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Kaleb wasn’t a stranger. He’d survived her touch, and she knew how to use his power. This time, shewouldfulfill her destiny.
Together, they’d face the darkness. And afterward, her dream lay just out of reach.
Dante sat on the bed, watching as she dawdled over her makeup brushes, dusting her cheeks for the third time.
The clock chimed.
“It’s time for me to go,” Dante said.
She dropped the brush to go to him. “You’re not staying for my wedding?”
He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. “Please don’t ask me to.”
Nestling her face into the crook of his neck, she breathed him in. “You know it’s not that kind of marriage.”
“You don’t have to be in someone’s bed to belong to them,”Dante said. “My job here’s done. Besides, I’m still a liability. If the truth about me gets out, you’ll both be guilty by association.”
Swallowing a lump in her throat, she brushed a curl behind his ear. “Where will you go?”
“Planning to track me down?”
“If you’ll let me.”
“Alessa.” He sighed. “We weren’t meant to have this, and we definitely aren’t meant to have more. Not now. Not ever.”
“I’m not meant to be widowed. You’re not meant to exist. Maybe this time things aresupposedto be different. What if Dea’s trying to tell us something, and we just aren’t brave enough to listen?”
“And what would she be telling us? That a ghiotte and a Finestra are supposed to defy every law of natureandthe heavens for their own selfishness?”
“It’s not selfish.”
“I promise you, my feelings for you areentirelyselfish.” He nuzzled her cheek. “You told me to be better, and I’m trying, but I don’t want to share you. I’ve never felt so selfish in my life.” He reached for something and placed it in her hands.
A book.
Small, leather bound, full of his proverbs, and engraved with his mother’s name.
“For you.” He wrapped her fingers around it. “To remember me by.”
She wanted to speak all the thoughts in her head and feelings in her heart, but she couldn’t without crying. And she wouldn’t trap him with tears again.
So, Alessa accepted a final kiss and didn’t resist as he set her on her feet and pulled her close for one last hug.
She didn’t watch as he let himself out.
The book was still warm from him, a piece of paper marking the last page he’d read. Inside the cover, beneath the original inscription, he’d written:
Luce mia,
My mother called me her light, because I was hers.
And you are mine.
Being with you has been a gift and an honor.
—G. D. Lucente
She covered her mouth to hold in a sob as his words warped every remembered kiss into a silent farewell. She wasn’t ready to let go. She’d never be ready. Why had she let him leave?
