Fire Bound (Sea Haven/Sisters of the Heart 5)

Casimir turned away from her, turned his back. Paced. Didn't turn on the lights. "I was there. There are images of me walking through the hotel, checking everywhere a couple of hours before I met with the head of security. The recordings will pass inspection. I'm very good at what I do."

His voice was clipped. Abrupt. An undertone of anger and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. She moved toward him. He swung around and held up his hand as if he had eyes in the back of his head.

"Stay there."

She halted instantly. "What is it, what's wrong?" She had known all along something was wrong. She'd felt it. He hadn't come to her the way he would have. The knots in her stomach tightened to the point of pain.

Casimir didn't answer her. His mask didn't slip, not even for a moment. The knots in her stomach got tighter. "Luigi knows Arturo is dead. He said his body was found in cuffs, hanging from the ceiling by chains and he died in a fire." She kept her voice strictly neutral.

"Hell, yeah, he died in a fire," Casimir said.

His rage shook the room. She felt the floor shifting. The walls breathing in and out trying to contain the pressure.

She wrapped her arms around her middle. She knew Arturo had to die. "He used to hold me when Luigi would get angry with me because I wasn't fast enough or silent enough when I trained. He would sneak me chocolate bars and..."

"Don't." He snarled the command. Stepped close.

For the first time she saw the killer in him. She saw him. The man that was part of Casimir, maybe even the largest part. The man she'd so studiously avoided seeing when she homed in on the gentle soul he kept hidden from the world.

"Casimir, I can't help but remember his kindness to me when I was a child." She opened her mouth to continue, to tell him she understood that Arturo had to die, that he deserved it, but she couldn't help that small arrow of grief for the man she'd thought he was.

"Don't you even think about that fucker," Casimir snapped. He stared down at her, his face an unreadable mask, his eyes as piercing as they could possibly be even with the dark contacts - alive with something close to hatred. "That man played you. Don't you dare grieve for him. They had a little routine, your uncle and Arturo."

Her hand rose defensively to her throat. His voice betrayed him. The fire in him was roaring. Angry. No, it was raging. And it ran deep. "I don't understand, Casimir."

"They set up a little school there in that building and they brought unwilling women and trained them. Arturo was the one who tore the skin off a woman with his whips. He caned her. He gave her so much pain she would do anything to make it stop. While they hurt her, tortured and humiliated her, they manipulated her body so she eventually couldn't get off without pain."

Her throat closed. Her lungs seized. She couldn't breathe.

"Arturo, that man you want to grieve for, trained those women by hanging them from the ceiling or tying them to a wooden bench or cross or whatever the hell he wanted in the moment. He beat a woman until she was cooperative and would do whatever he said, whatever any man they gave her to ordered. Your uncle had to have been the good guy, the one who came in and soothed her, cared for her, gave her those little intimate moments that gave her hope that someone actually cared. Then he used her. Abused her. Sold her time to very ugly, perverted men who hurt her over and over. Then Luigi would come back and soothe her all over again. They just reversed the roles with you, Giacinta. Luigi was the assassin. He trained you - was the disciplinarian - while Arturo assumed the role of the man who gave you those little touches to make you think he cared."

"Stop. Stop it, Casimir. I was a child. I lost my parents, my family, everything. You're taking everything."

He glared down at her, implacable. "You never had it in the first place. It was an illusion they created for you, not something real. Arturo was as sick as they come. I hung that sick fuck in the bloody chains and the pool of blood where he'd killed Carlotta. They took her there. They tortured her for days, while I sat in a fucking car a few hundred yards away and let it happen." He spat the words at her.

She couldn't stop the tears from burning her eyes even though she knew that would only fan the fire burning so hot in him. She should have known the moment she stepped in the room and found it so hot. He hadn't turned up his thermostat, he was fighting to keep from setting the house on fire with his rage.

She understood his rage. He blamed himself for not getting into the building, not discovering what was happening until it was too late. He hadn't saved the woman. That had to have brought flashbacks of the partners he'd been forced to have as a young teenager when they were teaching him control. The women who died because he'd had that control.

"Don't you fucking cry for him," he snarled.

He caught her face in one hand and she felt every fingerprint burning into her jaw. She didn't try to pull away or explain that the tears weren't for Arturo or Luigi. She wouldn't cry for either of them. The tears were for her lost childhood. For those women. Most of all they were for him. For Casimir to have to witness such a thing. To have to remember. To relive that nightmare. To let that terrible door crack open and memories spill out when the brutal tragedy happened all over again. He hadn't saved the woman. That was all he would see. All he would feel.

"Arturo tortured those women in his little sex school. I did the same to him and made certain he was alive when he burned. He didn't get to die easy. He felt every touch of the flames. And I was glad he felt them. I needed him to feel every one of those flames that crept up his body. He was the torch that started the building on fire. Arturo. Your little childhood buddy. Every lick of flame on his feet and legs, just like the whips he struck those women with. So precise. The maximum hurt with the least amount of actual damage to their bodies so they couldn't die and be free. I did that, to him, with whips and then with fire, Giacinta. I let that fucker and your bastard of an uncle turn me into a monster when all these years I've never allowed that. I gave that to them."

"Casimir." She said his name softly.

"Get the fuck out of here."

She remained where she was. She understood everything now. He detested himself for not saving the widow, but more, he believed he had become the thing Sorbacov tried to create - the monster he'd refused to be all those years of empty loneliness - of being everyone but Casimir Prakenskii.

She shook her head. "I'm not going to do that. I'm never going to do that. You're mine, Casimir. Mine. You aren't Sorbacov's. You don't belong to him. You never did. Luigi and Arturo can't turn you into a monster. You aren't capable of being a monster. Don't you dare ever put yourself in the same category."

"I burned that fucker alive."

"You found a woman dead, in a pool of blood, a woman he tortured and killed. We're fire elements. What did you think was going to happen? Had I come across a scene like that, do you think I could keep fire under control? You can blame yourself for Carlotta suffering those nights you were outside, but you and I both know, we can only make decisions based on what we know. We had a timetable. You couldn't risk getting caught just to satisfy curiosity. Had you broken into that building, you might have blown our covers. We didn't know what was in there."

He didn't respond, he just looked at her. There was pain in his eyes. Pain a monster would never feel.

"I need to come to you now, Casimir. I need to put my arms around you and hold you. Will you let me do that?"

He continued to stand there without speaking, his eyes drifting over her face. He was utterly still, as if holding himself together and if he moved he would shatter into a million pieces.

She didn't ask again. She crossed the space between them and slid her arms around him, pressed her body into him tightly. Laid her head over his heart. "If I haven't told you yet, I love you. I know it's too soon to say that. I know you're going to say I don't know you, but now, right now..." She tilted her face up so her eyes could meet his. "I saw all of you. The best and the worst. I saw what they tried to shape you into, and I know

that's part of who you are. I also know they didn't succeed the way they wanted because of your character, because of who you were born to be. Because of your genetics and your parents and your brothers. You might not have been raised with them, but they were there for you. Inside you. Helping you hold out against the monsters. I see you, Casimir, and the man I see, the one you are, that's the man I love. Don't take him away from me. Don't let the Arturos, Luigis and Sorbacovs win."

Very slowly his arms came up to wrap tight around her. He didn't say anything at all, but he nearly broke her in half tightening his hold on her, locking her to him so hard he clearly wanted to share the same skin. They stood there, just holding each other, and then he finally dropped his head over hers, his lips in her hair.

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "You have to go to Luigi. Can you do it? Can you play out this charade? The cops will want to question him about Arturo. We can't kill him now. Not and have it look like an accident. Someone will be suspicious." He loosened his hold on her to catch her chin in his palm, lifting her face to his. "Can you do this, Giacinta? Because if you can't, we'll leave. We can disappear and come back in a few weeks or I will, and finish this."

"I'll finish it."