I feel bad, but at the same time, his reaction is pissing me off. If I could walk, I’d storm out of the gym right now, but only because of his ability to strip me bare and force me to admit things. I’m just not sure I have the strength, because saying I trust them is also giving them the means to destroy me. And, shit, I’m so tired of being destroyed.
Dante being himself, he doesn’t attempt to hide the devastation he feels. But at he lets control of his designation, his scent flooding the gym so it’s all I breathe, his presence like a touch on my skin. “I couldn’t hurt you if I tried,il mio tutto,” he admits quietly before going on. “I tied you to the bench and got the knife to cut off your gym shorts, so I could lick your pussy before I knotted you. And, I mean, I still will, but first, it looks like we need to have a chat.”
I bite my lip and slow my breathing, trying to control the gathering storm. I hate feeling like this. I desperately want to believe Pack De Luca is it for me, but I’ve seen proof that life isn’t like a romance movie too many times.
“We’ve already talked about how effortlessly you’ve become a part of us, but now I’m wondering if you’re saying things you think we want you to say, or if you’re even in this as much as we are.”
I don’t know how to answer myself, let alone reply to him. My eyes fall away from his as my head fills with a hundred or so different realities. He sighs in defeat when the silence stretches out, and when he moves, it’s to cut my feet loose.
“Dante.” I barely speak loud enough to be heard, but he stops.
“I wish I could slay all the things holding you back. I really fucking do. And I know you’re fighting against things I can’t see, but open your eyes, and hear what I’m saying, what my brotherand Matty are too—we’re so fucking Team Layne it’s not funny. We are happening so fast, my head is spinning, and I know if all the voices get too much and you leave, I won’t ever fucking recover. But, in my heart, I also know I’d risk everything to spend however long we have. If those sixty days we agreed on are all we have, then I’m going to love you so fucking hard that you will never doubt I was in this with everything I am.”
He wraps his hand around my face to tip my head back, ignoring the tears pooling in my eyes but not the emotion behind them. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I’m dropping all this heavy shit on your lap, but I’m also not sorry, because how else will you know if I don’t tell you?”
I get so lost in his eyes, completely cast away from reality, while I search for answers that are already in front of me. I must drift off or something, because the next time I blink, I’m back downstairs in my bedroom, Bella’s rump under my cheek and Edward’s body pressed against my back.
A small knock on my door pulls me from my head. Dante pushes it open, and then, without an invitation, he climbs onto my bed, squirming his massive frame into the small space between Bella and the wall.
“Hey,” he says. And it’s enough. One word and my chest aches, while all the emotion that was flooding my throat and filling my dark thoughts gets slammed by my determination not to destroy what is possibly the most incredible thing to ever happen to me.
“Bella, go,” I say, and I roll away to give her the room to jump to her feet and get off. In the next breath, I am closing the distance—physically and metaphorically—between me and Dante. “I’m sorry. I hate that you get this version of me, but goddamn, you are convincing in your argument that I should trust you.”
Shoving myself up on top of his body, I climb higher until I can sit on his chest and look down at his face. And he’s not being smug or looking triumphant; he looks like he’s the manifestation of all my hopes and dreams. “I think I should get bonus tongue time because I’m recovering from my issues faster than ever. Plus, not once have I run away.”
He scratches his chin, looking away, as if he’s really thinking about that, but his other hand squeezes my waist, already agreeing. “I’ll have to consider that. You did try pretty hard today, but I think even you can agree it wasn’t your best attempt.”
I smack his chest. “Dante!”
When he looks back at me, those blue eyes are dazzling and full of the beautiful things in life. “You remember…” He reaches up and snags a hand around the back of my neck to pull me down, trailing his thumb lower, over the tracking device under my skin. “We’re not going to leave you, lose you, or let you get away. Now, get down here and let me kiss you until you’re a squirming mess. Please.”
33
Dante
All the ways I wanted to prove my devotion are cut short when Valentine keeps calling my phone. The persistent interruption is just going to continue until I answer, and if he was alone, I would have answered on the first ring. But he’s not, which means he’s not in any danger.
“Yeah?”
“Busy?” he snaps.
I cast a look at Layne. Her lips are puffy and her thigh is resting between mine, our bodies as close as can be without me being inside her. But sometimes a fully dressed make-out session is just as sweet. Pretty sure I was just about to shoot my load by her grinding her hot body all over mine.
“Always busy, brother. What’s going on? Did everything go okay with Ronin?”
“Ronin is currently gaining altitude on his way back to Ireland with the package he wanted me to collect in his hand.”
“Yeah? What was it you had to get for him?”
“An urn.”
I hear Valentine’s resignation.
“Fuck me. Don’t tell me it was his sister’s.”
My stomach drops when I realize how close we came to a war in our world. Ronin would have done anything and everything to get this little sister’s urn back. She meant the world to him. And if I was in his shoes, I’d be as vicious as he clearly was.
The two men Valentine told us about, who were assassinated, got off pretty easy, since they’re already dead. For that bullshit to have happened here, as opposed to in Ireland, means alliances between enemies were being formed by a shared desire to get rid of a major player within the syndicates. In this case, Ronin.
