Page 67 of The Fated and the Damned
It warmed my heart to think of the memories and mischief we would have made. How happy I might have been. But even with the traumas of growing up bullied and abused, I wouldn’t change a thing about my childhood. I loved my sister and mother deeply. And the trials I’d faced? They made me who I was. Made me fiercer than I ever thought I could be.
I wrinkled my nose as another thought occurred to me. “Can you imagine if I had grown up here? Dante would have been like a brother to me. No thank you.”
She laughed. “A fair point. It would have been nice to have a sister though.”
“It’s a good thing you’ve got one then,” I said, looping my arm through hers. For the first time, I was shocked to see raw emotion glimmering in her eyes. A rare glimpse beneath Margit’s hard exterior and iron mask. “Blood does not make family. András, more than anyone, is proof of that.”
She nodded, suppressing her tears. “That he is. When you have nothing, it is easier to let go of the possibility of something. When you have everything, it’s impossible to imagine having nothing. András, for all his love of finery, needs nothing but the people around him. He was abandoned once, so it’s the thought of losing his loved ones that worries him again.”
I looked at Dante, feeling my soul fracture into a thousand pieces. “I had little once, too. Now I have everything, yet all I want is him.” I gestured at Dante, then Margit, then all around me, knowing she’d understand. “Us. This family. I would give the world to see you all safe.”
She gazed at me sadly. “I trust you know then, why I do not beg of you that which you cannot give. Because I would do the same. Faced with the same odds, the same pain, I would give my life for family.”
“Margit, if something happens to me, someone will need to pick up the pieces.” I stared into her deep blue eyes, like endless oceans in the darkened room. “He will need you when it’s done. They both will.”
Our gazes turned to Dante and she took my hand in her own. “I will stand strong. I always do.”
We sat there in silence for a long time, sharing vigil over Dante’s sleeping form. At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because I woke with a start to find my head cradled in András’s lap, Margit nestled into his side. We’d both been moved into a corner of the room, a pile of blankets cushioning the floor and draped over us.
The fact I hadn’t woken when moved spoke volumes to my exhaustion, or perhaps it was simply because I felt safe when with my friends.
I blinked back my sleep-addled brain and carefully slid away from András so as not to wake him. He mumbled in his sleep, his head lolling on top of Margit’s at an unpleasant looking angle. I shook my head and rose to my feet, tiptoeing over to Dante.
He looked like something from a dream. All hard planes and chiselled lines, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he slept, his hair mussed and that inked chest rising and falling steadily. Seeing him like this—alive and utterly perfect—all the pain and doubt I’d been holding onto melted away, my heart swelling suspiciously large. It took me a while to realise my cheeks were wet and I wiped the tears away, a happy, choked little laugh escaping me.
I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, surprised to find them moving back, moulding to my own like a key sliding in its lock. A perfect fit.
I sank into that kiss, falling into oblivion as his tongue wrapped around mine, his lips like perfect fucking pillows against my own. Just the knowledge that he was here and safe after going to hell and back for me—quite literally—had my undergarments soaked.
“Dante,” I breathed, pulling back slightly. “I love you. Do you hear me? I fucking love you. I was too afraid to say it before, and now I’m afraid I’ll never be able to say it enough.”
His eyes flicked open, nearly black in the darkness and ever so dangerous. His chest rumbled against my own from where I’d apparently clambered on to him, because yes, the woman downstairs was a needy bitch.
“Where you go, I go, Kitarni,” he said in a husky, rasping voice. “I will follow you into darkness, or I will burn in your fire. There is no monster alive that could keep me from you.”
He kissed me again, desperately and urgent, his lips bruising, his teeth scraping against my mouth so hard it drew blood. I jolted in surprise, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me wetter. I traced a hand down his stomach, cupping his growing cock in my hand.
Before I could stealthily show him just how much I loved him, a ruckus sounded from above, and I jumped off the table quickly, stepping into the shadows by the stairwell. Dante crept off the table, the crown in one hand and a sword in the other as he shifted in front of his family, who were still sleeping soundlessly on the floor.
“Kitarni, Margit,” a voice called, and I instantly relaxed, realising it was Lukasz.
The panicked note and the shuffling of running boots made my heart skip a beat. What fucking now? I clicked my fingers, conjuring some firelight to see by, and he skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs.
“What is it?” I called, my stomach fluttering like butterfly wings as he gave me a pained expression.
“It’s the Dark Queen. Her army is approaching. The final battle is upon us.”
PART THREE
The Curse of a Crown
THIRTY-ONE
Dante
Blackblottedoutthehorizon like a swathe of fabric stitched against the skyline. It was endless, stretching far and wide. Kitarni’s palm slid into mine, warm and solid, and I rubbed my thumb over the back of her soft hand as we stood in silent solitude on the castle ramparts.
“So many,” she breathed. “How long do you expect we have?”
