The Moral Dilemma (War of Sins Book 5)

RAFAELO GROANED as he groggily opened his eyes, a deep sense of loss echoing in his heart.

What had happened? He couldn’t remember for the life of him. He knew it was from the drug, but this time it was worse. Memories jumbled together in his mind to the point that he didn’t know anymore what was real and what was made up.

How long had he been at the hacienda already? He thought it must have been months at that point, but they felt like years. Time didn’t have a true meaning for him anymore—not when his mind was just one big void that seemed to swallow up everything around him.

He blinked furiously as he tried to remember what had happened and why he was feeling so ill—almost as if he’d been run over by a truck.

There were some details that immediately came back to him. He’d been sold to the hacienda after Armand had died. Initially, he’d been working at the temple. He frowned. For some reason, he’d been locked in isolation, but he could not recall why. There was a brief image of an altercation, but no context behind it. And after the isolation…

The drugs.

His body tensed as that particular detail came back to him. He’d been moved to a different facility and had been regularly fed some drugs. Yet as much as he tried to remember more, he couldn’t.

He didn’t know what type of drugs, or what they did to him. He only knew that his body was weary, his muscles aching beyond belief. Whatever they were doing to him was affecting his health on a larger scale.

Then there was also her.

Lucero.

The voice leading him towards the light.

Unfortunately, no matter how much Raf sought to focus on her, he could barely grasp onto her. Her presence in his memories was tenuous at best. He knew her. He knew she was there. But most times, he didn’t know what was real and what was a product of his imagination.

She used to come speak to him through the wall. Of that he was sure.

They’d talked tirelessly about anything and everything, sharing all their hopes and dreams, but also their past and their regrets.

Some conversations, he could remember word by word. Others, he had to wonder if he hadn’t dreamed them up.

Yet as he honed onto the idea of Lucero, another face popped into his mind—one that was as beautiful as it was cruel.

“Goddamn it,” he cursed out loud.

Why did he have to think of her?

Yes, she might have made an impression since she was quite honestly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But he’d quickly learned just how deceiving those appearances were.

Why the hell did he have to picture her? He doubted she’d ever spared him a thought, even when he’d saved her. And going by what Lucero had told him about her, she was a bitter bitch to her friends as well.

His lips pulled back into a snarl, his hands curling into fists.

He didn’t know why he hated her so much. Of course, there was the obvious fact that she’d treated him like dirt. But there was more, wasn’t it?

The guards treated him like dirt. The master treated him worse than dirt. So why the hell did it matter so much what she thought of him?

Rafaelo didn’t know.

His mind must be playing tricks on him. He should be focusing on his Lucero, not wasting time thinking about a cruel bitch that got off on humiliating others. So what if she was an attractive woman? She was also rotten to the core and Rafaelo wanted nothing to do with her.

Guilt swarmed into his heart.

His love and attention belonged exclusively to Lucero. He shouldn’t spare a thought for another woman that was not her.

He supposed this all stemmed from the fact that while he knew who Lucero was at her core, he didn’t know what she looked like. If he did, maybe he would have pictured her instead of that odious bitch.

But the fact of the matter was that he had only a vague idea of what she looked like. He had the descriptions he’d heard about her, and he had some foggy image of seeing her from a distance. But aside from her light hair and her small build that he’d seen from afar, he couldn’t envision her at all.

Getting his bearings together, he groaned out loud as he rolled off of the bed. He was a little wobbly as he got to his feet, moving tentatively around the room.

He reached a table, and pouring himself a glass of water, he drank greedily as he let his eyes roam about the room.

Odd how despite knowing that he’d been there for a while, it all felt so strange, almost as if he couldn’t trust his own memories.

Downing one glass, he poured another.

It was right at that moment that music blared in the hallway, the melody exploding on his tongue—a sweet taste twinged by the bitterest of regrets.

He stopped, his glass midair, as he just stared at the door. The urge to go out and follow the music to its source was all consuming.

It was something he hadn’t encountered before. It wasn’t a known piece, that was for sure. He had a knack for recognizing almost any piece since he associated each with different sensations. But this… This was something completely different.

Something so utterly delicious it made him feel on the edge of the precipice. Like the addict he was, it was steering him to that precarious edge, telling him to jump—get drunk on the pure musicality; the decadence that seemed to seep into his every pore.

Suddenly, as he stared at his empty room, flashes appeared in his mind.

He saw himself kissing and licking his way down a female body. His fingers were digging into her plush skin as he thrust into her, losing himself to the wonders of her body.

He felt it as vividly as he tasted her voice on his tongue.

“Raf,” she moaned, clutching at his shoulders as she urged him on. “I love you.”

“I love you too, mi luz,” he’d answered back, sucking on the skin under her neck and leaving his mark on her.

But just as it appeared, it quickly shattered.

Raf blinked as he looked around, trying to make sense of what had just happened. It wasn’t the first time he’d experienced something like that. He’d had dreams before—hot, erotic dreams in which he worshiped her body and left his mark on her, making her his in all ways a man could claim a woman. Her face was forever out of reach, but her voice wasn’t.

It was her. He knew it was her.

But those had been dreams—fantasies he’d allowed himself to have in the privacy of his mind. He might not know what she looked like, but he knew the feel of her in his arms and that was enough for him.

Yet this was different.

This was a fantasy intruding in his waking moments.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Maybe it was the drugs. He could tell they were making him more susceptible to arousal. And as he glanced down his pants, he sighed as he saw them tented.

Yes, it was most definitely the drugs.

They were making him imagine things, craving things he couldn’t know because he’d never experienced them.

The music shifted, the tune becoming more calming and refreshing. For Raf, it was almost as if someone offered him a refreshment after an overly sweet desert. In fact, the combination was so perfect, he felt full just from listening to it.

Going back to his bed, he laid down, closing his eyes and simply enjoying the music.

The new calmness that settled over him allowed him to gain a clearer perspective as well as remember other tidbits from the past.

Lucero had told him she was going to find a way for them to escape together. She’d asked him to be patient because she was being watched and she couldn’t get away to visit him for a while. And though a deep disappointment settled within him at realizing he wouldn’t be graced with her company any longer, he fully trusted her.

If she said she was going to find a way for them to escape, then he was sure she would.

“I love you, mi luz,” he whispered, holding the memory of her close to his heart.

As he drifted off to sleep, he allowed himself to imagine what their life would be like after they left the hacienda. He would marry her and they would live together in a remote place—somewhere where nothing could hurt them.

Yet as he tried to imagine the two of them together, wrapped in a warm embrace as they made love from dusk till dawn, there was only one face that crept into his subconsciousness.

One face. One person. But one he didn’t want to acknowledge.

As such, it was better to just ignore it and pretend it was a trick his mind was playing on him.