Malachi had made a terrible mistake, and it wasn’t just trying to shoot Luis. In publicly tossing aside the rules of the Games, which held that the winner’s right to the prize couldn’t be contested, he’d not only started a catastrophic brawl but damaged his reputation severely.
Syndicate vampires couldn’t claim to have much by way of honor, but what they did possess, they held sacred. Malachi had spat in the face of that threadbare honor. There wouldn’t be a soul in the syndicate who didn’t hear of it by dusk.
Milo leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “No. Took a knock and might have some scrapes on her knees, but she’s fine.” A quick glance at the blood soaking through his shirt made Milo’s lips thin. “I’m calling the doc. You need real fucking stitches, idiot.”
“Fine,” he grunted, already walking toward his bedroom. “If Easton so much as twitches, one of you shoot him.”
Ignoring the sputtering, babbling cause of everyone’s problems, Luis stalked down the hallway to throw open the doors of his bedroom.
Truthfully, he didn’t really call the penthouse home. It was more of a crash pad where he brought his subs and sometimes hosted parties. Mostly he called the Amauri Estate home, chaotic and filled with nosy family as it was.
It was only after he stumbled across his new housecleaner that he began spending any real time there — and it was only Francesca’s presence that made it feel like ahome.
It was a sight to behold, seeing his girl bundled under some of his blankets onhisbed.
She propped herself up against the headboard and had wrapped the plain gray comforter around her shoulders. Her face was all streaked makeup and blood peeking out from her little blanket cocoon, but there were no visible bruises or cuts.
Francesca watched him enter silently. Her eyes looked huge in her slightly ashen face.
He closed and locked the door, more for his peace of mind than any real worry that someone would dare to enter. At that moment, he didn’t feel the pain of his numerous cuts and contusions. There was only the profound relief of seeing her safe where she belonged.
And mine.
Because he’dwon.Fair and square. One lucky swipe across Bite’s chest and it was done. No one, not even Malachi, could take her from him now.
Luis sucked in a calming breath through his somewhat bloody nose. His steps were measured as he crossed the room to approach the bed. Her wide eyes tracked him but she didn’t say a word.
All he wanted to do was crawl onto the bed, press her down into the mattress, and fall asleep with her protected under his bulk. But they had business to finish, so that would have to wait.
Sinking onto the edge of the mattress, he demanded, “Are you okay?”
In a classic Francesca move, she deflected, “I’m not the one bleeding.”
“You’re the only one I care about,” he shot back. Patting his thigh, he ordered, “Now be a good girl and come here.”
She made an adorably disgruntled face. “You’re really annoying.”
“So I’ve heard.” He patted his thigh again.
And gods bless her, she did it. Luis held his breath as she shed her blanket cocoon, revealing the devastating developmentthat she’d apparently abandoned her dress in favor of pilfering one of his undershirts.
He watched, hypnotized, as she crawled toward him in all her silky-legged, disheveled glory, and climbed into his lap. If she cared about the bloody, filthy state of him, she didn’t show it. Francesca threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself as tight to him as she was able.
“Are Max and Easton all right?”
He let out a noisy sigh. “Maxine came to her cousin’s rescue. Her hair’s a mess, but otherwise she’s fine. They’re both in the living room right now with Milo and Tomas.”
Curling more tightly into him, she asked, “What happened?”
“Malachi didn’t like being a loser,” he answered, his voice dropping with cold rage. “When his man lost, he had someone try to shoot me. Tomas saw what was happening and fucked up the man’s aim, but once the shot went off, everyone flipped the fuck out. Don’t ask me who started the fire or why, but I’m pretty sure half the mansion burned down while everyone else was busy throwing punches. I had a feeling some shit like that might happen, so I put my brother on bodyguard duty.”
“Someone tried to drag me out,” she told him, shuddering.
Luis stiffened. A sharp feeling cut through him, carving open a path for something hot and volatile to spill out. “What?”
Francesca nodded. “I was pulled out of the box. I didn’t recognize the guy, but when I broke one of his fingers, I saw it had a snake tattoo a lot like the ones on Malachi and his proxy.”
Motherfucker.