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To every survivor, whether you carry your scars on your flesh or in your soul, whether you’ve seen the worst of humankind or fought the worst of fates, you’re still here. This is for you.
“You ever try to leash me, I’ll fucking strangle you with it.” If angels could sing, that was the moment Dante heard the whole freaking choir.
“You’re not going to walk through life, Amara,” he uttered roughly, each word a vow that cemented itself in her heart. “You’ll dance through it. And I’ll fucking remove anyone who tries to break your rhythm. I promise you.”
‘Fate is always weaving its threads, Dante. We just don’t see them until our eyes open.’
“I will kiss you and brand myself upon your heart, Amara,” he told her quietly. “Just make sure you’re ready for me to.”
brought her. She deserved this pleasure. She shouldn’t have to be ashamed of her body for wanting it. Even as she knew this logically, she fought the curl of shame that beckoned her, telling her anything pleasurable after everything her body had been through was wrong, that her desire for any man to penetrate her was wrong. No, no, it wasn’t wrong. Her wanting this man wasn’t wrong. Her wanting to have sex and feel pleasure wasn’t wrong. He groaned against her mouth, his tongue flicking at her closed lips, parting them, swooping in to lick at her tongue, and she felt it between her legs, right
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She was the beat to his heart and he was the beat to hers, both of them pulsing together. Maybe, they were both the same beats. Maybe, theirs was the same heart.
“We’re not a love story. We’re a tragedy in the making. There’s no happy ending for us. I feel that you have a better future ahead of you, and you should take it.”
“I believe in true love, and I believe in waiting for it. Would you have waited, Amara? If it had been you in the movie, would you have waited on a promise, not knowing why or when or how?”
“One day, I’m going to put my ring on that finger, Amara,” he grit out, pushing up another inch into her. “One day, I’m going to put my babies inside you. Just wait for me, baby. Please wait for me.”
“You’re the queen on the board, Amara. You’re my most powerful piece, but my most vulnerable. They get you, they get me, and the game is over. So, I’ll do whatever I need to make sure they never get you. Even if that means hiding you like my dirty little secret for the time being.”
I’m not a slave to my desires, they’re a slave to me.”
“I’ll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I’ll die by your hand, which I love so well.” William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream
“Own you. Fucking all of you. So deep you won’t get me out.”
Amara watched with silent eyes as he left, as quickly as he’d come. Like a tornado without a warning, he’d blown in, shaken her foundations, wrecked everything inside her, and left her standing in her living room with a probably-traumatized cat, hickeys on her neck, and a leaking pussy.
She got the news two weeks later. She saw the news two weeks later. Dante Maroni was dead.
It was time. Time for him to take the throne. Time for him to find MrX. Time for his queen to come home. Lorenzo Maroni’s countdown had begun.
“He and I, we are doomed to bleed from a wound that will never heal.”
“Give me your dreams and your nightmares, your pleasure and your pain, your fantasies and your fears. Give me everything. Be my queen outside, and my filthy girl inside,” he hammered his hips into hers, his words coming out rough, gritty, raw. “And make me fucking yours, so everyone who looks at my ring knows I have you finally. Say yes, Amara.”
“You’re my magnum opus, Amara,”
“And I am your humble servant.”
“No,” she whispered, her words falling against his lips. “You are my emperor.”
And though their world kept getting darker every day, empires he hadn’t known about coming to light, the one he was building nascent and dangerous and terrifying; though there were mysteries unsolved and questions unanswered and futures unknown; though there were possibilities of danger lurking in every corner, Dante looked around at his chessboard, and with his queen by his side, he felt ready to play them all.
The man watched from the shadows as the wedding commenced. Dante Maroni got married to an outsider, his heir already born. The Predator stood by his side, Morana Vitalio on the other. The kid he’d led them to sat in the front. And Alpha, the king of the south, sat in the back with a tiny woman. It was perfect for all of them. The man flicked a lighter on and off. He would give them a week, and then it was time to leave more breadcrumbs. It was time.
