Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles Book 6)

The drive from Las Vegas back to camp seemed to last forever. It was difficult to focus on the street, on anything really, except for the horrible images I’d seen. They’d haunted my night. I couldn’t help but wonder how much worse it must be for Dinara. We’d on occasion shared a tent and her sleep had often been interrupted by unintelligible mumblings. Whenever I’d asked what she’d been dreaming about, she’d evaded a reply.

It was impossibly difficult to link that helpless, cowering girl with the fierce and confident woman I’d been spending so much time with. I’d expected a sad story, but not this. Even a night’s sleep hadn’t managed to calm the raging flood of emotions in my body.This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

When we’d last seen each other two days ago before she’d left for Chicago and I had driven to Las Vegas, she’d been worried I’d view her in a different light once I knew about her past. I’d thought she was exaggerating. I had been confident nothing could change my opinion of her. Now, I wasn’t sure.

Dinara’s reaction in the car when I’d laid on top of her, her need to stay in control of her body at all times. It all made sense now. Even before I’d found out the truth, I’d considered her strong, now her strength seemed almost inhuman.

When the first tents of camp came into view, my chest tightened. I was fucking nervous about seeing her again, about doing what I’d promised not to do, about seeing her in a new light. And not just that, a small trickle of doubt about her motives remained. Maybe she would be disappointed if I returned without having killed her mother and everyone else.

A quick scan revealed Dinara’s Toyota at the very edge on the west side of camp. I steered my car in that direction.

The moment she spotted me, Dinara headed my way from where she was talking to one of the pit girls. This was the moment of truth.

Dinara

I’d been anxiously awaiting Adamo’s return from Vegas, wondering if Remo had revealed my past to him. Part of me wanted him to know, because it would make things easier. Adamo might be more willing to help if he knew why I was doing what I did. On the other hand, I’d enjoyed our time together, the sex and conversations, the way he treated me like his equal. He didn’t consider me breakable. I’d proven my strength to him. But once he knew about my past, none of that would matter.

People only saw that one aspect of myself once they found out, as if it was all that defined me. The molested child. The rape girl. It was a big part of me, no doubt, and haunted me to this day, but I didn’t want special treatment because of it. I wanted to be treated like anyone else, not someone breakable or vulnerable or damaged. I was neither of those things.

The moment Adamo’s car pulled into camp, I excused myself from Kate, the pit girl with the angel voice, who was a kickass cook as well, and headed toward him. My pulse picked up when Adamo got out. One look from him, and I knew Remo had told him enough. As expected, it had changed the way Adamo regarded me. I wasn’t only Dinara, Bratva princess and race driver. I was the poor girl from before.

I did a U-turn and stalked back to my car, not in the mood for that kind of confrontation.

I was angry, but beneath that, I was scared, scared of losing the connection Adamo and I had developed, our easy-going interactions. It was one of the reasons why I loved being part of the race camp. Nobody knew who I’d been before, what had happened. Back in Chicago, everyone did, and despite the years that had passed, it still often showed in the way they looked at me and treated me. How was I supposed to leave the past behind if even bystanders couldn’t do it?

I was so fucking scared of having people here look at me the same way, of Adamo looking at me that way. It was one of the reasons why Dima and I hadn’t worked out, why our relationship had been doomed from the very start. What had made him appear a safe choice for a relationship in the beginning had ultimately been the nail in our coffin.

Soon steps followed me, and my heart beat only faster.

I hated feeling scared. It reminded me of that girl Adamo now mistook me for. I never wanted to be her again.

“Dinara!” Adamo called and finally caught up with me at my car.

I whirled on him and stared into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, but at the same time so fucking scared of what that would be. Adamo touched my shoulder. Even that simple touch seemed more hesitant than any of our touches in the past.

Adamo watched me not saying a word. He didn’t have to. His eyes spoke a clear language—the tongue of pity. I hated nothing more than that. “So Remo told you everything?”

I’d given Adamo the ok, had given Remo the ok, but maybe a stupid part of me had hoped Adamo would let it rest. It was idiotic. Eventually he’d find out. It was inevitable if I wanted to move on with my plan.

Adamo ran a hand through his hair and glanced away. A myriad of emotions swam in his eyes. “Yeah, not everything but enough.”

He wasn’t telling the truth. There had been a moment of hesitation before he’d answered.

I shoved away from the car. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me to protect me.”

I was so tired of people doing it. I deserved the harsh truth, even if it crushed my heart.

Adamo pushed his hands into his pockets. His expression cranked up the compassion.

And I could not bear it. “What exactly did he say?” I seethed, so fucking angry but at the same time bursting with despair. All because of Adamo, of the way he might handle me in the future. I’d never felt anything similar with Dima, as if my heart might splinter.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course, it does!” I sneered. “Can you imagine how frustrating it is to be in the dark about something that concerns you so integrally? Because of the way you’re looking at me, I know you’re pretty shaken up about what Remo said. He’s maybe the only one who knows everything because he’s the one who handled everything back then. Even I don’t know everything, only the lies and halt-truth that my father, you and your brothers told me.”

I could feel the treacherous heaviness in the back of my throat, the prickling at the back of my eyeballs—harbingers of tears. Not going to happen. Crying was a sign of weakness I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time.

The craving for relief swelled like the tide, unstoppable, slowly eating away at my resolve like the waves took over the sand. I fumbled for a cigarette, even though I hated the taste, the smell, the feel of the soggy paper in my mouth. I’d never be a smoker because I enjoyed it. But it was better than nothing, better than the alternative. I needed something to soothe my anxious mind, to silence the call of my dark craving.

Adamo came closer, his keen eyes scanning my shaking fingers. Maybe he knew the telltale signs. After all, he was intimate with dark cravings as well.

I steeled myself for his touch but his hands stayed lodged in his jeans. His dark eyes searched mine. Taking a deep drag, I turned my head away, giving him my profile. “I’m not lying,” he said, then took a deep breath. “Remo showed me a video of you and what happened.”

I felt the color drain from my face, and my throat corded up. Too many years had gone by for me to remember everything, or even the majority of what had happened. I remembered bits and pieces. Nightmarish events that haunted my sleep in disjointed episodes or flashes of still images. I’d worked hard to forget as much as possible, had used alcohol and drugs to speed up the process. “You—” My vocal cords froze up and I couldn’t say more.

Anger battled with horror and frustration in my body. Again others knew more about me and my life than I did.

Adamo came even closer, so very careful as if he feared I’d take flight. Running had never solved a thing. “I hardly watched anything. Only a couple of minutes until I realized where it was heading. I couldn’t bear to watch further.”

I glowered. “You couldn’t bear to watch? I lived through what you couldn’t even watch.”

I wasn’t even sure why I was angry about that. A big part of me was glad he hadn’t seen more of my horrors. A tiny part was still ashamed when I thought of what had been done to me. It was an ugly voice even years of therapy, drugs and distractions hadn’t silenced.

Adamo nodded, his expression kind and solemn at once. I wanted to punch him as hard as I could. Instead I balled one hand to a fist and took another deep drag from my cigarette. My fingers were shaking, letting the smoke rise up in an erratic zig-zag course.

“I know,” he murmured in a voice like silk. “I shouldn’t have watched it at all without asking for your permission first. This was taken in your personal space.”

I scoffed. “Trust me, nobody cared about my personal space back then.” I shivered, as remnants of memories flickered at the back of my mind. Words, scents, images that had left permanent marks in my subconscious.

“Dinara, I—” He released a breath.

I met Adamo’s gaze. “Say whatever you have to say. I’m not breakable, Adamo. What happened back then didn’t break me, whatever happens now and in the future won’t break me either.” My voice was pure steel, just like the protective coating slowly covering my heart.

“What do you mean?” Adamo asked, looking honestly confused. “I don’t have any intention to do something that could hurt you, much less break you.”

“The look in your eyes now when you look at me… it means what we had is over.”

What we had. We hadn’t even put a name to it, hadn’t allowed us to define something that went against many odds. I hadn’t allowed myself to put too much importance into our liaison. I’d tried to tell myself it was only about having fun and getting closer to a Falcone, but now that I saw our bond crumble right before my eyes, I realized it had been more than just fun. More than I should have ever allowed. More than my father would ever accept.

He bent his head, capturing my gaze with his. His scent, warm and spicy, wrapped around me. “How am I looking at you?”

I laughed bitterly and pointed the glowing tip at his face. “Like this. The same way my father looked at me when Remo handed me back to him. As if I was a broken puppet. Your favorite puppet that you took out to play every day but suddenly it had an irreparable crack, and now you can’t ever play with it again because you fear it might break apart if you do. So, you’ll put it on a shelf and hardly ever look at it because whenever you do, you’re sad about what you lost. That’s how you look at me, Adamo. So, go your merry way, I’ll survive.”

I wouldn’t let our relationship continue because Adamo acted out of pity, because he didn’t have the balls to end it with poor me.

I was a survivor. I would survive Adamo walking away, not without my dark craving, but I would survive one way or another. Still, my stomach twisted at the thought that this could be our final goodbye—even if goodbye was inevitable for us.

Adamo shook his head. “Bullshit. I never played with you, and I won’t go my merry way. We aren’t over and I won’t allow you to put a wedge between us.” He gripped my shoulders, not gentle at all, and my stupid heart pounded with hope. “Nothing changed between us.”

And yet everything had. His eyes told the truth. If we wanted a chance, Adamo needed to see me as the girl I’d been before he’d known the truth. He had to see me as a separate being from the poor girl from the video. I wasn’t sure if he could. Dad had tried and failed. I never resented him for it. He was my father. I accepted the way he looked at me because we were family. But I wouldn’t do the same for Adamo. I couldn’t. I needed this part of my life to be only for Dinara, and not poor abused Katinka. “Then fuck me, Adamo. Fuck me like you would have two days ago and not like I’m breakable.” I dropped the cigarette and crushed it under my boot. “Or can’t you do it now that you feel pity for me?”

Adamo cupped my neck, heat and anger battling in his eyes. “I don’t pity the girl in front of me, Dinara. I pity that girl from the past. But you…you are tough as nails. You don’t need my fucking pity.”

I nodded, as much to confirm his words as to convince myself that I’d really left every bit of that little girl behind. Deep down I knew she still cowered in a dark part of my brain, small and frightened, threatening to burst forth. I wanted her out of there, and by now I had an idea how to finally succeed.

“Fuck me,” I breathed.

Adamo jerked me against his body, his tongue dipping into my mouth. I opened up for him, threw my arms around his neck and molded our bodies together. Adamo squeezed my breast through my tank then tugged at my pebbled nipple. I raked my fingers through his wavy hair, bit down on his lower lip only to sooth it with my tongue a moment later. He pressed his palm against my crotch and I arched against him, wanting to feel his touch on bare skin.

“Get a room,” someone called. I was too disoriented from our kiss to know who it was. Adamo grabbed my hand and tugged me along. I followed him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest, my center tingling with need. Adamo dragged me into the old gas station, past a surprised Crank. “Get out,” Adamo snarled, and Crank did with a muttered curse. Then we stumbled into the backroom with its old freezer and scattered boxes. The stench of moldy cardboard and something rotten clogged my nose.

Adamo threw the door shut and pressed me against the edge of the freezer, his hands making quick work of my zipper. He didn’t bother pulling my shorts down, only shoved his hand into my panties and thrust his middle finger into me. The heel of his palm rubbed my clit as he fingered me hard and fast.

Our eyes stayed locked, my lips parted as Adamo drew moan after moan from my mouth. My arousal soaked my panties, making Adamo’s finger slide in and out easily. He added a second finger and slammed even harder into me. The desire in his eyes seared every inch of my skin. No sign of pity, only lust.

I screamed out my release but Adamo hardly gave me time to recover before he shoved down my shorts and hoisted me on the freezer. He pushed my legs apart and took a few deep licks, making me shudder and cling to his hair. Then he straightened and pulled out his cock. He gripped my ankles and propped them up on his shoulders before he dove into me in one hard thrust. He didn’t give me time to adept, instead he slammed into me. He leaned forward, bringing my legs closer to my body and changing the angle so he went even deeper. I sucked in breath after shaky breath, my toes curled tightly under the force of the sensations.

Fury and desire had replaced pity, and I became Dinara again, as I lost myself in Adamo’s gaze. I dug my nails into his shoulders, my hips meeting him thrust for thrust, and then my lips tore open for a cry as I came again. Adamo slammed even harder into me before he released into me with a low groan.

I closed my eyes, panting. I didn’t want this to end. Not today, not tomorrow, maybe never.

Adamo made me want to lose control to him. He made me feel as if I could lose control to him without fear.

When Adamo and I had both calmed down from our release, he met my gaze. His face was covered in sweat and his shirt clung to his upper body. “We’re not over,” he rasped.

I nodded, breathing harshly. “We’re not.”

In that moment Adamo looked at me the same way he had before he’d found out the ugly truth, as if I were still tough, racer Dinara to him. I knew there would be moments when this new poignant expression would return but as long as he could make me feel so alive, I could live with the small reminders.