The Forbidden City: A Vampire Mafia Romance (The Last Deadblood Book 4) by Mary E. Twomey

Author:Mary E. Twomey [Twomey, Mary E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mary E. Twomey, LLC
Published: 2021-12-01T18:30:00+00:00

15

Suspect Bullet

Rome is standing in the center of my living room, which is no small relief. He is barking into his phone, his brows furrowed as he stands over the body of a man who is howling while holding his knee.

I don’t recognize the man on the floor. He’s got curly red hair with a bald patch on the back. He looks to be in his late forties, his freckles vivid against his pale skin while he grits his teeth through the pain of being shot in the knee.

When Rome catches sight of me in his periphery, he sends me a look of sheer exasperation. “You don’t need to see this, tré-sur. Go back into the kitchen. I will handle it.”

I bite down on my lower lip, ignoring his order. I should get far away from the threat of violence, but in this moment, all I care about is verifying with my own two eyes that no part of Rome has been harmed.

I flit to his side, unable to remain stoic when my heart is beating this erratically. I surprise us both when my arms go around him, anxiety flooding my system. Rome tells the person on the phone to get here now. Then he ends the call and slides his phone into his pocket.

With the gun trained on the intruder, Rome wraps his free arm around me, pressing my filthy body to his side. He kisses the top of my head, shushing my worries with his calm assurances. “It’s okay, little cannoli. I will never let anyone take you ever again. You are safe, do you hear me?”

I burrow my face into the meat of his shoulder. “I don’t care about me,” I admit. “I was worried he shot you! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Rome’s hand knows how to be gentle even in the roughest of circumstances. His thumb traces the curve of my hip, which I know is one of his favorite places on my body. “I have you in my arms. Even if I was seconds away from death, I would not be in any pain.”

I should let go of him, but I’m not sure I am physically able to unfurl my fist from his white shirt.

Rome doesn’t rush me. Though he just shot a man, his touch is gentle. He even goes so far as to sway slightly to rock my worries into a dull roar. How he can maim someone and then find enough stillness in his soul to settle mine is beyond me.

“Did he hurt you?” I whisper while the man on the floor screams. He is bleeding all over my carpet, but his shrieks are mere background noise.

“He didn’t lay a finger on me, tré-sur. Didn’t I promise I would keep you safe?”

I blink up at Rome, overwhelmed by his beauty when he is this close. “But who keeps you safe?”

He stares into my eyes, drinking in my concern as if it is the one thing he has been struggling to survive without.

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