AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She needed to warn him to be careful about touching her, but darkness was closing in.
His shadow blocked the sun as he bent over her, and she cried out at new searing pain.
Had he stabbed her again?
No. He was pressing on her wounds, shaking his head as though arguing with himself about how bad the damage was, but the truth was in his eyes. He’d struck to kill, and he never missed.
Some injuries weren’t fixable.
Dante abandoned his efforts to stanch the bleeding and took her hands in his, which were coated so thick with her blood it looked like he, too, wore gloves.
She couldn’t have escaped his grasp if she tried.
I held his hand.
He’d remembered.
Dante tugged on her gloves, but the sodden leather resisted his attempts. Good. He shouldn’t do that. She curled her fingers, but she was too weak to stop him. Rough palms pressed against hers as Dante twined their fingers, stifling a hiss of pain.
Could a heart soar and break at the same time?
She didn’t want him to die, but the golden river of warmth seeping through her skin, his spark of life, warmed her from the inside, unfurling in her chest. The euphoric sensation lit her up from within, almost glorious enough to make her forget she was killing him. Even in her death throes, shetook.
Dante’s hands seized, crushing her fingers, and his breath went from ragged to tortured.
Her heart gave a feeble thump.
He collapsed on top of her, their hands locked together.
They were both going to die.
But not alone.
No one should die alone.
Twenty-Seven
Chi è all’inferno non sa ciò che sia cielo.
He who is in hell knows not what heaven is.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 19
The afterlife smelled like piss and sour rye, but Alessa began eternal life with a man in her arms, and if the gods wanted to reward her despite her failures, she wasn’t going to fuss at them about the details.
She ran her fingers down the valley of his spine, ridges of muscle on either side, and he moved against her with a low moan, stubble rough against her neck.
If she’dknownabout the perks, she might not have dreaded death quite so much.
And yet, the ground was hard and unforgiving, her entire body ached, and nearby, someone paused a slurred rendition of a bawdy tavern song to belch.
Which… didn’t seem right.
Forcing her eyes open, she stared into the muted dusk untilshapes and colors coalesced into a view of a brick wall, and closer, a head resting on her chest, face obscured by the angle. Muscles went tight beneath her hands as the mystery man groaned again.
Not the afterlife. Not a faceless man.
Dante.
