To Love a Shifter: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (40 page)

“Use your invisibility only as a last resort, Allard,” Domenico advised the younger man in a bored tone. “Since it takes up too much of your power, you should learn to use it wisely.”

The speed in which the other man had wounded him
twice
distracted Lysander, causing his invisibility to wear off, and Misty cried out when she saw the gash on his cheek.

Without looking at her, he murmured, “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine!” Misty blurted out. In fact, she thought he was a little crazy for taking on someone like Domenico. His family had its own
fighting
hall for heaven’s sake! And what did Lysander have? A
freaking dancing hall – literally!

She opened her mouth to beg Domenico to stop, but he still looked coldly furious, and any hopes she had of asking him to take it easy on her gay friend died with that look.

The two men were still circling each other. She wanted to stare at Lysander alone, but she couldn’t help glancing at Domenico once in a while, amazed at the coiled strength in him, the speed of his movements, and the grace with which he wielded his sword. It was her first time to see him in action, and although he did appear deadly, something inside her squeezed painfully still.
This
was nothing compared to the dangers he faced almost every day, protecting not just his own race but other non-human races as well.

She tried to stop herself from remembering all those nights he had hunted for vampires and came back bloody and dark. Seeing Domenico and Lysander now fighting each other with almost deadly intent made Misty remember the horrors of the past.

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 fucking 21
^st
century and they still could not bear to have a fucking 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 overhear 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 after spending only 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 them 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 over 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 gay 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 bad his wound was. She stood up and immediately fell back on the bench with another little cry, shocked at how the world whirled around her.

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 for a minute and wait for the food.”

She pointed towards the cabinets above the unused armor. “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?

“Of course not,” she finally remembered to protest even as she continued looking at Domenico. He still had his back to her, now rummaging through the contents of the cabinets. She licked her lips – at the same time Domenico turned back with a first aid kit in his hands.

The air around them immediately changed, the sexual tension between her and Domenico so thick it was impossible to breathe.

He strolled towards her slowly, as if giving her a chance to savor the sight of him bare-chested. Oh dear Lord, but she couldn’t help it. Misty
savored.

He took a seat next to her on the bench, close but not close enough for them to touch. He gave her the first aid kit. “Could you help me bandage it?”

Bandage?
Could she be his bandage instead so that she could wrap herself around him?

His eyes widened.

Shick. Had she just said those words out loud?

Domenico opened his mouth.

“Shut up.” It was her first time to say that to him. In fact, it was probably his first time to hear someone have the audacity to say that to him.

But Domenico didn’t even blink. He snapped his mouth shut obediently, not saying a thing.

That made Misty suspicious and after washing his wound clean, she peered at his face, unable to help it.

Domenico smiled, and everything in it told her how he was just waiting for her – how he wanted her to act on her desires, to take his cock into her mouth, squeeze it between her breasts, pull it inside her sex---

She turned red.

When Domenico laughed, she couldn’t help it, slapping the gauze hard against his wound.

“Oww!” Domenico didn’t know if he wanted to scowl or laugh at how petty her mode of revenge was.

“Serves you right,” she mumbled.

After a few seconds, Domenico’s lips twitched. “You weren’t like this in the past.” He then added softly, “I like it. I’m glad you’ve become even stronger.”

She busied herself with keeping the gauze in place. “You mean I was such a wimp before.”

“No.” Domenico surprised her with the swiftness, the hardness, of his denial. “You were never that, Misty. Your strength was unique – a quiet but undefeatable one – but this time you have become more confident. And I’m glad for it.”