Chapter 27
27
CELIA
M arble angels loomed like predators as I fled through the cemetery, their wings casting knife-sharp shadows across my path. I was running, my breaths coming out in ragged gasps. A headstone caught my hip and I stumbled.
This time there was no fence to climb, no gate to slip through. Just endless rows of graves stretching into darkness, and the footsteps behind me getting closer.
It wasn’t Luca behind me. It was my father and Royal stalking me.
The graveyard twisted, reality bending like a fever dream. Panic clawed at my throat. Royal and my father were between me and Luca, but all I wanted was to get back to him. To Luca’s house, with warm light spilling from its windows. To his arms that could shelter me, his bemused smile that promised protection, even if it were only under his twisted terms.
My breath was wild and ragged. Dimly, I was aware I was dreaming, that I was kicking against the bed and not actually racing through the woods, but I couldn’t drag myself from my nightmare.
“Celia,” a voice whispered, soft and familiar. David . “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re going to make sure you’re safe.”
For one suspended moment, I existed in that liminal space where anything was possible—where dead boys could speak, and where I could be safe with these men.
My eyes fluttered open to pewter pre-dawn light. Dante’s face hovered above mine, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. Though he couldn’t speak, his expression held echoes of the comfort I’d heard in my dream. His half-smile was gentle but tinged with sorrow, as if he could see every shadow that haunted my sleep.
He gathered me against him with a tenderness that made my chest ache, his strength carefully contained as he drew me into the shelter of his body. A sob caught behind my ribs, more gasp than sound, as he pulled me onto his chest. His heartbeat drummed steadily against my cheek, and I felt my own heart slowly begin to return to a normal speed.
I felt anchored by his arms around me, by the solid reality of him. He didn’t need words to promise his protection. It lived in every carefully gentle touch, every watchful glance.
I must have dreamed of David’s voice. Or maybe…maybe it was real. Maybe the boy I’d loved had become my guardian angel, and he’d sent Dante to keep me safe.
The thought was absurd. There was no such thing as guardian angels in this world, or there wouldn’t be so many girls found mangled under overpasses. But it was night, and I was tired, and I let myself imagine a softer world as I fell asleep.
In my dreams, the dark trees rose around me again. But it was different now; I was dimly aware of myself dreaming, and that my cheek was still pressed to Dante’s warm shoulder, that his arms still circled me.
The chase had become a dance, each step a deliberate tease as I wove between moonlit trees.
I was being hunted, but now the thought filled me with excitement as I ran through the forest. I glanced over my shoulder, but I couldn’t catch a glimpse of Luca or Dante or Gabriel.
The thought of being pursued by these men, these dangerous, beautiful men, kindled heat low in my belly.
I ducked behind a thick oak, pressing my back against its rough bark.
“Celia,” Luca’s voice was a low growl that rumbled through the woods, closer than I had anticipated. “Where are you?”
My pulse jumped, every nerve ending alive, but this time, there was a smile across my face.
Then strong arms slid around me from behind, and Dante’s heat pressed against my back, his breath feathering across my neck. Before I could lean into his embrace, Luca materialized from the shadows like a fantasy made flesh, moonlight catching the predatory curve of his smile.
“Found you,” he purred, stepping close enough that I was trapped between his solid warmth and Dante’s steady strength. The air grew thick with possibility, with hunger, with promises written in the language of skin against skin.
Luca’s fingers traced a line from my collarbone down to the valley between my breasts, igniting a trail of sparks that set my blood aflame. Dante’s hands roamed lower, curving around my hips, pulling me even tighter against him.
Their bodies surrounded me in a delicious prison of muscle and intent.
Luca leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss. His tongue tangled with mine, demanding surrender, while his hands became bolder, exploring my curves. Dante’s lips found the tender skin of my neck, nibbling and sucking, marking me as his.
Their touches were deliberate, purposeful, and I melted into them. With each kiss, each touch, I belonged utterly to them, and they were mine.
I found myself panting, a sheen of want glossing my skin. Dante’s hands continued their exploration, fingertips dancing over the trembling planes of my stomach, dipping lower with each pass. A gasp slipped through my lips as he brushed between my thighs, sending a jolt of pleasure arcing through my body.
“More,” I begged breathlessly, my hips arching of their own accord into his touch.
Luca grinned against my lips, then lowered his face to capture my nipple in his mouth. I let out a gasp, my back arching.
Dante’s fingers dipped between my thighs, his thumb teasing against as his fingers pressed urgently at my opening. I let out a ragged breath that Luca captured in his kiss as if he wanted to drink my desire.
Luca’s mouth descended once again, claiming my lips in a fervent kiss that swallowed my moans. His hand cupped my breast, thumb teasing my nipple until it peaked, achingly tight. The dual sensations of Dante’s intimate stroking and Luca’s gentle fondling overwhelmed me, the world narrowing down to just the heat of their bodies.
Before I could catch my breath, they shifted, and Dante’s arms enveloped me in a new position. His lips left a trail of hot, wet kisses along my jawline as Luca expertly maneuvered my legs over his shoulders. The world tilted on its axis, and I was exposed again to Luca.
Luca’s tongue replaced Dante’s fingers, lapping at me with wild hunger, and I groaned as I clenched against his mouth. My toes curled against his back.
“That’s our girl,” Dante whispered in my ear, his voice rough with desire…and familiar. In my dream, I’d given him the voice of the man I’d once loved. “Luca loves the way you taste, pretty girl. But I want a turn soon too.” Dante’s whispers turned into a litany of lewd promises.
I turned my face toward Dante, seeking his lips, finding them.
Underneath me, Luca was relentless, his tongue lashing my clit and stroking into me with abandon.
My body convulsed, waves of bliss washing over me, as the two men held me up and covered my skin with kisses.
I awoke with a start, the fading echoes of my dream still pulsing through me. My core squeezed with the last phantom aftershocks of my pleasure.
The sensation was undeniable, and as my eyes adjusted to the faint light, I became acutely aware of Dante’s fingers resting gently against the damp fabric of my panties.
For a moment, I lay there, utterly still, trying to untangle the threads of reality from the dreams. Had Dante touched me as I surrendered to my subconscious desires?
And that familiar voice…David’s voice coming from Dante’s lips haunted me. Even if I had just dreamt it. I must have dreamt it for a reason.
I turned my gaze to him, taking in the peaceful ease of his handsome face. His dark hair fell haphazardly over his forehead; angelic calm had settled over those harshly handsome features. As I watched him, something tender unfurled within my chest.
Leaning over, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His breath hitched ever so slightly, but he didn’t wake. I pulled away, carefully extricating myself from the tangle of sheets and his gentle hold.
I shivered as I grabbed Dante’s hoodie from the foot of the bed, then pulled it over my head. The warm scent of his aftershave enveloped me, mixed with the clean scent of fresh laundry.
With one last glance at Dante’s sleeping form, I quietly made my way to the door.
I needed to breathe, to feel the solid earth beneath my feet.
The soft murmur of the ocean beckoned me toward the beach. In the sunshine, away from Dante, maybe I’d be able to make sense of what was a dream and what was achingly, undeniably real.
Because Dante, sweet as he was, was keeping secrets.