Chapter 31
Blaine De Lombardi's POV
My mom went away as it was pouring rain. Her wounded body was covered with dirt from the rain, as I recall seeing it. All my father did was look at her. He just peered into her icy eyes, which had once been so vibrant, as if he could not believe they would never blink again. He did not shout or cry. I saw him lose it later that evening.
I sobbed. That marked the end of my tears. I saw rain slide down my mother's corpse and felt fury well up inside of me.
Sunsets! She adores the dusk.
Although Kharis De Lombardi cherished the sun, it wasn't there when she left. It was just a dreary, dark day without any lovely pink or orange skies or warm sunshine.
I knew it wasn't my mother's time to depart just for that reason. The day Kharis De Lombardi departed this life ought to have been one in which the sun shone brilliantly and vanished with an amazing display of hues.
I therefore think my mother is still here for that reason. Her spirit wanders the world, waiting for my father and I to sort ourselves out so she can live in peace and eventually find her true love.
Maybe we're just too self-centered to let her go.
I raised a glass of whiskey to my mouth and took a sip of its harsh flavor. I laughed out loud as I gazed at the moon from my balcony.
How devious Elena has been. In an attempt to reunite with his mate, the most vicious alpha gave birth to me again. But destiny hasn't made it simple. I dated my partner's fraternal twin, my mother passed away, and I'm positive that the organ pounding in my chest is no longer a heart.
But when I catch a whiff of that delicious vanilla scent, my heartbeat quickens a bit.
Even though I've always felt cold, Lucia somehow makes it appear like a thousand suns are beaming down on me.
I detest it in part. It's just not in my DNA anymore; therefore, I don't know how to be warm. However, there is a part of me that wishes to absorb all of the warmth she offers and hold it to myself. I know, I'm selfish.
I can't stand this woman. It seems like all the time and effort I spent into becoming a composed and strong alpha vanishes and transforms into an enraged beast with a single vision.
"Son."
My father takes out the chair beside me and takes a seat. He appears more worn out than normal these days.
He said, "She makes you happy?"
Joyful? No! Furious, indeed.
"And why do you say that?"
He laughed.
"What I meant to say is how she makes you feel."
With a groan, he continues.
"Son, I love you and I love your mother, but you have to move on with your life."
My growl goes out.
"Dad, how do I move on? How am I expected to simply move on from my mother?" I yelled.
"I did not say that! Your mother was happy and had a nice life! Denying yourself and your spouse is not helping you in any way."
"Easy for you to say, you didn't even care that she died!"
With a growl, my father pulls me from the chair by my collar.
"Your mom was everything to me! Are you following? She was my life! I held my breath, waiting for her! Don't you dare claim I didn't care—she was my love!"
"I know Kharis is always by my side; she was my love."
That's Blaine's mate Bond's beauty. It's from this life to the next, not until death do us part."
He turns to face the moon and gives me a backslap.
"I still feel her presence with me, and I have faith that we will cross over into the afterlife together one day. I was Alpha. I feel her absence every day, even though I didn't have time to grieve her in the conventional sense," he says.
His gaze drops as he considers what to say next, and then his eyes soften and he looks back at me.
"I never wanted you to be with Mirabel because I saw it before you did," he continues.
"What do you mean?"
"Lucia's always been your soft spot, even when you were a child."
"That's not true; we didn't even get along."
"Sometimes the people we need are the ones who show us who we are."
"And who am I, dad?"
"A passionate young man who hides behind a mask of indifference."
I keep thinking about what he said. I stare at my father, ready to respond, but I stop myself when I see the hope in his eyes.
Even though it started as a mask, this is now who I am. It's just frigid nothingness, with no emotion or warmth beneath the surface.
I replied, "Maybe."
He appears to be placated by it since he moves to exit through the glass door. Casting my gaze back to the moon, I ponder.
How could Elena have given me such a warm creature as Lucia? Something knocks me hard, and I snap out of my reverie. It seems that you can't have a glass of whiskey by yourself in Italy.
I sensed her presence long before she even entered the room, so I didn't even need to turn around to see who was standing in the balcony doorway.
"And what did I do today to be graced by the presence of Lucia Lorenzo?" I inquired, my tone laced with disdain. That's why my tiny wolf doesn't reply; she's that bitchy. Rather, she collapses onto the chair next to me and takes a sip of whiskey.
"You start drinking now," I say.
"I do," she answered.
Her large, brown hair encircles her face as I turn to look to my right. When we were younger, she used to wear her hair like this, but for some reason, in middle school, she started straightening it. She looks prettier with the curls.
"I don't like how you handled the situation last night," she replies.
My growl goes out. I was insane from the smell of Greg in Lucia's bed, and I had to use all my strength not to rip out his throat.
"Then, how ought I to have handled it? The next time, I'll make sure to give Greg a pat on the back."
"He was just talking to me!"
Yes, but regarding what? How come he had to be in your bedroom so close to you?"
"He was chatting with me about Mirabel and you! You were too close to her yesterday; I know that."
"I wouldn't use a stick on your sister! I find the woman repulsive," I sneered.
"You were just about to mark her a couple of days ago!"
"Lucia, it was all a farce! I was left with no other option."
Her once-ferocious brown eyes, filled with anger, suddenly became icy.
"Yeah, you had no other choice."
Before I can stop her, she turns and walks away.
"Hey, Lucia! I say, 'That's not what I meant,' but she's already left.
With her face a mess of blood, she's lying in my arms. Her eyes are vacant, and her outfit is covered with blood.
There was nothing for me to do.