“Can’t promise that,” he confessed. “TheTwilightis part of me, as I am part of theTwilight. If I must be yours,Cuore mio,then you must love me as I am… darkness and all.”
I’d expected some sarcastic reply, yet Dante’s statement was so sincere and solemn that it shook me, resonating in the farthest corners of my being. Unable to comprehend his full meaning, or to even find words, I just looked into his bottomless eyes.
With my silent acceptance, he turned with me on the bed, until my back pressed into his chest. Wrapping me in his embrace again, he slipped his left hand under my sweater and laid his palm over my broken rib. His skin-to-skin touch made my body shudder from the overwhelming sensation.
My wolf stirred, but I didn’t have time to consider what he incited in her as a stream of steady, healing magic flowed into me. Once again, his embrace felt so right, so comforting and familiar, somine, that I could do nothing but give into it.
Resting my head over his right bicep, I placed my hand on his healing one, and let go of the burdens that weighed down on me, finally falling asleep of my own will.
11
To say that I’d had the best sleep of my entire life last night was an understatement.
My eyes fluttered open as I lazily stretched on the soft, pillow bed, and a smile captured my lips, knowing the Dark Witch had kept his word. I was back on my bed. Unfortunately, my laziness halted when I realized I was not alone.
Dante’s arm was still draped over my waist, his hand pressed to my skin as our fingers intertwined, and his firm body rested against mine from behind. Part of me began to low-key have an anxiety attack, urging me to bolt from the bed—the only person who had ever held me when I slept was Isis, and that was only on the worst possible nights…
My wolf, however, was brazenly urging me to turn and lean fully into his embrace.
My wolf won.
Slowly facing him, I noticed that he was still asleep, and a certain glee filtered through me, mostly guided by curiosity. Until now, our interactions had only been either in his beloved darkness or tainted by distress, this was the first time that I could look at him, the man.
My gaze lifted to his face, but it was his hair that caught my attention first. The obsidian strands at the top were long enough to fall over his temple, the ends reaching his sharp cheekbone. It was shorter toward his neck, but the locks formed indulgent waves. Unable to help it, I slipped my fingers into it, feeling its silky softness immediately wrap around my fingers. His hair was thick and lush, and the layers along the back lifted, curling slightly.
A low sigh escaped him with my stolen touch, and he nestled his head deeper onto the pillow, but he didn’t awake, so…
Biting my lower lip, I let my hand glide down his hair, along his neck, and to the front. My curious fingertips traced his thick yet manicured brows, following the lines of his nose and the strong set of his jaw. His features were so perfectly defined that they seemed sculpted, like the pictures of the Roman statues Isis showed me once.
Everything about Dante seemed strong yet finely defined at the same time, the bones below his neck, his shoulders, and the slight shadow of an incoming beard along his jaw. Even the strands that fell over his forehead seemed placed there by design, to make him look absolutely delicious.
The Dark Witch looked nothing like the males I knew. Nothing like the rough shifters of theShadow Born Pack, and I secretly loved that.
Refined power exuded from him with every breath he took.
Andhe was shirtless.
Frowning while I tried to figure out at what point of the night he changed his clothes, I lifted the sheet, noticing his dress pants were gone, a pair of dark, silk pajama bottoms replacing them. Did he leave my side to change and then come back during the night? Or had he used his shadows to do it?
My gaze settled on Dante’s pouty lips, and my finger followed, caressing his perfectly pouty cupid bow. They twitched.
The asshole was awake.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he mumbled, sleep still capturing his words and making his voice delightfully thicker.
The sound seemed to brush my skin until a shudder ran down my spine in response.
“Mmm, yes. I like that reaction.”
“Shut up.” I smacked his arm. “Why are you in my bed?”
Dante’s smirk lazily awoke, as though me smacking him was his favorite thing, and he finally opened his eyes. “You told me to return you to your bed after you fell asleep.”
My eyebrow rose challengingly. “Me in my bed. Not you. We are not tied by some invisible bond.”
“Aren’t we?” he challenged, his amused forest-green eyes boring into mine. The moonlight-born spark that glowed in them last night was gone now, but they still managed to dazzle me.
Honestly, I didn’t have an answer, only the need of my wolf for me to lean into him.
