Lysander’s sword.

“Fuck!” Lysander did his best to control the fall of his sword but knew it was too late.

Domenico did not stop running, did not even look as he hit the other man’s sword with his. It was not enough to completely prevent the blade from slicing against his shoulder – it was too late for that - but Domenico’s long experience on the battlefield allowed him to precisely execute a counter move, his sword flinging Lysander’s into the air afterwards.

“Misty!” He caught her just before she fell, beating even those closest to her.

She blinked, unable to understand why she was suddenly in his arms. “I’m---” Her eyes widened at the large bleeding gash on his shoulder. “You’re hurt!”

He did not even spare it a glance, his eyes raking over Misty’s face worriedly and not liking what he saw. “You’re too pale,” he said grimly instead. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Last night,” she answered reluctantly.

He cursed and immediately stood up, with her still in his arms. “You’re going to eat even if I have to force feed you.”

“But your wound---”

“Fuck my wound.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “No. Domenico, I won’t eat until we have it treated.” She pointed towards the Main Hall. “There’s a healing center---”

God save him from Faeries, Domenico thought. It was the f**king 21st century and they still could not bear to have a f**king modern hospital. It still had to be called a healing center. “That’s too far. I want you to eat now.” He scanned the area rapidly and zeroed in the armory. “There. Will it be too much to hope that they would have a first aid kit there?” Normally, Lyccans were quick to heal but since he was wounded by a special type of sword – one that only Faeries could wield – Domenico knew that even his Lyccan blood would not offer him a speedy healing.

“But---” She sighed when Domenico just looked at her, his face stoic. She knew that look. “Okay, the armory then. They have a first aid kit there, and will you put me down for God’s sake?”

He gave her another look.

She frowned. “Stop that. I’m not your wife anymore.”

Yet another look, even more stoic this time.

The Faeries who managed to hear their conversation as Domenico walked past them were giving Misty odd looks, as if unable to believe that she dared argue with the Moretti prince. Or maybe they were just shocked that she was able to admit that she was no longer his wife.

Either way, she hated those looks. She really did. It reminded her of all those times she had been bullied in the past, had deliberately played the wimp because it was the safer way. Sixteen long months of trying to be strong were completely ruined just after spending a few days in Domenico’s company. None of the Faeries had looked at her this way until Domenico came along.

“I hate you,” she whispered, unable to help it. But the moment she said the words, she wanted to take it back.

Domenico turned to her as they reached the gates of the armory.

She held her breath.

“I love you.”

Misty turned her head away quickly, not wanting Domenico to see just how those words hurt. He was so, so sly – maybe even more manipulative than he had ever been. How did he always know what to say to make her break down completely?

There was only one guard inside the armory, and he almost tumbled out of his desk in his haste to salute Domenico.

“Get some food for my wife. Now.”

Domenico’s voice lashed out like a whip, and the guard nearly ran past him, his nervousness making him salute and bow to Domenico at the same time before leaving.

When the gates snapped close, Misty said, “Stop saying I’m your wife.”

He didn’t say anything, instead gently lowering her to the most comfortable place he could find in the armory, which was nothing more but a squeaking padded bench that the soldiers used for working out.

Misty bit her lip, wanting to take the words back again but too proud to do so. Domenico’s silence made her feel so childish and petty, which consequently made her feel defensive and angry.

Outside, the clashing of swords continued to ring in the air. Briefly, Misty wondered where Lysander was and whether he was okay. “You shouldn’t have hurt Lysander like that,” she heard herself saying. “I was really worried about him.” Misty almost winced after. How the mighty had fallen! Was she truly trying to make Domenico feel…what? Jealous over a g*y man?

She waited for Domenico to laugh at her, but if anything his eyes flashed, a sure sign of his temper.

That made her angry, and she lashed out without thinking, “Can’t you leave me alone? Don’t you know I don’t want you here?” Misty couldn’t believe what she was saying. It was like a she-devil had taken over her body.

But still Domenico didn’t answer. Instead, he was calmly pulling his shirt off, and she bit back a cry when she saw how worse his wound was. She stood up and immediately fell back to the bench with another little cry, shocked at how the world around her whirled.

Domenico was back at her side in a flash, kneeling in front of her as he stroked her back. “Easy, cara.”

Her eyes stung. It had been a very long time since Misty had heard him call her that. It meant Italian for ‘darling’, and she used to think it was terribly sweet of him to call her that.

“You’re still too weak. Don’t move. Just rest there and wait for the food.”

She pointed towards the cabinets above the unused armors. “The first aid kit.”

A little smile touched his lips, softening the harsh lines of Domenico’s beautiful face. “Was that why you tried to stand up?”

Realizing how she had given herself away, she clamped her lips shut and didn’t answer.

He laughed. “Concerned for me, are you?” He straightened in one graceful move, and Misty couldn’t help gawking when he turned his back, allowing her to feast on the beauty of his muscled back. God, he was so much sexier now. How was that possible?

Tags: Marian Tee The Moretti Werewolf Vampires