Chapter 39
EMBERLINE
I’d only meant it as a joke, I thought miserably, yet here we were, back to being on opposite sides of some invisible line that always seemed to keep shifting.
“But for you…”
My heart stopped beating when Dante dropped to his knees and pressed his lips to my palm, his mouth warm and wet and real. Then he looked up at me, emotion glowing in his brilliant blue eyes like twin flames.
“For you, Emberline, I will always kneel because my pride is nothing against how much I love you. How I worship you. How the fucking sun rises and sets for you. I think…” He paused, as if choosing his words. “I think my life only began the day I saw you.”
“You mean the day you stole me at the altar,” I choked, tears flooding my eyes, turning him hazy, which was a shame because he was really magnificent, down on his knees, a mountain of pure muscle staring up at me with equal parts hunger and adoration.
“That day, yes.” His smile was gentle. “And every day after.”
Gods, he was killing me here.
“I want to make love to my wife.” He pressed another kiss into my palm, swirling his tongue against my skin, and my entire body turned into butter. “I want to make you feel good, then tuck you into my arms like you belong there forever and hold you all night.”
I ran my fingers through his hair, marveling at how every strand picked up the light.
“I would very much like that, Dante.” I tugged him up to my mouth, loving how his tongue slipped effortlessly between my lips, how every kiss was familiar yet brand new, how sparks ignited in my belly as our tongues swirled slowly together, as if we had all the time in the world.
Dante broke the kiss, eyes blazing. “Gods, I could do this all day, but I really want to make you feel good, tesoro.” He slipped the strap down my arm, pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder, then, with a twist of his fingers, undid the clasp.
In two seconds flat, he had me naked, nothing but pliable, willing flesh, aching for his next touch, for the next brush of his lips, eating up every whispered word—beautiful, precious, mine.
“And I’m yours, Emberline,” Dante told me gruffly, cupping my face in his huge palms. “Until the day you…”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I ordered, narrowing my eyes. “No more talk about endings. Not when we’re just beginning.”
Then I slowly, tenderly kissed every scar, every ruined tattoo, every divot and dip of his magnificent torso, his muscles filling out, now that he was getting sleep and feeding again.
My husband—I still got chills at that word—was a work of art, from his washboard abs to his slabbed chest, six foot six of glorious power.
He traced the faint pink mark on my cheek with his finger, drawing a shuddering breath before running his lips down my throat, nibbling and tasting, laving his tongue along my pounding vein as I slowly caught fire.
He loved me, all the way down to my soul.
And I loved him, in ways that would destroy me if I ever lost him.
Butterflies danced in my stomach when Dante slid an arm beneath my knees, then the room tipped, and I was on my back in the tiny bed, him braced over me, the blunt crown of his cock pressing at my entrance, adrenaline and need coursing through me in a heated rush.
“Yes,” I whispered, even though he didn’t say anything at all.
My fingernails dug into his shoulders as his cock sank in deep, a relentless invasion that made me feel claimed and taken and stretched until Dante was the only thing in the world.
I convulsed around him, impaled on his thick shaft, stuffed so full, I could barely breathe.
“Are you good?” he asked, bumping his hips forward, gazing adoringly down at me.
I nodded, riding a cresting wave of too many feelings and too many sensations, wondering if I could drown in this. If happiness was fatal because all these emotions were too intense.
“You are so perfect,” he said raggedly, “sometimes I can’t...” He swallowed. “I love you, Emberline Dominico. I love you so much I…” Dante didn’t finish that sentence. He kissed me instead.
Then he began to move, short, gentle strokes that had me sobbing out for more, then long, deep thrusts that sent pressure coiling tighter in my belly, my body moving with his, frantically chasing that elusive release that was just out of reach, just right there…
“Yes, that’s… I need more. I need more, Dante,” I moaned, arching against him, trying to drag him closer, deeper. Jolts of electricity flew through me every time his mouth closed around my nipple, his teeth pressing down around my hard, sensitive bud. “Please, please.”
I was on fire. I was stretched like a rubber band, ready to snap. I didn’t know what I needed, something to break this pressure, something to…
Dante wound his hand in my hair, pulled my head to the side, and sank his fangs into my throat, his mouth closing around my vein and biting down as he pistoned his cock into me, over and over.
The climax hit me hard enough, I exploded into a million pieces, scattering apart, mindless, my cunt clenching around his thick shaft, hips bucking wildly as my orgasm rolled through me in great, rolling waves, and didn’t stop.
Another hard thrust, and Dante pulled his fangs out of my throat and roared.
“Fuck Emberline, fuck.”
From far away, I heard his curse, felt the friction as his tongue dragged up the side of my throat, then he was fucking me again, my orgasm going on and on, great billowing waves of pleasure wiping me clean, and all I could do was hang tight and ride out the storm that was my glorious husband.
Finally, Dante thrust one last time, and his big, beautiful body shuddered as he spilled himself inside me, repeating my name, over and over. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight; I was never letting him go.
“You are mine forever,” I whispered. “Until the stars burn out of the sky and the rivers stop running, you belong to me, Dante Dominico.”
He took a heaving breath and rolled off of me. “Let me clean you up, la mia moglie più preziosa,” he murmured against my skin. I drowsed bonelessly as he tended to me and was only half conscious when he tucked me tenderly into his arms and pulled the covers up over us both.
Cold brushed over me, goosebumps rising on my naked arms.
Before me, the tattered veil floated on a phantom wind, those tattered edges moving too slow for this to be real. Okay, I was dreaming. I looked down.
Thank the gods. At least I wasn’t naked; that would sure make conversation with my parents awkward.
I stepped as close to that threshold as I dared, heart racing, adrenaline prickling through my awareness, every piece of me hyper alert. Searching the darkness for my mother. For father. Waiting for them to emerge like always.
I had so many questions for Ottavia.
About my uncle and his plans. About the Basin and its magic. About our chances of surviving this, although something told me not to tempt fate by asking to know the future.
I waited for so long, it felt like years, but for the first time, there was nothing but an empty abyss, so deep and so complete, I couldn’t tell how far this realm stretched. Forever, maybe, given this was the Underworld.
“Enzo? Ottavia?”
My words were swallowed up by that waiting silence, my skin prickling again, not in anticipation, but in terror because this place felt different than every time before. Threatening, almost. And then…
“Emberline.” I stepped backward as a whisper of my name floated out between the veil, something moving in the far-off shadows, too indistinct for me to recognize what it was. But big. Whatever this was… it was so fucking big.
Oh gods. What had Emilia said, right after she’d saved me? The dark will whisper your name more loudly? I didn’t think she meant literally.
I had to wake up. I pinched myself. Nothing. Okay, I had to put some space between me and whatever was inside because I felt like it was watching me right now.
I was retreating when the darkness caught me, shadowy tendrils wrapping around my arms, like the fingers of a penumbral god, cold as death, sharp as razor blades, dragging me forward with the strength of the universe.
I didn’t even fight, I was that scared.
My body completely shut down, some sort of primal instinct telling me to stay still, stay small, to make myself invisible. That maybe I’d survive.
An edge of the veil brushed across my right shoulder, and pain tore through me, the kind that consumed everything except my ability to scream.
The sound ripped out of me and echoed, ricocheting back and forth inside my head, and my next desperate inhale sent glacial cold spilling down my throat, strangling my lungs until I couldn’t make a sound.
Death does not like to be cheated. Emilia told me, and she was right.
I was going to die. Somehow, inside my dream, Death was reclaiming my soul, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Arms wrapped around my waist from behind, warm and strong and real, ripping me out of the darkness’ hold, pulling me back across the threshold to where the ground felt solid beneath my feet, where the air didn’t freeze my lungs, where…
I looked down at the familiar hand flattened over my chest and whirled around.
“Hey, principessa.” Nico’s lopsided grin was edged with guilt. “You sounded like you needed some help.”
“Nico? What is this? How are you here?” I stabbed him in the chest with my finger and winced. His chest was solid as steel. This was so weird.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, with all seriousness. “This place is dangerous, Ember. You can’t control what happens in this realm, and Dante cannot reach you.”
“Then how are you here?” I demanded.
“Go back,” he urged, ignoring me. “Go back to where it’s safe, and your husband can protect you from the monsters. Forget about this place.”
“I can’t,” I told him. “This is where I always end up. I was looking for my parents. I need to talk to my mother.”
“You…” His eyes flashed as he looked past me to the opening. “You speak to your mother in this place?”
He made it sound like that wasn’t… normal.
“And Enzo. They usually meet me at the gate.” Or whatever you called this place. I poked him again, just to make sure he was real, and he caught my hand. Gods, even his skin felt real. Warm, palms calloused in all the right places, his fingers long and elegant, like an artist’s.
His eyes never leaving my face, Nico brought my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on each of my knuckles. Slow and sensual, with his eyes hooded, like he’d been waiting to do this his entire life.
“Wake up, Emberline.” His whisper sent chills through me. “If I catch you again down here all alone, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”