Page 107 of A Dagger in the Ivy

What the hell is that glow?

Another howl cuts through the silence. And as the glow draws closer, I shift into a defensive stance, steeling myself for whatever is approaching me.

“Celeste.”

The sensation of Dante’s hand enveloping mine pulls me back from the edge of darkness, grounding me in the present moment. There’s awarmth in his touch that seeps through my veins, soothing the turmoil that churns within me. I feel a rush of relief flood over me, knowing that he is there beside me, guiding me back to safety.

He pulls me against his form, and I feel the bandage on his bare chest. He’s not only managed to pull on trousers, but somehow found me in the fog.

As he leads me through the cool, night air, his touch is gentle yet firm, a reassuring anchor in the midst of uncertainty. With each step we take together, I feel the weight of my worries begin to lift, replaced by a sense of calm that settles deep within my soul.

When we finally reach the shelter of his manor, he releases me, only to shut the door. Then he takes my hand again and guides me down the hall. When we reach his bedchamber, I plant my feet, part of me wanting to protest.

“What are we doing?”

He rubs his thumb over my hand, his eyes penetrating mine. “I need to be sure you won’t wander again.”

I let out a shuddered breath and nod.

Without another word, he guides me to the bed. The covers are already pulled back, and he slides into them, urging me to follow. I lie beside him, turning my back to his chest, and he pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me protectively. There is solace in the warmth of his embrace, in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing against my back.

Cocooned in the safety of his arms, I allow his presence to ease the restless stirrings of my mind. A sense of peace gradually washes over me, chasing away the nightmare that led me astray.

As we lie entwined beneath the covers, I find myself surrendering to the sweet embrace of sleep.

CHapter

Thirty-Nine

My body is buzzing with comfort. The steady rhythm of warm breaths on my neck brings me to the realization that I’m not alone. I blink, remembering exactly where I am.

Dante’s bed.

His arm is wrapped around me, and his hand is under the shirt I’m wearing—his shirt—palming my breast. We fell asleep with my back against his chest, and we’re in the same position now, except now I can feel the hard length of his cock pressed against my ass. And I’m not wearing anything below my waist.

I assume he’s still asleep, based on the slowness of his breathing, but when his cock twitches, I can’t be sure.

And I can’t stop my body from reacting.

My nipples are hard. I squeeze my thighs together, nervous that he’ll discover the moisture forming between my legs.

He shifts, and his cock glides against me. I hold back a gasp and turn my head to look over my shoulder. His lips are on the back of my shoulder, but his eyes are closed.

When his hand releases my breast and begins to travel down mybelly, I panic and turn around to face him. I pull down the shirt to cover myself, and his eyes open, the deep grey locked on me instantly.

No matter how much I want him to keep touching me, I can’t let it happen. There are too many questions to be answered.

The morning light filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room. For a moment, I simply watch Dante, my heart fluttering with a mixture of emotions. The events of the previous day weigh heavily on my mind, the memory of our harrowing escape still fresh in my thoughts. But despite the danger and uncertainty that surrounds us, there is a sense of calm in this moment, a fleeting respite from the chaos of our reality.

Dante brings his hand up to my cheek and pushes locks of my hair away from my face. It feels as if there is an unspoken understanding between us, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed. In his eyes, I see traces of weariness and vulnerability, but beneath it all, there is resilience that speaks volumes.

“What are you thinking?” he asks in a low, rumbly voice.

“I’m wondering if your wound is healing. I’m wondering what we’re going to do about your brother. What to tell the king.” It’s not a lie. I am thinking about those things, and I’m also trying not to think about how wet I am.

He takes a deep, long breath, his gaze flitting around my face. “My wound hurts like fuck.”

I let out a laugh before I can control myself. “I’m so sorry.”

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