The wind howled through the trees, thick clouds blanketing the moon in darkness as the storm raged outside. Rain pattered against the wooden cabin, a rhythmic tapping that mirrored the thundering of my pulse.
I shouldn't have been here. Alone. With him.
Dante stood by the fireplace, his golden eyes flickering with the reflection of the flames. He had discarded his cloak, leaving him in a loose white shirt, damp from the rain, clinging to his sculpted form. The heat inside the cabin was suffocating, but I wasn't sure if it was from the fire—or him.
"You're shivering." His voice was rough, his scent thick in the air—dark spice and something dangerous.
"I'm fine," I muttered, arms crossed. My Omega instincts screamed at me to seek his warmth, to curl into his strength and surrender. But I fought it. I fought him.
Dante's lips twitched as if he could hear my internal battle. He took a slow step forward, each movement precise, measured. "You've been running for so long, little Omega. Always afraid."
I clenched my fists. "I am not afraid."
His smirk deepened. "Then why are you shaking?"
I swallowed hard, stepping backward—only to have my back press against the wooden wall. His arms caged me in before I could react, hands braced on either side of my head. Too close. Too warm. Too much.
"Move."
He leaned in, breath ghosting against my ear. "Say it like you mean it."
I opened my mouth, but the words tangled in my throat when I felt his nose skim the curve of my jaw. His breath hitched, and a quiet growl rumbled through his chest.
"Art is forever, in the heart of forever hurt engraved like a tattoo."
His words sent a shiver down my spine. I didn't know if he meant them for me or himself. The way his voice dipped, filled with something raw, made my chest tighten.
I turned my face away, only to feel his lips barely graze my temple. Not a kiss. But close enough to burn.
Fuck being rational, give them what they ask for.
His growl deepened, hands tightening into fists against the wall. He was holding back. I could feel it in every fiber of his being.
"Dante…" I whispered, voice betraying me.
His forehead rested against mine, his breath unsteady. "I don't have to see you to touch you. And I fall back in love every time I touch you."
A strangled sound left me, half-sob, half-laugh. "You're ridiculous."
Dante chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through my bones. "And yet, you're still here."
I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted to run. But my body refused to listen.
Loved you more. When you flipped and lost your shit, I hugged you more.
My hands pressed against his chest, meant to push him away, but the moment my fingers curled into the damp fabric of his shirt, I was done.
Dante groaned, his restraint snapping as he crashed his lips against mine.
The world tilted, spun, unraveled.
He tasted like the storm outside—wild, untamed, addictive. His hands were everywhere, gripping my waist, sliding over my back, fingers tangling into my hair.
I gasped against him, and he took it as an invitation, deepening the kiss until I was drowning in him. In his heat. In his hunger.
His hands slid down, gripping my thighs and lifting me effortlessly. Instinct took over, and my legs wrapped around his waist, locking us together as he carried me toward the bed.
My back hit the mattress, and suddenly, he was hovering over me, eyes molten gold, pupils blown wide with something primal.
"Tell me to stop." His voice was strained, hands braced on either side of my head. "Tell me now."
But I couldn't. I wouldn't.
Instead, my fingers fisted into his hair, dragging him down. Daring him.
Dante growled, the sound possessive, claiming, intoxicating.
And then— I flush
"Oh shit, you're in heat." His eyes harden. He looks at me as if he is contemplating something, then takes me on top of himself like I weighed nothing.
"Come on top and ride it like you stole it," he growls.
He devoured me.
Morning came too soon.
I awoke to the scent of burning wood and rain-soaked earth. The fire had died down to glowing embers, casting flickering shadows across the cabin walls. Dante was still asleep beside me, an arm lazily draped over my waist as if claiming me even in his dreams.
I watched him, studying the way his dark lashes fanned over his cheeks, the soft parting of his lips. He looked almost peaceful—almost human.
But I knew better.
I shifted carefully, trying to untangle myself from his hold, but his arm tightened. Trapped.
"You're not leaving," he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
I stiffened. "I wasn't—"
Dante cracked one golden eye open, amusement glinting there. "Liar."
I huffed, shoving at his chest. "Let me go."
"No."
My breath caught. "Dante—"
He rolled onto his back, pulling me with him until I was sprawled against his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my spine, his touch too intimate, too familiar.
"Residue that lingers from your past creates itself. But your pride has to die."
My throat tightened. He always had a way of saying things that rattled something deep inside me.
I didn't respond, because I didn't know how.
His fingers lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Stay."
I swallowed hard. "Why?"
His eyes softened, the golden intensity dimming. "Because you're mine."
I shook my head. "You can't just—"
He silenced me with a kiss—soft this time, unhurried. A promise.
My body betrayed me, melting into him, into the warmth, the safety, the illusion.
But illusions never lasted. And I had the sinking feeling that this one was about to shatter.