Lucca (Made Men #4)

It killed him that he had to put her to sleep. What he was about to do to her killed him. She wasn’t going to understand for a long while that he had to do it to save her and to set her and his mother’s souls free.

Sitting down on the bed, he held her for just a little longer. This was the last time he was going to be able to touch her for a long while.

He began talking to her, hoping that somehow, when she woke up, a part of her would remember the things he had said.

“He was coming for you. He was going to take you away. He gave me no choice, Chloe. He tried to take you in the mall, and if I had let you walk ten steps farther, Lucifer would have had you.”

Lucca stood, placing her slumbering body on the bed before he sat back down beside her, wanting, needing one more moment with her.

He raised a finger to her porcelain face, stroking the scar he had dreamt about touching for seven months. Smoothing his finger over the mark, the darkness in him rumbled then stilled, becoming slow, steady, finding its purpose.

He had thought he had already found his true purpose when he had seen her for the first time, but that had been only the half of it. His purpose was saving Chloe Masters, but his true purpose was them saving each other.

Every day, he had felt himself become more insatiable. The darkness in him was walking a path of no return … And then he had touched her, and the heinous being inside that had been desolate and alone finally found hope. He was reborn.

The boogieman had found another the world viewed as a freak, as a monster.

Lucca smoothed his finger over her scar for just one more final moment. “I love you, darlin’. Please remember that when you wake up …”



Chloe pressed herself closer to Lucca, wanting to feel the warmth from his body, as she rested her head on his shoulder. The light dusting of snowfall in January was so beautiful to look at under the lighted gazebo. It took her breath away every time, almost as much as when she looked into Lucca’s fully green eyes.

She looked around, seeing the changes she and Lucca had created back here and the changes she had made within herself.

Lucca took her hand in his, pulling it onto his lap. “Do you know what day it is, darlin’?”

She raised her head to look into his green eyes, her breath once again being taken away.

Unable to find words, she simply shook her head.

“You met me right here for the first time … a year ago today.”

Her heart swelled at the fact that he had remembered.

“I can’t believe—” Chloe’s eyes drifted to her left hand as Lucca slid a diamond ring onto her finger.

“It was my mother’s,” he told her bittersweetly.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, a single tear running down her scar as her gray depths took in the glittering diamond that was held by an intricate design.

“Do you know what I had to tell the shop owner to talk her into selling me the music box?”

Chloe shook her head as more tears fell from her eyes.

“The day we first met under here, I went back after only knowing you existed for a week, and I told her I loved you.” He said it with such a fierceness that she felt the chains that held their souls together rattle.

“I love you,” she breathed with all her being, sending her own message to their souls.

Lucca leaned in, bringing his lips closer and closer to her scarred ones. “Marry me, darlin’.”





Chained





My body is chained, weak, and afraid.

My mind is broken.

The man who put me in these chains Owns me.



My body is chained, tough, and brave.

My mind is stronger.

The man who put me in these chains Will not own me.



My chains are old, weak, and afraid.

They are broken.

The man who put me in these chains Can no longer hold me.

Sarah Brianne





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Hunter





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A.E. Fisher




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Prologue





Mallory




Just do it.

You can do it.

Say it straight out.

“Oh, my God, I can’t do this,” I choked out, turning on my heels and racing straight back to my car. I fumbled with my keys, trying three times to get it into the lock before I stopped.

I couldn’t run away. I had to tell him. I had to tell him everything. I lied, and this was the part where I had to come clean and repent for my sins.

This time, my stupid actions weren’t only affecting me. I had dragged someone else into my mess, and now I had to try to fix it … even if that meant telling him everything.

So, there I was, turning back.

Anxiety pounded through my veins, urging me to run away, telling me it wasn’t worth it. My legs ignored the warning, dragging me kicking and screaming across the lot toward the tall, intimidating building that belonged to the very man I had screwed over. As a matter of fact, he screwed me, which was the whole problem.

Before I could reach the door and start a whole new series of arguments with myself, it swung open, and he filled the entire doorframe. I nearly cried.

With broad shoulders, a height of six-foot-five that would make basketball players weep, the perfection of his muscles, thick thighs concealed behind jeans, tight abs peeking through a white shirt, and sculpted biceps that flexed as he leaned against the doorframe, he was very much my wet dream come true.

My wet dream that did come true.

Yes, the beautiful blond-haired man with the deep green eyes, a white-toothed smile, and slightly crooked nose made me want to relive it all over again.

As the memory replayed in my mind, my body seared with heat as if it had been only a second ago that he had been buried deep between my legs, when it was over six weeks ago. The repercussion of my lie fit right in the space between.

“Mallory?” he said with that soft, husky tone, and I saw our night flash before his eyes, as I had relived it. I swear his smile turned up a hundred watts, which made this situation so much worse.

It would destroy him. Not because he was a bad guy, but because he was nice. Far too nice for this to fall on his shoulders when it was all my fault.

I had trapped him.

Suddenly, it became too much. So, what did I do?

I burst out crying.

Not even the pretty, cute sobs, either. No, it was the ugly, hard wheezing cries with snot pouring down my nose.

“Mallory?” he questioned in surprise as he strode out of the doorway and straight toward me. He grasped my biceps then rubbed up and down my arms, trying to calm me.

Because he was that nice.

I cried harder.

“Mallory, calm down,” he said with that soft, sweet voice. “What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry, Noble!” I mumbled, though I wasn’t sure he could understand through my wheezing and sobbing.