Vittorio continued to stroke her soft inner thigh, realizing that for the first time in his life, he needed the connection with a woman. He had never felt a need bordering on desperation until he faced losing Grace. He’d always had his family, his brothers and sister, and they had formed a unit so strong, when he was younger, he hadn’t thought he would ever need anyone else. Loneliness taught him otherwise. Grace had filled all those lonely places, replacing them with laughter and conversation. She’d given him the purpose he needed there in his home to maintain his balance in a world of stark duty.
“I had a younger brother, Ettore, born just eleven months after Emmanuelle. He had respiratory problems when he was born, and the problems worsened as he grew. He was always weaker, although he tried so hard to follow the dictates of our training regimen. We all started instruction at age two. Everything is about training from that point on. For Ettore, it became a nightmare of being yelled at and being unable to do something so simple as breathe. The worse his respiratory problems became, the more was demanded of him to make him stronger. No matter what the rest of us said, or did, he was expected to keep up.”
He didn’t realize his fingers had closed around her thigh like a vise. She didn’t wince, not even when his grip bit into her leg. He let her go the instant he realized what he was doing. “I’m sorry, mia amore, I have a difficult time when it comes to those memories. All of us do. “
Her fingers sifted through his hair, her touch soothing. “You didn’t hurt me.”
He was a very strong man. He hoped what she said was true and he rubbed at the smudge marks left behind on her skin. “Ettore’s life was a nightmare. Nothing he did was ever good enough. We tried to shield him, but one had to be perfect in all things. Always. If you fell below Eloisa’s high standards, your life was hell. Ettore lived in hell.”
“What about your father? Couldn’t he stop her?”
“Phillip couldn’t care less about any of us. He wasn’t a rider, not in the sense of one who dispensed justice. He wasn’t trained. It was an arranged marriage and the two barely spoke. He certainly didn’t bother with us, and he would never have gone against Eloisa in training us as riders. Stefano took care of us. He wasn’t that much older, but he still acted as our parent, both mother and father.”
“That explains a lot about him,” Grace murmured.
“Stefano tried to tell Eloisa that Ettore couldn’t be a rider, that his body wouldn’t take the punishment. You can be torn apart and it can be just too hard on a rider, but Eloisa insisted. No child of hers would dare be less than perfect. She sent him into the shadows when he had just turned sixteen. Stefano wasn’t there to stop her.”
He closed his eyes, memories of that terrible day washing over him. Choking him. He turned his head away from her, not willing for her to see that losing Ettore was still a raw wound that would never be healed, no matter how much time went by. “Stefano brought his body out and we buried him, but he took over as head of the family of riders. He’d always been the parent to us, and we all lost faith in Eloisa’s leadership. She was so driven to show the other rider families that we were perfect that she risked Ettore’s life.”
“I’m so sorry,” Grace murmured. “I really am. I understand the dynamics of your family a lot better. Even after seeing you do it, it’s difficult to believe someone could use shadows to get from one place to another. It’s easier to believe that there really is a way to move through the shadows when I listen to you talk. It’s clearly a way of life to you and there are obviously other families besides yours that are capable.”
“Mariko is from Japan. Her family, on her father’s side, were legendary riders. They’re all gone now, but she’s a strong rider.”
The grip grief had on him was lessening and he turned back to her. “I know Eloisa is harsh and can be as cold as ice. She shreds people and she must have done so to you when you tried working with her, but she saves her best work for us.”
Her hand cupped the side of his face and she leaned down. He kissed her. Her mouth was everything he needed. Hot and wild. Tantalizing. That elusive, incredible taste he was addicted to. She transported him instantly into a world of sensation, of feeling, every cell in his body alive. Electricity arced between them, little strikes crackling against his skin, spreading flames over him. Dark, erotic images filled his mind as a dark erotic taste filled his mouth. Heat spread throughout his body, fire burning down his spine and roaring like an inferno in his belly.