Chapter 4

◆◆ RAFAELE ◆◆

“Heard you bought the human girl… Made her your pet and all.”

My father’s voice drips with mockery as he lounges across from me in my casino’s VIP suite, a half-naked stripper straddling his lap, her neck bleeding beneath his harsh fangs.

I don’t look at him. My gaze stays on the pole where Petra, my favorite blood bag, spins slowly—naked from the waist up in high heels. She gives me that seductive look of hers as she presses her chest to the pole, silently offering herself.

It would’ve worked before. But not today.

I raise my wineglass instead, and she huffs her disappointment, twirling on the pole.

“News travels fast, Papà,” I reply flatly.

He wipes the blood off his lips with a silk napkin. “Don’t know why you still keep that one around,” he nods toward Petra on the pole. “She eyes you like a bitch in heat. It’s pathetic.”

“I like her,” I mutter.

“You should be more careful,” he says, exhaling smoke. “Everyone in Taormina’s talking. A girl you bought at an auction? A million dollars? That’s not subtle.”

“She’s mine to punish.”

“You think the other Dons won’t care that she’s… special?” He leans forward, eyes sharp now. “What happens if they find out about her blood? That you’re keeping a living weapon?”

I grit my teeth. He’s not wrong—and I hate that.

“You told me about her,” I remind him.

“I told you she exists. I didn’t tell you to turn her into your pet.”

He sits back, flicking ash from his cigar as a dancer leans into his legs.

“You think the hunters won’t hear about this? If they do, they’ll swarm Sicily. Tear her apart to study what’s in her blood. Or kill her outright. And you know we’re no match for them.”

“You don’t care if they come for me.”

He smiles. Of course he doesn’t.

“What I care about is not losing power because my idiot son can’t keep his cock or his teeth to himself.”

“What do you want, old man?” I snap. “I know you didn’t come here just to lecture me.”

His eyes gleam like he’s savoring something. “Romano’s back.”

The words hang heavy in the air and my pulse spikes a notch.

He dares say that name in my presence?

“Now I know you two have your differences—”

“Differences?” I laugh darkly. “He killed Lydia. Your daughter, for fuck’s sake.”

“He had no choice, Rafaele. It was his first transformation. He needed to feed.”

I stared at my father in disgust. Even now, after all this time, he still defends the wolf.

I stand and make my way to the exit, but his mocking voice stops me.

“You’re being a whiny little bitch, Rafaele.”

With my back to him, I respond, “You can tell that son of yours to suck it.”

And with that, I walk out of the lounge as the music gets louder.

“Rafaele! Wait,” I hear Petra’s call, but I don’t bother stopping. She can hitch a ride back to the estate in her car, for God’s sake.

“Matteo!”

“Ye—yes, boss.”

“Stop squirming like an idiot and get the car ready,” I snap at my sire as we walk out of the casino, past the VIP lounge into the main club filled with smoke, pounding music, and sweaty humans.

“Your father’s still—?”

“I have no business with that man.”

I slide into the back seat of my BMW, slamming the door behind me.

“Shit… You haven’t said where we’re going, sir.”

He glances at me in the rearview mirror—and goes pale. If that’s even possible.

“Tonight?” he echoes, reading my expression. “You want to feed on her tonight? I don’t recommend—”

I cut him off with a glare.

“She must have dinner with me. Besides, I want to know her better. I’ll make it enjoyable for her.

I only inflicted pain on her last week as a form of punishment.”

I grab a cigar from the compartment of my car and light it, taking a long drag.

“But were you seriously expecting her to just—stay? Come on, boss. The poor thing’s in distress. You almost drained her last time. Why did you make her your pet? You could’ve just made her work in your casino and still fed from her.”

“Aren’t you the detective, Matteo?” I mutter, eyes fixed on the passing trees.

I owed no one an explanation for making Aurelia my pet. Neither do I feel remorse for almost draining the life out of her.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I've just given her life.

The taste of her blood still clings to the inside of my mouth. It’s maddening. Addictive. If I don’t feed soon…

Reaching the tall, red-stoned walls of my estate, I step out of the car with Matteo beside me as some of my human guards make way, most of them bowing in slight greeting.

Using the last bit of my powers, I walk into the dark hallway, only half-illuminated by the moon, and vanish straight to my bedroom.

After a long shower, I go down for dinner.

Now, sleek matte sconces glow low along the hallway walls, painting the stone in warm gold.

I’m seated at the dining table with a huge spread before me, running my fingers along the rim of my wine glass, sparing a glance at the huge antique clock on the wall.

What the hell is taking her so long?

If she’s delaying on purpose—

The thoughts die as I smell Aurelia’s presence from the hallway stairs, accompanied by the loud thudding of her heartbeat.

As she comes closer, her thoughts instantly scream at me, and I almost laugh.

“Master,” she says, stepping fully into the dining room with her hands entwined and her gaze to her feet.

I pause, staring at her hourglass figure clad in a short black silk dress with a neckline plunging to her belly. After five days of not seeing her, she looks good. Too good.

She grows uneasy from my gaze, and I find myself wondering how many men have ever watched her this boldly, this hungrily

“Sit.”

I gesture toward the spread of food on the table and she doesn’t waste time grabbing the chair at the far end.

I laugh under my breath. “Not there.”

She freezes as I gesture to my thighs, and her heartbeat quickens. She spares me a glance as she steps closer. The warm chandelier casts more gold on her already golden mane of hair. The hatred in her eyes striking.

She perches, hesitant—like my thighs are made of blades but my hand tightens around her waist and she gasps in surprise as I drag her fully onto my lap.

Silence stretches as I lift a bite of steak to her lips. To my satisfaction, she accepts it without hesitation, and I watch the way her throat works as she swallows.

“Are you angry at me?” I ask at last, halfway through the dinner, but she stills, her mouth full of pasta. She gulps it down with a cup of water I place at her lips.

“I don’t have the right to be angry at you, Master,” is all she says.

“But I almost killed you,” I murmur low in her neck, and it’s as if she wants to pull away but tightens her grip on the fork instead.

“I deserved it, Master.”

Oh, so that’s how she wants to go at this?

I smirk into her neck, pressing my hands against her hot thighs.

“You’re terrible at hiding your thoughts, Piccolo.”

I tilt her chin. “Say it. Say what that little mind of yours is screaming.”

She gulps and makes a show of twirling pasta on her fork, only to stare down at an empty plate.

“What I think doesn’t matter. You’re just going to hurt me anyway,” she murmurs, and I study her face as she visibly tenses. My eyes are black at this point. It’s the hunger.

“I want us to have an understanding.” I glance at her empty plate. “Now that you’re done eating, would you permit me to feed from you?”

She gasps, and the next thing, she’s running to the other side of the table, fork pointed toward me.

“Stay away from me, you—you monster. Don’t come any closer—” she warns, and I almost laugh at her move.

“Really Piccolo? A fork? Things like this will only get you punished,” I say, leaning back.

“You’re a monster. You deserve to rot in hell.”

Hot tears cascade down her face, but in an instant, I command her—and the fork—back toward me.

It’s almost ridiculous watching her fight the invisible force pulling her back toward me.

“Even if you feed from me,” she chokes, and I wipe a tear from her face, “just know—my blood will taste bitter.”

She spits the words like venom and a smile curves across my face as I push her hair aside, waiting for her to stop me—but she doesn’t.

“I can manage” i murmur, Holding her waist down, my fangs pierce her skin, slowly this time into the vein pumping blood.

A groan tears from my lips as I drink—deeply.

She shudders, gripping the table, knuckles turning white as a sound rips from the back of her throat.

“Please st—”

The words die in her mouth as I clutch her tighter, her spine bowing under my strength.

She’s an open book and I can taste everything. Her hatred, fears, desires…

And I want more.

Her pulse is a drumbeat against my lips, a violent rhythm I can’t silence.

The room is gone.

The world is gone.

An image flashes into my mind… a young naked boy with a golden mask… behind him, a long furry tail swirls. I blink, and the image is gone.

I’m losing control… I can feel it, but I can’t stop… I can’t—not with the taste of her so good and my hunger left starving for five days—

“Rafaele! Enough! You’ll kill her!”

Marco’s voice cuts through the haze like steel. And the next moment, she’s gone.

He yanks her from my grip—tearing skin in the process.

My nails rip into his arm. He staggers. Bleeds. But doesn’t stop.

The fact that he succeeded means he used everything he had—and I still want to rip his throat out for it.

She collapses at his feet, blood soaking her dress. Her limbs twitch. Her pupils are blown wide as she gasps for air.

“I made it enjoyable.”

She avoids my gaze, shuddering as she hides behind Marco, gripping her bloody neck.

“She needs rest. Please, on my behalf. Just let her go to bed—”

“You dare pull her from me?” I snarl, rising so fast the chair splinters behind me. “She is mine. Mine to break. You have no right!”

The room swells with my aura—cold and crushing.

Marco flinches, but doesn’t back down.

“She’s innocent—”

“No, she’s not.”

My voice is low. Lethal.

With a flick of my power, I compel her limp body out of the hall—before she hears what I’m about to say.

Lunging toward Marco, I grab his collar and slam him so hard into the stone wall the entire sconce shatters beside his head.

“She’s the reason Caterina and Luciana got killed.”

The words taste like ash as the memory of her father’s men slaughtering my mother surges back—and all I want is to punish her for it.

Marco pales.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

I lean in, my voice now a growl in his ear

“She’s the hunter’s daughter.”