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“This place was so creepy,” Amara muttered, watching it get smaller in the rear-view mirror. “How did the Morana’s airport guy even know about this?”
Dante contemplated for a moment, driving them out of the woods and onto the dirt road cutting through the open fields. “He’s the Shadowman.”
Amara turned to look at him, seeing the full moonlight pouring in through the windshield, casting a soft, romantic glow over his features. She thought about what he’d said, interposing it with what she knew, and agreed. “It makes sense. That’s why she never saw him.”
The car jostled as Dante swerved the wheel, turning them back onto the highway. “He was there tonight.”
Her eyebrows went up to her forehead. “You saw him?”
“No,” he shook his head. “But he was there. One of the guys who escaped was found in the woods by our men, tied to a tree, a message taped to his chest.”
“What message?”
Dante glanced at her. “It said ‘good job’. He wanted us to find that place. He practically spoon-fed us this.”
“He’s playing with you guys,” Amara inferred, turning the heating up as a chill went down her spine. “Why?”
Dante stayed silent. They passed a few miles in silence before Dante spoke up again. “Alpha is my half-brother.”
That made Amara turn sharply towards him. Dante told her about his visit to Alpha’s compound, about the information he had discovered, about the tragedies his father had made of people’s lives. He told her everything, including not knowing if he entirely trusted the man or not. They were getting closer to the city, the roads still dark and empty, as the car flew by.
“He was nice to me,” Amara reminded him.
“He wanted to fuck you,” Dante amended, his jaw clenching.
Amara felt a laugh escape her. “That would’ve been funny though, what with you being brothers. I’d feel scandalous.”
Before her last word was out, Dante pulled to the shoulder of the road, turning the vehicle off. He undid her seat belt, pushed his seat back, and pulled her over him, sending her heart careening through her chest.
“Say that again,” he grit out.
Amara felt herself smile as she settled over him, her thighs straddling his hips, putting her hands over his chest. “You’re being ridiculous.”
One of his hands gripped her full breast, the other going to her ass in a hold that was nothing short of territorial. In the moonlight, his dark eyes gleamed like uncut obsidian, born of flames, cooled in winds. His masculine scent, that cologne she had loved since she first smelled it, permeated the closed confines of the car. He took over her senses – sight, sound, smell, touch – and she reveled in it, her heart pounding but desire coiling in her belly in known anticipation. This wasn’t like it had been in the beginning. Their desire then had been a wildfire – unknown, unexpected, untamed. No, now it was a kindling, a bonfire in the middle of a snowy desert, melting the frost, warming the bones, lighting the dark. They had been together a hundred times before and they would be together a hundred times more. But their need for each other had evolved – from being lovers learning each other, they had become memories on each other’s skin, every inch of her body knowing every inch of hers.
Given all that, all the years and touches between them, his hand holding her breast and ass sent heat curling through her spine, so familiar, so delicious, so wanted. Amara thrived in being desired by this man; she thrived even more in desiring him. For a long time after her assault, she had felt both undesirable and undesiring, not sure if she would ever find any sexual pleasure in her life, or get rid of the shame if she did.
Dante had introduced her to the spark of heat as a boy and taught her to master it as a man. He had been her first infatuation, her first love, her first kiss, her first lover that she had allowed into her body, her first everything.
But they had also spent all these years they had loved each other apart, across hundreds of miles, craving and needing but never having enough, loving in the shadows. While it truly was ridiculous that he would feel any kind of insecurity over her, she also understood. Their roots were strong but the tree had been cut, and now new leaves were sprouting. It would take time and nurturing for them to grow strong.
She leaned closer to him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. “You’re the beat to my heart, Dante.”
His hand tightened on her ass. “And you’re mine.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “We’ll be okay, right? With this life, with the baby, with each other?”
Amara rubbed her nose against his. “We’ll be okay. We’ll be together. That’s what matters.”
“And you’ll love me when I’m old and grey?”
“You know I will. You’ll be a hot silver-fox though,” Amara grinned. “I’d do you.”
“Fuck,” he chuckled.
“Dante?” she whispered.
“Hmm?” he nuzzled into her.
“I’m feeling a little horny,” she confessed, watching his eyes sharpen on her.
