It was the same place that burned when he touched me, when he taught me what to do with his body and what to do with mine. It was the same place that stirred whenever my family had been threatened in Naples and I’d stood up to protect them. Because they were mine to protect. Just as it seemed, now I was Dante’s to protect. It was a place of instinct, a primal impulse in my gut that transcended thought and even feeling. Dante was mine.
