The storm outside had grown feral. Thunder cracked so loud the bedframe shivered; lightning turned the room into a theatre of shadows. Ishani kept her back to him, clutching the blanket like armor, but no amount of willpower could stop the tremor that wracked her body when another boom shook the villa.
She hated it.
She hated that he would notice.
"Still pretending?" Dante's voice cut through the dark, low and smooth. "Your shoulders shake, bella. You can't lie to me in this bed."
"Leave me alone," she hissed, her voice sharp but betraying the tremor she wanted to hide.
Another crash of thunder ripped the sky open. This time, she flinched before she could stop herself. She bit her lip hard, cursing silently.
And then—he moved.
The mattress dipped, his heat surrounding her as he shifted closer. Before she could protest, his arm slid around her waist, firm and unyielding, pulling her back into his chest. Her breath hitched violently, her body stiff as marble.
"What are you—"
"Calming you," Dante murmured against her ear. His breath was warm, steady, threading through the panic of the storm. "You can tremble all you want, but you'll do it in my arms."
Her hands gripped the blanket tighter, fury surging through her veins. "Let. Me. Go."
"No," he said simply. His grip tightened, pressing her against the steady thud of his heartbeat. "If I let go, the storm will swallow you. And you'll hate me more for letting it."
Her throat burned. "I'd rather face the storm than you."
He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing her hairline. "You already face me, every second. And still, you're here. Still breathing. Still mine."
Lightning flared, and in that split-second brightness, she saw their reflection in the mirror across the room: his body caging hers, his arm binding her, her wide eyes blazing with anger… and something else she couldn't name.
Her pulse betrayed her again—racing, wild, like prey caught in a hunter's grasp.
"Relax, bella," Dante whispered, his hand splaying over her stomach, steady, possessive. "The storm will pass. But this—" his arm tightened, his lips so close she swore she felt the ghost of a kiss near her temple, "—this won't."
She swallowed hard, blinking furiously against the heat threatening to rise inside her chest. "You're a monster."
"Mm," he hummed, resting his chin lightly against her shoulder. "Then sleep in the arms of your monster. Better the devil you know."
The storm howled. Her body burned with fury and shame and something she refused to acknowledge. And though she swore she would never surrender, her eyes grew heavy, her body betraying her exhaustion, lulled against the rhythm of his steady, relentless heartbeat.
Dante smirked in the dark, tightening his hold as if chaining her without iron.
Tomorrow, she would fight again. But tonight—tonight she slept in the arms of the man she swore to hate.
like ,comment and subscribe