Chapter 141: A Naughty Husband and a Very Soft Heart

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I let out a noise that could only be described as my soul attempting to flee my body in search of a calmer existence.

"What the fuck, Dracula?!"

"What?" he asked, looking the picture of innocence, which was especially infuriating because I had seen him straight up toture people with far less innocence than he displayed now. "I mean you were quite loud."

I stared at him in horror and snatched the nearest pillow to smother my face. I lowered the pillow just enough to glare at him, which would have been far more effective if my face weren’t burning and my hair didn’t look like it had survived a hurricane.

"For the record, none of that was my fault, that wasn’t me." I declared with as much dignity as I could muster while tangled in his bedsheets. "That was all the heat! Did you fucking skip Sex Education classes back at school? When going through heats, Omegas aren’t in full control anymore, their inner biological instincts are, our inner, most suppressed desires come ou to the light! We become literal animals who only do stupid, horny shit!"

"Hmm." Lorenzo placed his finger on his chin, pretending to innocently think hard about the information I just yapped about. "Does that mean what you did to me for three days were the result of your fantasies, love? How long were you thinking of sucking me off, Alex?"

My jaw dropped, "I...uh..."

You know what...foget it. I had fucking lost this battle before it even began.

I rolled toward the edge of the bed, attempting a strategic escape before he could gather more evidence against me.

But the sheet wrapped around my legs, and my sore body protested the abrupt movement. I made it halfway across the mattress before getting hopelessly tangled and tumbling off the side like a sack of potatoes rolling down a staircase.

For a moment, I lay on the floor, staring at the underside of the bed.

This was it. This was how I would be remembered...not as a witty, educated man, but as Lorenzo Castelli’s husband who fell out of bed while trying to flee a conversation about his own romantic behavior.

"Alex?" Lorenzo’s voice carried a suspicious amount of amusement.

"I’m dead," I announced to the carpet. "Please tell the Sinclairs I died doing what I loved, which was sucking dick apparently."

I heard him laugh, a rich, genuine sound that filled the room and forced me to accept that at least one of us was enjoying my suffering and moments later, a hand appeared over the edge of the bed. "Come here, amore mio."

"No. I live here now."

"On the floor?"

"It’s peaceful. Nobody asks me embarrassing questions, and the carpet has agreed to respect my privacy."

"Very well." His hand caught mine, and before I could form a dramatic protest, he gently pulled me back onto the bed. I landed against his chest, and his arms wrapped around me before I could escape again. "You can stay here instead."

I considered arguing, but his warmth enveloped me, and his scent wrapped around me in that familiar comfort that had carried me through the worst of my heat.

"There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Alex. You were perfect." He said simply, as it was the most obvious truth in the whole world. "You were so desperate and beautiful. I enjoyed it as well."

My body responded before my pride could intervene, leaning into him as I tucked my head under his chin in an attempt to hid my red face and to breathe into the scent of him that still carried traces of my heat. I felt his arms tighten around me...not enough to trap me, but enough to convey his feelings clearly before he spoke.

"Ti amo con tutto il cuore," he murmured against my hair as his free hand slid up my back in a slow, soothing stroke, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin of my scent gland and sending a quiet, involuntary but silent purr rumbling through my chest before I could stop it.

I lifted my head slightly. "I caught the first part of that sentence, mostly because you’ve been calling me amore mio since we met. But I don’t speak enough Italian to understand the rest."

Lorenzo looked down at me, his green eyes warm with an expression that made me suspicious.

"So what does it mean, Dracula?" I asked.

He brushed my hair away from my forehead, his smile softening. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

I narrowed my eyes. "I could learn Italian just to find out what you said and then use my new skills to insult you in a language you’re not expecting."

"You could."

"And I would be really good at it."

"I have no doubt."

His fingers moved to the side of my neck, brushing over my scent gland, which was still annoyingly sensitive after the heat. The touch sent a pleasant shiver through me, and I let out an embarrassing loud purr this time.

I froze, did he hear this one?! Maybe he didn’t...

Lorenzo’s eyebrows shot up.

Oh shit, he heard!

"If you say a single word," I warned him.

Thankfully he only chuckled and kissed my forehead, clearly delighted, and I buried my face in his neck again before he could witness the rest of my pride evaporating.

His scent surrounded me, steady and familiar, and I found myself breathing him in without thinking as he lowered his head to brush his cheek against my hair.

We lingered like that for a while, exchanging quiet, instinctive touches that felt natural now, with no teasing and no need to fill the silence.

My hand rested against his stomach, moving casually over the firm lines of his abdomen while I listened to his breathing. I could feel him relax beneath my touch, and I took a small, private satisfaction in that, one I had no intention of admitting out loud.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who found comfort in being held.

Lorenzo tilted my chin up, drawing my attention back to him, and the look in his eyes shifted again.

The teasing remained, but something quieter lay beneath it, making my heart race as he leaned down and kissed me.

The kiss was gentle, his lips moving against mine in a slow, affectionate rhythm that gave me time to meet him halfway.

I cupped his cheek, tracing my thumb over the faint stubble along his jaw, and kissed him back until the softness deepened into something more intense. He pulled me closer, his hand settling securely around my waist, and for a little while, the messy room, the embarrassing memories, and the rest of the world faded away.

When he finally pulled back, I leaned in for another kiss, apparently having committed my morning to making questionable decisions.

He smiled against my mouth and I responded by playfully catching his lower lip between my teeth before pulling back with the most innocent grin I could manage.

Lorenzo gave my backside a light swat. "Behave, tesoro."

I gasped dramatically, clutching my chest as if he had committed a grave offense. "Excuse me! No more spanking, I demand respect!"

"You are one very naughty husband."

"Well news flash! That’s not my fucking problem, you’re the one who married me and refused to let me go. So this is all your cross to carry, Dracula."

"Touché." Lorenzo said, "Maybe I should kiss you again to make up for it."

I pretended to consider the offer, though my arms had already wound around his neck. "Humph...whatever, I suppose I could entertain your proposal and shit."

He kissed the corner of my mouth, and I was still smiling when my fingers brushed across the scar on his chest again.

This time, I didn’t trace it absentmindedly. I let my fingertips rest against the pale line, feeling the subtle change in his skin, and looked at him properly.

"Dracula?"

His smile lingered, but his eyes drifted toward my hand. "Yes, amore mio?"

"How did you get this?"

The question hung in the air, and I noticed the change in him immediately. His body didn’t tense as sharply as it had when he first woke, and he didn’t pull away from my touch, but the warmth in his expression dimmed.

His gaze stayed fixed on the scar beneath my fingers, and for a moment, he looked as though he had forgotten we were together in the morning light.

I lifted my hand slightly, offering him an out if he needed it, because whatever story lay behind the scars, I wasn’t going to force it from him.

"You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready," I added softly. "I’m just curious. I’ve seen them before, but I’ve realized that I don’t know much about what happened to you before we met...yet, you know so much about me."

He was quiet for so long that I began to worry I had pushed too far, then Lorenzo covered my hand with his own, keeping it pressed against his chest.

His thumb traced slow circles over my knuckles, but his eyes remained on the scar, and the silence grew heavier with each passing second. Then Lorenzo finally looked at me, and I caught a shadow in his green eyes that I had never quite seen before, a glimpse of pain hidden beneath years of control.

"I want to know more about you, Lorenzo." I pleaded, looking into his eyes. "Please, tell me....who hurt you?"

His gaze searched my face as if he were trying to determine whether the truth would pull me closer or change how I saw him.

Then he took a slow breath, opened his mouth as if he had made a decision, and hesitated and for the first time since I had known him, Lorenzo Castelli looked afraid of what might happen if he spoke.

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"Ti amo con tutto il cuore" = I love you with all my heart