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Dante sank deep into me, tightening his hold until there wasn’t a breath between us anywhere. “That is love, Wintergreen. Where parting makes you want to scream, and giving warms you. Loss feels like an eternal void that can’t be bridged. When all you want is to be with that person forever.” He nuzzled my neck, nipping and licking his hurts. “It might take some time to recognise it. Build on it. I know you’ve–”
“I love you,” I blurted.
The pressure in my chest eased, replaced with a heat consuming me from the inside.
He blinked. “Don’t rush this, Celeste. I won't let you take those words back.”
“I’m not taking them back,” I whispered. “And I'm not letting you let me go either. But if you don’t fuck me properly again, I might hurt you. I still have a gun,” I added, just to spice up the bargain. I waved the weapon off to one side, my finger over the trigger but holding it carefully aimed away, toward the body of my father.
What? The asshole could come back.
Dante laughed, surprise lighting his face for a split second before he slammed his hand over the wrist holding the gun, slapping my hand into the cement floor. His other hand gripped my hip, digging in hard enough to mark as he let loose his rage and fucked me like I was the only obsession he every harboured, or ever wanted.
His kisses softened, and he growled down at me once more before he stole my breath again.
Mine,he mouthed.
Then neither of us had breath to speak with for a long, long time.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DANTE
Iwoke in my housein the mountains overlooking the college lands from a distance with Celeste on my chest. Her breaths were soft, her scars smooth beneath my fingers as I traced over them. We collected the few things we needed from her old apartment, set off the fire alarm to evacuate it and burned the place to the ground. It turned out her father owned the entire building, and ran an illegal brothel from its rooms with often undocumented girls and minors as his ‘hosts’.
With the man dead and my father’s second I learned took over his territory and was now negotiating to take over Celeste’s father’s reign behind his back still oozing brains in the basement of the building where we shot them all, she was safe. The territory would be taken out by others, but Celeste had never been an active part of her father’s networking, and her sheltered life worked in our favour.
The local gangs met over a barrel of the Frenchman's rare cognac, quaffing it like the cheap shit they probably thought it was and divvied up the land like it was so many properties on a board game.
I held Celeste to me throughout that meeting, each of us holding a loaded gun, though thankfully neither of us had to use them. The deal was simple. Work out the lands they wanted, and we walked away.
Her bank account remained hers, though with the fund I earned myself over the years as a hired killer, neither of us had to do anything we didn’t want for the rest of our lives. Celeste opted to remain studying at Rippton U, and I would take her down the mountain on my bike each day for classes once the semester resumed after the holidays.
Right now we had a few days of peace, and time to discover each other the right way instead of sneaking glances and watching from the shadows.
My heart held enough of those but Celeste was hellbent on healing me with kisses and sweet words and her own strange brand of darkness. Though waking with her head on my chest, stroking over the marks I left on her...this life couldn’t get much better.
