Chapter 6 #2
I pushed open the gate and stepped onto the ice. I wasn't wearing skates. My boots slipped on the slick surface, but I scrambled toward him, falling to my knees beside him.
"Dante?" I reached out, hovering my hands over his bare back. He was radiating heat like a furnace. Steam was literally rising off his skin into the cold air.
He flinched violently at my voice. He rolled over, scrambling backward on his elbows, putting distance between us.
"Don't!" he roared.
His voice cracked. It wasn't angry. It was desperate.
He sat up, clutching his left knee, his face twisted in pain. But it wasn't physical pain. His eyes were wild, shifting rapidly between brown and amber.
"Get out," he gasped, staring at the ice, refusing to look at me. "I told you... ten feet. Stay away."
"You fell," I said softly, ignoring his order. "You're hurt."
"I deserve it," he spat.
"Nobody deserves to be in pain, Dante."
"You don't know what I deserve." He looked up then. He looked broken. "You don't know what I am."
"I know what you are," I said, inching closer on my knees. The cold of the ice was seeping through my jeans, but I didn't care. "You're a wolf. You're an Alpha. You're a student who is failing Ethics."
He let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "I'm failing everything, Arabella. Especially the 'staying away from you' part."
"Why?" I asked. "Why is it so bad? Because I'm human? Because my dad hates you?"
"Because I'm poison!" he shouted. The sound echoed off the rafters.
He ripped his hand away from his knee and pointed to the scar on his neck.
"You like this?" he demanded. "You like the scar? You think it's sexy? Everyone does. The 'bad boy' mark."
"I don't think it's sexy," I lied softly. "I think it looks painful."
"It's not a war wound," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's a memory."
He slumped back against the boards, pulling his knees to his chest. He looked small suddenly.
"My mother was human," he said.
I froze. I knew he was a pureblood Alpha. That was what the file said.
"She was?"
"My father was the Alpha of the Snoqualmie Pack. Massive. Powerful. No control. He fell for a human woman. My mother." Dante stared at his hands. "They say they were happy. For a while. But biology doesn't care about happiness."
He looked at me, his eyes hauntingly empty.
"When an Alpha mates... really mates... we lose our minds. You saw a fraction of it in the library. Just a fraction. But in the act? The Knot? It's violence. It's possession."
He swallowed hard.
"He didn't mean to do it. He loved her. But during the frenzy... he shifted. Too early. Too fast."
I covered my mouth with my hand. I knew the physics. A full shift during intimacy... a human body couldn't withstand that mass.
"She died," Dante whispered. "He crushed her. He broke her ribs, her spine. He killed the only thing he ever loved because he couldn't control the beast."
Tears pricked my eyes. "Dante..."
"He went mad," Dante continued, his voice devoid of affect. "He challenged me when I was twelve. He wanted me to kill him. He gave me this scar before I finally... before I stopped him."
He looked at me, his amber eyes burning with self-loathing.
"That is what lives inside me, Arabella. That blood. That madness. I am my father’s son. I am bigger than he was. Stronger. And if I let myself have you... if I let myself claim you the way I want to..."
He shook his head.
"I will break you. It's not a fear. It's a statistical probability."
Silence settled over the ice. Heavy. Suffocating.
He wasn't pushing me away because he was an asshole. He was pushing me away because he loved me. Or... he could love me. And he thought his love was a death sentence.
I looked at him. I saw the monster he thought he was. And I saw the man who was starving himself of touch to keep everyone else safe.
I moved.
I slid across the ice on my knees until I was right in front of him.
"Dante," I whispered.
"Don't," he warned, pressing his back against the boards. "I'm sweating. I'm unstable."
"Look at me."
He wouldn't. He stared stubbornly at my shoulder.
I reached out. My hand trembled, but I didn't pull back. I placed my palm gently against the jagged scar on his neck.
He stopped breathing. His skin was scalding hot under my cold fingers. His pulse hammered against my palm—rabbit-fast, terrified.
"You are not your father," I said firmly.
He flinched at the touch, his eyes squeezing shut. "You don't know that."
"I do," I insisted. "Your father didn't have restraint. You do. You have so much restraint it's hurting you."
I ran my thumb along the ridge of the scar tissue. It was rough, raised skin. It wasn't ugly. It was just history.
"In the library," I whispered. "You stopped. You could have taken everything. But you stopped. You made sure I was safe. You held me together."
He leaned into my hand. Just an inch. An involuntary movement toward the comfort.
"That was barely," he rasped. "I was on the edge."
"But you didn't fall," I said. "And I'm not your mother, Dante. I'm not a victim. I walked into that library. I asked for it."
"You don't know the risks."
"Then teach me," I said. "Don't decide for me. Don't treat me like glass. If I break, that's my choice. But don't tell me I'm already broken."
He opened his eyes. The amber was swirling, deep and soulful. He looked at me with a mixture of awe and terror.
"You are the most stubborn creature I have ever met," he murmured.
"I'm studying the best," I countered with a weak smile.
He reached up, his hand wrapping around my wrist. He didn't pull my hand away. He just held it there, against his neck. Grounding himself.
"I can't promise I won't hurt you," he said.
"I'm not asking for promises," I whispered. "I'm asking for a chance."
He stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he turned his face into my palm and pressed a kiss to the center of my hand.
It wasn't sexual. It was reverent. It was an apology and a vow all wrapped in one.
"You should go," he said, pulling back, his voice hoarse. "Before I forget why I'm supposed to be noble."
"Will you come off the ice?" I asked. "You're going to freeze."
"In a minute," he said. "I need... I need a minute to cool down."
I nodded. I stood up, my knees aching from the hard ice. I hesitated, looking down at him. He looked like a fallen king, beautiful and tragic in the harsh light.
"Goodnight, Dante," I whispered.
"Goodnight, Arabella," he replied to the empty air.
I walked away, my footsteps echoing in the silence. I didn't look back. I didn't need to. I could feel him.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that no matter what my father said, or what Dante believed... we were past the point of return. The secret was out. The layers were peeled back.
I wasn't just studying the wolf anymore. I was falling in love with him.
And that was infinitely more dangerous than any bite.