Chapter 10 - Elena
Chap-ter 10 - Elena
The whis-pers in the hall-way nearly de-stroy me.
"…Nic-colò booked the flight al-ready."
"…She won’t even know un-til it’s time."
Each word is a dag-ger to my chest, slic-ing deeper than any blade ever could.
The blood drains from my face. My fin-gers curl into fists at my sides as the full weight of their be-trayal crashes down on me. They're send-ing me away. De-cid-ing my fate be-hind closed doors. Like I’m some frag-ile bur-den. Like I’m a prob-lem that needs to be han-dled.
Like I don’t even mat-ter.
A sick twist of anger coils in my stom-ach. My throat tight-ens with some-thing that isn’t fear—no, it’s some-thing more po-tent. A burn-ing, un-de-ni-able rage.
I dig my nails into my palms to ground my-self, but it doesn’t help.
They don’t get to de-cide.
Nic-colò doesn’t get to de-cide.
And Dante—Dante es-pe-cially doesn’t get to de-cide.
The be-trayal cuts sharper be-cause of him. Be-cause I trusted him. Be-cause, even when I knew I shouldn’t, I let my-self be-lieve—just for a mo-ment—that I was more than a piece on their bloody chess-board.
That I was more than a pawn in this war.
My breath is shal-low, sharp. The anger, the fury—it’s a fire in-side me, burn-ing hot-ter with ev-ery sec-ond.
I turn on my heel, storm-ing down the dimly lit cor-ri-dor. My night-gown whis-pers against my thighs, the soft fab-ric brush-ing my heated skin, but I barely feel it. The cold mar-ble chills my bare feet, but the ice in my veins is worse.
My heart is pound-ing.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Louder. Faster. Each step pro-pels me for-ward with reck-less de-ter-mi-na-tion.
I reach his door.
I don’t knock.
I slam it open.
The wooden door crashes against the wall, the im-pact shak-ing the room, but I don’t care. Let him be star-tled. Let him know ex-actly how fu-ri-ous I am.
Dante Russo stands in the mid-dle of the room, shirt-less, his mus-cles taut with ten-sion, his dark eyes nar-row-ing the mo-ment he sees me. A whiskey glass hangs loosely in his grip, half-filled with am-ber liq-uid, but he doesn’t take a sip.
His en-tire body stills.
The door slams open with a re-sound-ing crash, the sound slic-ing through the tense si-lence like a blade.
Dante starts to talk, mus-cles flex-ing, his dark eyes lock-ing onto me. “Elena—”
“Don’t you dare say my name like you own me.”
My voice is sharp, raw with anger, cut-ting through the air be-tween us. Dante’s jaw tight-ens, his ex-pres-sion un-read-able, but the flicker in his gaze be-trays him. He knows ex-actly why I’m here.
I step for-ward, fire blaz-ing in my eyes. “You knew, didn’t you?”
Dante re-mains silent.
My laugh is sharp and bit-ter, a sound that twists in my chest like a knife. “They’re send-ing me away. Like I’m some fuck-ing in-con-ve-nience—”
His face dark-ens, shad-ows pool-ing in his fea-tures. “It’s for your safety.”
“Bull-shit.” I shove his chest, my palms press-ing against his solid frame, but he barely moves. “This isn’t about keep-ing me safe. This is about con-trol.”
“Elena—”
“I am not your pris-oner.”
The words hang in the air be-tween us, heavy and un-yield-ing. His si-lence, his re-fusal to fight back, speaks louder than any de-fense he could have of-fered.
And it kills me.
I take a breath, my voice trem-bling now, the anger edged with some-thing more painful. “You’re just like them,” I whis-per. “You pre-tend to pro-tect me, but re-ally, I’m just a pawn to you.”
Dante’s ex-pres-sion shat-ters, his care-fully con-trolled mask crum-bling in an in-stant.
In a sin-gle breath, the dis-tance be-tween us dis-ap-pears.
Be-fore I can re-act, be-fore I can process the emo-tions twist-ing in-side me, he moves.
Dante pins me against the door, his body press-ing flush against mine, the heat be-tween us smol-der-ing. His hands grip my waist—firm, pos-ses-sive.
“You think I don’t want you?” His breath is hot against my lips, ragged with re-straint. “You think I don’t ache for you?”
I whim-per but refuse to back down.
I arch against him, tilt-ing my chin up in de-fi-ance. “Prove it.”
A growl rum-bles deep in his chest, dark and pri-mal.
And then—
His lips crash against mine, raw and de-mand-ing, claim-ing me with a hunger that bor-ders on des-per-a-tion. It’s not just a kiss. It’s de-struc-tion. It’s pos-ses-sion. His hands tan-gle in my hair, grip-ping tight as his tongue thrusts into my mouth, tast-ing, de-vour-ing, tak-ing. I meet his pas-sion head-on, my fin-gers thread-ing through his hair, nails rak-ing down his back, drag-ging him closer, need-ing more. Al-ways more.
Dante grunts against my lips, his hands slid-ing down to my hips, grip-ping tight as he hoists me up with ef-fort-less strength, my legs wrap-ping around his waist. The hard, throb-bing length of him presses against my core through the thin lay-ers of our cloth-ing, send-ing a sharp jolt of heat straight to my belly.
A deep, gut-tural sound rips from his throat as I roll my hips against him, teas-ing him, taunt-ing him, grind-ing against his aching hard-ness. His fin-gers dig into my flesh, his body coiled tight with re-straint, ev-ery mus-cle rigid with need.
“Elena,” he rasps, his voice frayed with de-sire as his lips drag down my neck, bit-ing, suck-ing, mark-ing me as his.
I moan, my head fall-ing back, sur-ren-der-ing to the on-slaught of sen-sa-tion. “You need me, Dante.”
His fin-gers flex against my skin, his breath hot, un-even.
“Say it,” I tease, lick-ing the shell of his ear, my voice sul-try, coax-ing. “Say you need me.”
Some-thing in-side him snaps.
And then we’re fall-ing—
Onto the bed, bod-ies col-lid-ing, limbs tan-gling, hands grasp-ing, mouths clash-ing in a frenzy of lust.
I flip us over, strad-dling him, tak-ing con-trol, feel-ing the hard lines of his body be-neath me. Dante smirks up at me, his dark eyes glit-ter-ing with a mix of amuse-ment and chal-lenge. “You think you’re in charge now?”
I roll my hips, grind-ing down against him, feel-ing the way his cock twitches be-neath me, how his body tenses, how his breath catches. His smirk van-ishes, re-placed by some-thing darker, more dan-ger-ous.
Lean-ing down, I trail my tongue along his jaw, down his throat, tast-ing him, feel-ing the rapid pulse ham-mer-ing be-neath his skin. I bite down on his col-lar-bone, suck-ing hard enough to leave a bruise.
Dante’s hands grip my thighs, hard enough to brand me, his breath ragged. “Fuck, Elena—”
I slide lower, teas-ing the but-ton of his pants, my fin-gers brush-ing over his thick length, watch-ing the way his abs tense be-neath my touch. Slowly, de-lib-er-ately, I free him, wrap-ping my fin-gers around his cock, stroking, teas-ing, feel-ing the heat of him, the way he throbs in my palm.
Dante hisses, his head fall-ing back, his jaw clenched tight. “Elena.” His voice is a warn-ing, rough, des-per-ate.
I smirk. “Re-lax.”
Then—
I take him into my mouth.
Dante curses, his hips jerk-ing up-ward, his fin-gers fly-ing to my hair, grip-ping tight, guid-ing my move-ments.
“Just like that,” he groans, his voice thick with plea-sure, his abs clench-ing be-neath my touch.
I move faster, suck-ing, teas-ing, my tongue swirling over him, rel-ish-ing the way he falls apart be-neath me. His breath-ing turns ragged, his grip tight-en-ing in my hair as he fights for con-trol. But I don’t let up. I take him deeper, hol-low-ing my cheeks, drag-ging my nails down his thighs.
Dante growls, his hips buck-ing up, his re-straint hang-ing by a thread. “Fuck, Elena—”
Be-fore he can fin-ish, he yanks me up, flip-ping me onto my back so his body cages mine. His chest heaves, his eyes dark and wild with need.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his lips crash-ing into mine, his tongue claim-ing me, his hands tear-ing at my clothes, rip-ping fab-ric, ex-pos-ing skin.
His lips trail lower, down my neck, across my chest, his tongue swirling over my nip-ples, teas-ing, suck-ing, bit-ing. My back arches, my fin-gers fist-ing in his hair, a whim-per slip-ping from my lips.
Dante spreads my thighs, his breath hot against my core. “You want me to taste you, princess?” he taunts, his voice pure sin.
I can barely nod be-fore his tongue is on me, flick-ing, teas-ing, stroking. I cry out, my hips jerk-ing against him, plea-sure crash-ing through me in waves. He doesn’t stop. He de-vours me, re-lent-less, his hands grip-ping my thighs, keep-ing me open, keep-ing me at his mercy.
I’m shak-ing, trem-bling, my body wound tight, my or-gasm so close I can taste it. I fist his hair, pulling him closer, need-ing more, chas-ing the fire build-ing in-side me.
Dante groans against me, the vi-bra-tions send-ing me spi-ral-ing over the edge. I shat-ter, plea-sure rip-ping through me, my body con-vuls-ing, my thighs clamp-ing around his head.
Only then does he move up, his lips find-ing mine, swal-low-ing my gasps, his body press-ing me into the mat-tress.
“Dante,” I whis-per against his mouth. “Fuck me.”
A dark chuckle rum-bles from his chest.
“Oh, princess,” he mur-murs, lin-ing him-self up. His cock teases my en-trance, stretch-ing me, fill-ing me. “I plan to.”
Then—
He thrusts in-side me, hard and deep, split-ting me open, claim-ing me com-pletely. A cry tears from my throat, my nails dig-ging into his back, my legs lock-ing around his waist.
Dante curses, his fore-head press-ing against mine, his breath ragged. “You okay?”
I grip his face, breath-less, des-per-ate. “Move.”
He obeys.
His hips snap for-ward, his pace bru-tal, deep, un-re-lent-ing. I match him, lift-ing my hips, meet-ing his thrusts, tak-ing him just as hard, just as wild. The bed creaks, the air thick with moans, curses, the slap of skin against skin.
He grips my thigh, hitch-ing it higher, an-gling deeper—
I scream, my body clench-ing around him, plea-sure coil-ing tight, wind-ing higher, higher—
I grab his jaw, forc-ing his gaze to mine. “Come with me.”
Dante groans, his thrusts turn-ing er-ratic, his body shak-ing, his con-trol slip-ping.
We shat-ter to-gether.
He pulses in-side me, his name a growl on my lips, my body tight-en-ing, con-vuls-ing, plea-sure crash-ing through us in vi-o-lent waves.
I cling to him, our bod-ies one, sweat-drenched, breath-less, the world fad-ing around us.
And when the high melts into some-thing deeper, some-thing more dan-ger-ous, I whis-per against his skin, “Don’t let them take me away.”
Dante pulls me close, his lips brush-ing my fore-head, his hold fierce, un-yield-ing.
“I won’t.”