Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles Book 6)

Dinara and I returned to camp and participated in the two following races, but our hearts weren’t into it. The list occupied our thoughts. It was futile to pretend otherwise. We headed for Las Vegas the morning after the second race, unable to push our vendetta off further. We were both antsy.

We paid for another shabby motel on the old part of the strip. A place like that felt more fitting to our quest than a five-star hotel. We wouldn’t be returning to camp until every last name on our list was crossed off, no matter how long it took. The races could wait.

The next few kills went smoothly, without torture. Easy kills that Dinara executed with a gun. I held back my own cravings for blood, allowing her to do this on her own terms. Worse than resisting my thirst for blood was watching the recordings. Every minute burned itself into my head and sometimes even followed me in my nightmares.

Dinara lay stretched out on the bed beside me after we’d crossed off number six, completely naked, and gorgeous beyond words. Seeing her like this and remembering the recordings I’d seen of her was difficult to put together. Dinara had survived horrors I couldn’t even comprehend, and she’d become fierce and determined, but also kind. So many people would have turned jaded after what she’d gone through.

We hadn’t discussed our emotions again, had skidded around the topic carefully, but watching her now, the desire to express my feelings was almost irresistible.

Dinara’s eyes told me she knew what I was thinking. “Not yet,” she whispered.

I smiled wryly. “When?”

“Not yet,” she simply said.

Torture made my blood sing. I was still high, euphoric, but no longer lost in a trance. Dinara had captured my full attention. The way she’d unleashed her pain. The last few kills had been almost emotionless. Dinara had shot every abuser with a bullet in the head. Cool and controlled. But today had been different. As with her first kill, Dinara had lost herself in the need for revenge. Maybe it was because we’d faced two abusers, a married couple, who’d both abused Dinara. Her anger had mostly been focused on the woman. I had lost count of the time Dinara had stabbed her. She’d ferally attacked once I was done, had killed as if possessed.

Now silence had fallen in the cell below the Sugar Trap.

I was frozen as I looked at Dinara.

Blood coated her lips, a streak of color against her pale skin. Even the flaming red of her hair paled in comparison.

She lay motionless on the cold stone floor, her wide eyes directed at the ceiling but unseeing of what lay before her.

I dropped the knife. It landed with a clatter, blood splattering around it. For a second a sliver of my face reflected in the only clean spot on the sharp blade. For the first time in my life, I understood the fear people harbored when they heard my name. Falcone.

Today my expression justified their terror.

Bloodshed was in my genes. All of my life, I’d fought this craving deep in my veins, had dimmed it with drugs and alcohol, but its call had always been present, an undercurrent in my body that threatened to pull me under.

I hadn’t let it. I’d thrown myself headfirst into its depth, had followed the current to the darkest part of my soul. For so long this day had been my greatest nightmare, a fear beyond measure. But fuck, today felt like a rebirth, like a homecoming to my true self.

My palms were sticky with her blood and it felt perfect. I had never before killed a woman, much less caused one pain on purpose, but after watching the recording, she’d become faceless to me, a mere target I needed to eradicate.

No street race could ever compete with the thrill, the absolute high of a kill, and even less with the power rush of torture.

Denying one’s nature is living a lie. Only drugs in all shapes and forms had made it possible. No more.

People finally had a reason for the nickname they gave my brothers and me.

The monsters of Las Vegas.

My monstrous side had come out to play but the revelry had only just begun.

Remo and I were similar in looks, but that wasn’t our most striking similarity. His cruelty and brutality had appalled me most of my life because it reflected a part of me I despised. Today I made peace with him and me.

I had Dinara to thank for that.

She turned her head and blinked at me, her chest heaving. “Will it always be like this?”

“Like what?” I asked hoarsely. I wasn’t even sure why my throat ached. Unlike our victim I hadn’t screamed. I had hardly said anything at all.

She drew in a deep breath as if she needed time to sort her thoughts, to form the right words. “I’m equally horrified and disgusted by what we did as I’m feeling exhilarated and empowered. Will it always be like that? This conflict tearing at my chest because I lost myself completely to the bloodlust. Just pulling the trigger is different, but this…this personal kill…” She sighed.

I moved closer to her and sank down on my knees beside her. “I don’t know.”

She searched my eyes. “What do you feel, Adamo?”

I considered lying, masking my true feelings. “Not horror. Not disgust.” My gaze strayed toward the corpses, waiting for a flicker of regret, any kind of emotion a normal person would feel, but there was nothing, only the need to repeat what I just experienced. When I looked back at Dinara, realization filled her expression. The monster was difficult to hide once you took it out to play. “You like it more every time we do it.”

I smiled darkly. “You know what they call us Falcones.”

Remo and Nino would be so proud of me if they could have seen me like this. Pride goes before a fall. I’d always given them shit for what they did, for what they enjoyed doing, and now here I was.

She pushed into a sitting position and reached for my hand, linking our fingers. Our palms stuck together with the blood of our victim. “I couldn’t have done this without you. I can’t go on without you.”

“You want to stick to our plan? Even your mother?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I want to make them pay, every single one of them. They must bleed.”

I squeezed her hand. “And bleed they will, Dinara. Their screams will drive away the ghosts their actions left in your soul.”

Dinara shook her head with a small smile. She pressed a kiss to my lips. It tasted of blood and tears, and even that didn’t disgust me. “Poet and killer. You never cease to surprise me, Adamo.” Her eyes shone with resolve. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Surprise washed through me. “What happened to not yet?”

Dinara shook her head. “Why should I be scared?”

There were probably a hundred reasons why our emotions should scare us, but I didn’t give a damn about a single one of them. I cradled her neck, pulling her closer. “I’ll go every step of the way with you. I’ll give you the justice you deserve, even if it takes my last breath.”

“No,” she whispered. “Neither of us is going to give their last breath for these disgusting creatures. We are going to live when their blood has long been spilled.”

I kissed her again, harder this time, my tongue parting her lips. My hand roamed her back.

Dinara pulled away with a shake of her head. “I can’t. Not like this.” She motioned at her blood-covered state. “Not beside them.” She nodded at the bodies. “Could you?”

I wished the answer would have been no but my veins pulsed with the remnants of adrenaline from the kill and desire. I could have fucked Dinara right here on the cold, blood-soaked floor. I pushed to my feet and held out my hand. “Don’t ask questions if the answers could scare you.”

Dinara gripped my hand and I pulled her to her feet. She touched my chest, nails digging in. “I won’t ever be scared of you.” Her face moved very close until it was all I could see. “Because your monster won’t ever hurt me.”

I nodded, because that was true. “Let’s take a shower and grab something to eat. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Dinara slanted a look toward the corpses. “What about them? Don’t we have to get rid of them?”

I took out my phone and called Nino. He and Remo were upstairs in the office and would handle the situation. “It’ll be dealt with.”

Dinara nodded. We headed upstairs, covered in blood and strangely elated. On our way out of the bar, we ran across Remo and Nino. Remo met my gaze, but he didn’t say anything. I gave him a small nod. Today, maybe for the first time ever, I really understood him, and he saw it in my face.

“We’ll deal with the corpses,” Nino said matter-of-factly.

A nervous energy surrounded Dinara as we stepped out of the Sugar Trap but the closer we got to the car the calmer she got. She opened the passenger door, and released a small laugh. “We really did it. We’re almost done with our list.”

Only one name remained, a name we avoided mentioning.

I could practically see the weight falling off her. Euphoria was banishing any hint of anxiety. For now her demons were put to rest. They weren’t gone for good however. I was intimately familiar with demons of the past. They’d come back to haunt her, but they would have lost some of their power over her.

“We did, and we won’t stop until you got what you want.”

We got into the car and I hit the gas, racing away, out of the city. Dinara reached over, her palm covering my cock through my jeans. I slanted her a questioning look. Her lips dragged into a teasing smile, but in her eyes, darkness mixed with lust. Fuck, and it turned me on. I would have fucked her right there with the dead bodies.

She rubbed harder. I slowed the car, wanting to pull over. She shook her head. “Keep driving. Fast.”Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

I chose side streets that were less crowded at this time of the night. My foot pressed down on the gas again.

Dinara nodded and lowered her eyes to my bulge. She unbuckled her belt and scooted closer before she opened my zipper. After a bit of fumbling, my cock sprang free and she took it into her mouth.

I hissed at the feel of her wet heat. Her tongue rimmed my tip before she sucked me even deeper. One of my hands tangled in her red mane as her head bobbed up and down. My eyes were fixed on the street ahead, racing through the near darkness.

I moaned when Dinara sucked only my tip while her hands palmed my balls through the jeans. The wet sounds of her mouth working my cock filled the car. My fingers tightened in her hair when I hit her throat. She pulled back slightly only to work my tip even more feverously with her mouth and tongue. My fingers locked tighter around the steering wheel as the first treacherous pulsating took hold off my balls. Dinara sucked me harder, her fingers massaging my balls into orgasm, and then pleasure shot through me and I released right into her mouth.

Groaning, I pumped my hips, my foot on the gas slacking, while Dinara milked me dry. “Fuck,” I growled as I almost swerved the car off the street. Dinara raised her head, smiling darkly, her lips coated with my cum. Her tongue darted out, licking it up.

“Your turn now,” I rasped, steering the car toward the side of the road.

She grabbed the wheel, pushing the car back on the street. “Keep driving. Fast.”

I shook my head. “Can’t eat you out while I’m driving. Even my driving skills aren’t good enough to drive blind.”

She grinned wickedly. “Finger me and drive.”

I sped up once more as I watched Dinara slide down her pants and thong in one move, revealing those sexy lean legs and delicious pussy with the trimmed red hair. She gave me a look that told me she knew the effect her body had on me. She leaned her back against the door and propped up one leg against my thigh, giving me a prime view of that sopping wet pink pussy.

“Eyes on the street, Falcone,” she said with a daring grin.

“How am I supposed to focus on driving if your pussy’s tempting me?”

“You’re a big boy. You can deal. Now get me off.”

I chuckled as I returned my eyes to the street. I reached out and cupped Dinara’s knee, then slowly trailed my hand up her inner thigh.

“Faster.”

“The car or my fingers?”

“Both,” she hissed, grabbing my wrist and pressing my fingers against her wet pussy. I groaned at the feel of her welcoming heat, knowing it would feel perfect around my cock.

I slid two fingers into her. She moaned, her walls clenching around my fingers.

Soon Dinara’s hips rotated frantically, driving my fingers deeper into her pussy. The lights of Vegas came into view and soon we passed buildings and crowded sidewalks.

I fingered Dinara even faster until she cried out, her inner muscles clamping like a vice around my fingers. I kept fucking her but slowed. My foot on the gas eased too and soon the blur of hotels and people became distinguishable. Dinara leaned her cheek against the glass, peering out with parted lips. I curled my fingers, causing her to moan and fog up the glass. I pulled into the parking garage of a random hotel and parked at the side. The moment the car stopped, I shoved my seat back.

Dinara didn’t hesitate before she climbed on my lap and lowered herself on my cock.

The passengers of passing cars gave us white-eyed looks. It was only a matter of time before their reports would lead security or even the police here. I grabbed Dinara’s neck and pulled her down for a kiss while my other hand palmed her firm ass as she rode me. Our bodies seemed to become one and our surroundings faded to the background.

We clung to each other almost desperately, as if this was the last time, we could ever be close.

When we returned to our motel room that night, our mood was solemn. We’d almost reached the end of our list, and with it the end of our vigilante journey. After that we’d have to return to our normal life, or as normal as our life could be. We crawled into bed together, both on our backs, our arms touching.

“What are we going to do after the last kill?” I asked.

Dinara blinked up at the ceiling. “I hope I’ll feel freed.”

“I hope so too, but that’s not what I meant.”

She rolled over to face me, her smile solemn. “I know. I suppose you will return to the race camp?”

“The season is as good as over and with all the races I missed, I can’t make a top ten position anyway.”

Dinara nodded. She stroked her fingertips along the stubble on my chin and cheek. “So you’ll return to Vegas to celebrate Christmas with your brothers?”

Christmas seemed lightyears away, even if there was only a month until Christmas eve. “That’s the plan, yes,” I said slowly. “But I thought you could join me.”

Surprise crossed Dinara’s face. “You want me to spend the holidays with your family?”

“With me and my family,” I corrected. “Does it really come as such a shock to you that I want you at my side, even during the holidays. We’ve spent night and day together over the last few months, and to be fucking honest, despite all the brutal shit our adventure entailed, it was the best time of my life.”

“Then you should reconsider your life choices,” she said with a wry smile, but her eyes held tenderness. “It says a lot about me and you that it was also the best time of my life. We’re fucked up.”

“So what?”

“Once we’re done with the list, you’ll still be a Camorrista and I’ll still be the daughter of the Chicago Pakhan. Is there a way this can work?” Her lips brushed mine and her eyes held hope and anxiety.

“If we want it to.”

“My father doesn’t want war with the Outfit. That would hit too close to home, but if he agreed to a truce with your brothers, that might very well lead to a war declaration from the Outfit.”

“We don’t fight over the same territory,” I said. “Your father rules over the Great Lakes. We don’t have to declare truce to ignore each other’s existence.”

“You think ignoring each other’s existence is enough for you and me to be an official couple? Where would we even live? We couldn’t live in Chicago together because that would cause trouble.”

“Not to mention that the Outfit would have a field day if they got their hands on me again to finish what they started.”

Dinara stroked the scar on my forearm absent-mindedly as she continued, “And me living in Las Vegas would look just as bad. No matter what we said, people would consider me as part of the Camorra and suspect a truce between your family and mine, which would have the same result. War between the Bratva and the Outfit.”

The Outfit had strong ties to the political elite in Chicago and Illinois. Even if the Camorra and Bratva fought together to in attack it would mean a lot of unwanted attention. That wasn’t something we wanted or needed. But I wasn’t willing to give Dinara up over mob politics.

“I want us to be together. If we both want it, nothing can stop us.”

Dinara leaned her forehead against mine. “Let’s talk about this once we’re done.”

She still couldn’t say it. The last name on our list was Dinara’s biggest challenge.

“It won’t be easy. Maybe you can’t go through with it. And that’s okay too. That doesn’t mean you failed or that you’re still shackled by the past.”

“I have to do it,” Dinara whispered. “I have to kill her.”

I kissed her temple. Whatever it took to help Dinara, I’d do it.

Dinara

Before I could go through with killing my mother, I needed to return to Chicago. Adamo was reluctant to let me leave, but ultimately, he understood and accepted my need to talk to my father.

I stepped into the foyer of our mansion. For a moment I only inhaled the familiar scent. I’d hated living in this golden cage and yet I always missed it. Or maybe I just missed Russia.

Dad waited in his office. Even the tsar couldn’t have had a more magnificent workspace. Dad looked up when I entered.

Bloodshed was his profession. I had no illusions regarding the atrocities he was capable of. If you wanted to become anything in the Bratva, you couldn’t afford a conscience. But I’d always been his little girl, a precious doll he wanted to keep away from the terrors of his business.

Now I’d shown my true colors. I’d tortured and killed. I was a Mikhailov.

He didn’t get up from his chair, only leaned back, regarding me closely. “You worked with the Camorra to dish out the revenge I could have dished out for you. Why would you ask the enemy for help but not your own father?”

Disappointment and anger rang in his deep voice. His eyes hit me with the full force of his disappointment. I walked toward him, my high heels clicking on the parquet. The Russian lady costume barely hid what truly lay beneath, a broken, messed-up murderer.

“Because you would have never allowed me to be part of the killings. My only chance to dish out revenge was to seek other allies.”

Dad hit the desk with his palm and shoved to his feet, towering over me. “Because I didn’t want blood on your hands. I wanted to protect you from the evil of this world. And the fucking Falcones throw you right into the abysm of hell.”

I met his furious gaze. Grown men fell to their knees before this man but I’d never been scared of him. Maybe I was a fool for thinking I was safe from his cruel side. “Protecting me now, against my will I might add, won’t make the past undone. I know you feel guilty for being unable to protect me back then.”

The fury multiplied, his eyes practically burning up with rage but behind it guilt flared up.

“The Falcones never had the power to throw me into any abyss, because I’ve been living in a fucking hell for years, from the moment the first bastard raped me.”

Dad gripped one of the expensive Fabergé eggs from his desk and tossed it against the closest wall. It shattered with an earsplitting crash and every beautiful piece fell to the floor. The word rape was one we’d skidded around so far. We knew what had happened but somehow putting a word to it had threatened to make it worse. I took his hand, stepping closer. “You can’t save me, Dad. No one can. I need to claw myself out of the abyss my mother threw me into.”

“Don’t speak that name.”

“Killing those men felt good, so good. Their pain took away some of my own.”

Dad cupped my cheeks, searching my eyes as if he hoped to find the little daughter that he’d dressed in princess dresses. But that girl was dead, died many painful deaths to be reborn as something vile and vengeful. “If I could make undone what’s been done to you, I’d kill every single of my men just to get my little Katinka back.”

My eyes prickled. “I know. But she’s dead, and now I’m going to make sure every single person who killed her will be too.”

“A father never wants his daughter to become like him, not if he’s a man like myself.”

“I’m glad I’m like you in this regard. I’m glad I could hold the knife that executed the kill. I’m glad I’m not the princess in need of a prince to settle her scores.”

“But you got help from the Falcone prince, didn’t you?”

I nodded. “He helped me track them down. But it was me who killed them. They’re all dead. Now only my mother is left.”

“I should be the one to kill her, not you. Killing a woman, killing your mother, will leave scars. Scars I don’t think you should inflict on yourself.”

I smiled emotionlessly. “She’s the worst monster of them all. That woman is the reason why I’ll never know what the word “mother” really means. Killing her will set me free.”

Dad stroked my cheek. “I hope it does. I really hope it does, but if I’ve learned something over the years, it’s that revenge rarely sets us free. It only shackles us to new demons. Sometimes those only join the old ones. I can’t lose you, Dinara.”

I pulled back with a frown. “You think I’ll run off with Adamo, join the Camorra.”

“That’s not the loss I worry about.” His fingers curled around my forearm.

“I didn’t try to kill myself. And I haven’t been cutting myself in a while.” Despite the many years that had passed since my slip, Dad couldn’t get over it and I felt guilty because of it, but I was trying to live a new, better life.

Dad’s eyes became distant. “When Dima found you in a puddle of blood with foam around your mouth, I thought I’d lost you.”

“I won’t overdose again, Dad. I’m clean. You know no one’s going to sell me shit in your territory anyway.”

“What about Camorra territory?”

“Not there either, trust me. Adamo made sure of it.”

“Adamo,” Dad repeated, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “What’s really between you and this Falcone boy?”

“He’s not a boy, Dad.”

Dad just kept staring into my eyes. “Is it serious?”

“What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’re going to be torn between two worlds.”

“It’s the same world, just different sides.”

“Exactly. You know I can’t allow you to date the enemy. Nobody will understand it.”

“They don’t have to, as long as you do.”

“Do you realize in what position you put me? Allowing you to keep wandering around in Camorra lands puts the business at risk. Moscow won’t be happy about that.”

“I don’t know anything about your business, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“If the Camorra used you as bait, they’d have me in their hands and you know it.”

I smiled wryly. “You know Remo better than I do, and even I know he’d never use me like that.”

“That man doesn’t have a kind bone in his body, Dinara. There’s a reason why he controls the west without a hiccup.”

“There’s a reason why you’re Pakhan, Dad. Still you live by certain rules. One of them makes sure you’re allowing me to do what I do even though you disapprove, and the same rules have Remo Falcone see me as off-limits as well.”

“Having men like us in your hand, that’s a powerful position to be in, I hope you realize that,” he murmured, cupping my head. “I’m gifting you with more freedom than I’d ever allow anyone else and not because of these rules you mention.”

“Because of pity,” I guessed.

Dad smiled wistfully. “Oh, not pity either. The girl before me today doesn’t need my pity.” He kissed my temple. “Love’s a fool’s game. Don’t play it.”

“I need to return to Vegas to finish what I started.”

Dad’s lips thinned. “Don’t lose yourself. Don’t give your mother any power over you. She deserves to die and be forgotten.”