Page 84 of A Betrothal So Bloody

“Stellina?” he whispers.

I bite back a sob.

I can’t do it. The Order’s assignment be damned. I release my grip on the blade, letting it stay passively tucked at my side.

The moment that I fully accept I will never strike him, I am imbued with a terror unlike anything I have known. Worse than being given my assignment in the first place. Worse than marriage. Worse than waking to find a vampire inches from my throat.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

“If you want death at my hands, you’ll be waiting a very long time,” I croak.

An eyebrow lifts. “What about your noble mission? Not very obedient of you, spurning your duty like this.”

I swallow hard. “There are more important things.”

His gaze smolders with affection as my words rush over him. There is nothing more I can say—or perhaps too much—so I surge forward and kiss him. It’s tender, almost shy at first. But his hands lock around my waist, and his arms wrap me up like I am his.

“You impossible little creature,” he murmurs before leaning in with a deeper kiss, his mouth sweet and mine feverishly hot. When we pause for breath, he meets my eyes with a desirous glint. “You must promise to tell stories about me when you return. Wicked tales that can only be whispered in the dark.” Another kiss. “Lament about how you simply can’t decide where my prowess is more impressive—in bed or in battle.”

I cling to him, chuckling breathlessly. “I quite like the idea of keeping you a secret.” When he starts to pout in protest, I bite his bottom lip, then whisper, “Our story will belong to me alone.”

His eyes flash both sorrowful and pleased, and I can’t bear to ask who he would want to share our story with. There is no telling what will come next, and I am determined to enjoy our time together while this is still real.

Mid-kiss, I break away from our hectic embrace. Dante looks utterly insulted, tensing like he might drag me back, but he promptly shuts up when I begin to strip off my armor. Each piece thumps onto the waxy grass slope after I look around to make sure the coast is clear. My boots come off, and then I’m sauntering toward the bank. My fingers slow upon the laces of my blouse. I bite my lip and rest my gaze upon Dante as I languidly step backward into the water—surprising even myself. But no one else is here to witness this, no one to judge. I’m untethered, free.

“This really isn’t helping me think of a plan,” Dante says with a world-weary sigh—though he scarcely dares blink as he tracks my movements.

“Whatever do you mean?” I shuck off my blouse–the last garment protecting my modesty—and undo the half-braid that pins hair off my face, unraveling it at a leisurely pace.

He manages to hold his annoyed, flat stare for all of a single second. I see straight through it, anyway. Dante’s lips part as I splash some of the miraculously tepid water over my chest to acclimate myself. It ribbons down my naked body in rivulets, casting goosebumps everywhere.

“Alright, fuck the plan.” He grins wolfishly as he chases me into the water, stripping as he goes.

I tear away from him as he wades in, possessed by a wild impulse to make him pursue me clean across the pond before he gets the prize of touching me. But Dante closes in on me with urgency befitting a soldier. I barely make it ten feet before his body crashes into me, arms crushing around my waist from behind.

He wheels me off my feet like I’m weightless, sending waves of water everywhere, drenching us both. I shriek with laughter—an utterly girlish, carefree sound. It shocks me to hear it exit my lungs, like I had stolen it from someone else—someone with a life not waist-deep in death.

I fight him, squirming in his arms just to provoke those luscious muscles to tighten around me. For a few beats, he lets me at it, and I feel his grin buried against my hair. The pond is shallow enough here that I can stand on my feet, toes pushing against the smooth stones at the bottom so I can twist to face him. The sight of his body dripping with water and dappled in soft light is nothing short of godlike.

“Look at you, still so eager,” Dante murmurs. “Like what you see?”

Color floods my cheeks as his smile turns wicked. It shouldn’t matter that I’ve been caught staring after what we’ve already done—but I can’t let my wounded pride remain empty-handed. With a coy smirk, I hook my leg around his, and with one swift movement—before he can shove me off—I pull hard, knocking him off his feet and sending him under the water with a splash.

He surfaces with a chuckle, this time catching me when I’ve almost made it to the opposite bank. Towering oaks grow into the water on this side, their roots looping right into the lapping waves—something that, in the back of my mind, I register should be impossible. Their winding branches create a canopy overhead, casting dancing shadows that shift with the fae lights that cling to leaves and flowers.

Laughter melts into sighs. We grip each other like we’re single-handedly keeping the other from melting out of existence. Emboldened, I grab his shoulders and shove him backward as hard as I can—forcing his back against the nearest tree. My body thrills at the novelty of each sensation—the slick plane of his toned abdomen against mine, his hands buried in my wet hair, the probe of his tongue.

“I need you,” I breathe. “I need you everywhere.”

“Don’t say that,” Dante pants.

“Why not?”

He pulls back, his breathing heavy. “Because I won’t stop.”

This gets a shiver out of me. My heart hammers faster, anticipation and just a whisper of fear making my mouth go dry.

“Then don’t,” I whisper. “I’m already damned, you know.”