The echo of her shove still lingered in the room. Ishani stood braced against the table, chest heaving, fists tight at her sides. Dante's smirk hadn't faded—if anything, it had darkened, sharpened, like a blade honed on her defiance.
"You really do bite," he murmured, stepping toward her again.
She moved instinctively, skirting sideways to keep space between them. "Stay away from me."
He matched her, step for step, stalking with the patience of a predator who knew the chase was part of the kill. "Stay away? When you look at me like that?"
Her glare cut like glass. "Like what?"
"Like you're daring me to catch you." His eyes gleamed, his voice dipping low, velvety.
"You're insane." She tried to dart left, but he blocked her with a swift move, his arm braced against the table, caging her in.
The air thickened. She was pinned, his body dangerously close, his heat wrapping around her like smoke. Her pulse thundered, fury and panic clashing in her chest.
"You think this is a game," she snapped, shoving at his chest again.
He didn't move this time. His muscles held like stone, his smile deepening as her palms pressed against him. "It is a game. And you love it."
Her breath caught. "I hate you."
"Then prove it." His face lowered, slow, deliberate, until their noses nearly brushed. His breath fanned across her lips, warm and intoxicating.
Her eyes widened, her pulse a wild storm. She twisted her face aside, her cheek brushing his jaw. But that only made it worse—the scrape of his stubble against her skin was electric, unbearable.
"Coward," he murmured into her ear.
Her eyes snapped back to his, blazing. "You want me to hate you? Fine—I'll give you hate."
She shoved him harder this time, and though he shifted back a fraction, he only leaned in again, caging her tighter. Their lips hovered a breath apart now, the air charged, the world shrinking to the space between them.
"You call this hate?" Dante whispered, his gaze locked on her mouth. "Then hate me harder, bella. Hate me until you shake."
Her body trembled—not from fear, not entirely from rage. Heat swirled dangerously low in her stomach, a traitor she despised.
Her lips parted, a sharp retort ready—but the words died when his mouth brushed hers. Not a kiss. Barely a touch. Just the ghost of it, enough to ignite her blood.
She sucked in a breath, her head snapping aside, breaking the almost-kiss like it burned.
Dante chuckled darkly, stepping back at last, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "See? You fear the taste because you know it'll ruin you."
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she spat the only weapon she had left. "You'll never ruin me."
He smirked, wicked and sure. "Oh, bella… I already am."
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