Read Dark Soul Vol. 4 for Free Online Page B

sorry, Silvio.”
    Silvio pressed his face into Stefano’s shoulder, and Stefano held onto that lean, powerful body that could give him so much. Would, frankly, give him everything. Everything, that was, but actually letting go and crying.
    Silvio pushed away and rubbed at his eyes. “Thought I’d fixed him. Just a bit, you know.”
    “Fixed what?”
    “He can’t touch people. He’s . . . I don’t know. He just can’t.” Silvio blinked a few times. “One thing Paolo did, you know. Never touched either of us. Well, unless . . .”
    The rest of the words didn’t even need speaking. Stefano didn’t want to hear it. He knew that part of the story from Falchi. Paolo had utterly failed as a father, and Silvio was still suffering from it.
    “He did say you changed him, though. In the kitchen. He told me you change everything you touch. I’m pretty sure that was what he meant.”
    “Then why did he just leave?”
    “Maybe he needs time to think.”
    “Thinking’s overrated.” Silvio pushed away and stared at the motorbike. “Anyway, I gotta head out. Get my head back on right.”
    Don’t go. Stefano put his hand on Silvio’s arm and squeezed. “Or come up to the house.” If you’re that lonely.
    “Not a good idea. You got some stuff to do first.”
    “With Donata? What was that about?”
    “Yeah, she asked if you have a mistress.”
    Stefano almost choked on his next breath. “She asked that?”
    “Not that directly, but yeah. If I knew of any other women.”
    Shit. The reason why his phone had shown up in the wrong place, too. But one thing irked him. She was way too smart to forget to put it back where she’d found it after she’d checked it for suspicious numbers, calls, or texts. Did she want him to ask her? Oh hell, like he didn’t have enough on his plate. “What did you say?”
    “Nothing. Said I’d keep my eyes open. But also you’ve been too busy and probably too injured to do anything like that.”
    “And?”
    “She said she figured it might have started before the attack from the Russians.”
    Which was about right. He reached again for Silvio’s wrist, but Silvio was already moving away. Somehow, it was important that he didn’t leave to fuck strangers. One or two, it didn’t even matter. Right now, Silvio seemed too brittle for that. “Come on, stay.”
    Silvio pulled away. “Go home to your wife, Stefano. She’s worried.” He settled on the motorbike, soon to become half-machine, half-beast, and slipped his helmet on. He slapped the dark visor shut immediately; it looked like one gigantic, reflective eye staring back at him. The engine started with a deep powerful rumble. No stopping now. It felt like trying to intercept the space shuttle during countdown. He watched Silvio meld his body to the motorbike, hunching deeper. Then he turned the handle and off he was, careful at first but speeding up once he hit the gravel, wheels spitting stones everywhere.
    Stefano pushed his fists into his trousers, torn between trying to chase Silvio by car and cursing him. Was this one of those moments when Franco had warned him to let Silvio go? The alternative would have been to tackle him and throttle him, then fuck him, and throttle him some more.
    He’d probably enjoy that, the bastard.
    Stefano waited for the sound of the engine to fade, and tried hard not to imagine Silvio trading kisses with strangers in a bar.
    Tried not to imagine Silvio fucking or being fucked by a stranger. It turned his stomach, and amidst the nausea was something like anger, resentment, worry, and other emotions he couldn’t even name. Too many, changing too quickly. Did he even have a right to keep Silvio away from his usual hunting grounds? He, who’d opted for the easy “I’ll let you know”?
    No, he didn’t. No moral right, not if he stretched the definitions, not if he applied the boss bonus. He fingered the phone in his pocket, considered sending Silvio a text, but whatever he’d send right now