“You’re mine.”
It’s not a correction. It’s a fuckingdeclaration.
He lowers himself over me again, the heat of his skin searing into mine. The pain of his injuries should slow him down, but ifanything, it sharpens him. Makes him move with purpose. Withneed.
He kisses me like I’m his salvation and his damnation all at once.
His hands slide beneath my shirt, rough palms skimming over my skin. I’m burning everywhere he touches. He lifts the fabric slowly, exposing me inch by inch, and the look on his face—devastation.Like I’m both agony and ecstasy, the beginning and end of his ruin.
When he finally bares me completely, he just stares.
“Christ,” he mutters, almost like a prayer. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
I reach up, threading my fingers into his hair, tugging him down until our mouths crash together again. The kiss turns brutal, desperate. Tongues sliding, teeth clashing, breath shared like it’s the only oxygen left.
“Take it off,” I whisper, tugging at his belt.
His smirk is lethal. “Say please.”
I glare. He presses his hips down, and the friction makes my vision blur.
“Please.”
That’s all it takes.
He strips for me, slow and unhurried now, like every second is a lesson in torment. Every inch of him revealed makes my pulse spike higher. The V at his hips. The trail of ink that disappears into darkness. The bruises on his thighs. The blood drying on his abs. All of it ishim.All of itmine.
“Are you ready?” he asks, voice rough, eyes burning into mine.
I nod. “Dante—I wantyou.”
He doesn’t make me wait.
He settles between my thighs, kisses me one last time like he’s about to end me—and then he presses in.
Slow. Deep. Endless.
I gasp, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders. There’s pain, sharp and blinding—but he stills, his body trembling with the effort not to move.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, lips brushing my ear. “Let me in. Let mehaveyou.”
And I do.
I let him have every single inch of me.
Because Dante isn’t just in my body.
He’s under my skin. In my blood. Branded across my fucking soul.
CHAPTER 26
Dante
She says she wants me.
And I lose my fucking mind.
I push in slow, burying myself inch by inch, every muscle in my body taut with restraint. Her walls clench around me, tight, hot, perfect. Too perfect. The kind of perfect that makes a man believe in fate, in gods, in war—because nothingthis goodcomes without a cost.
