Stolen: Dante's Vow

But you can’t come out of a life like she’s had and not be twisted in some way.

The DNA results came back to prove what Drake Gray claimed. That he is Mara’s biological father. And he’s been good to her. Giving her a lot of space, knowing she needs to go to him in her time. I can see she wants to more and more, although we’ve only spent a few weeks with him so far. I won’t hold her back and I won’t leave her to navigate it alone.

As far as Gray, he’s lonely. The more I get to know him the more I see it. He’s not close with any of his brothers and he no longer speaks with his ex-wife. No children. No cousins. Nothing. In a way I feel sorry for him.

In the year we’ve lived on the island with my brother and his family, Lenore and Noah and even from time-to-time Matthaeus, Mara has grown lighter. Happier. That glow that I saw on Scarlett and wanted for her, she’s getting there.

Scarlett and Cristiano had a little girl, Clementine. And Alessandro, for as little as he wanted a baby sister, is her champion. It’s nice to see my brother happy. Nice to be a part of his growing family.

I wanted to go after St. James for delivering Mara to Felix Pérez, but he’s once again disappeared. And when I mention him, Mara tells me to leave it alone. Says she understands what he did, why he did it. Says she doesn’t fault him. I wonder if he knew who the buyer was all along.

But I don’t want to think about any of that today.

Today is Mara’s birthday and she hasn’t celebrated very many of those. Lenore is preparing a feast. Gray is even flying over for a few days. Mara likes it when he comes for visits.

“Almost ready,” Mara says when I enter our bedroom. She’s just tying her bikini top.

I look her over. She’s stunning. She’s put on a little weight finally and looks healthy and on her hip is a tattoo of a single red poppy, the stem long and delicate, the petals of the flower a bright scarlet, symbolizing remembrance and hope. I was surprised at her choice but understand it. She’s strong. She doesn’t want to forget. Or maybe she’s accepted that she never will. And this beautiful, wild flower doesn’t so much hide the brand as overwrites it. Gives her back her strength, her power.

She keeps her hair shoulder length but has had bangs cut in. She rarely wears makeup and I love that about her. She’s a natural beauty and her most stunning features are her smile and her kind heart.

“Aren’t you swimming?” she asks. I’m still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

I close the door behind me. “I want to spend some time alone with you first.” I walk toward her. “Turn around,” I tell her and take the straps of the bikini from her but instead of tying them, I slip it off.

“Hey,” she protests, turning in my arms as I let the slip of turquoise drop.

“What?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her.

“I promised Alessandro I’d snorkel with him.”

“Alessandro can wait.” I kiss her again and walk her backward to the bed. Once she’s there, I slide my arms down to strip off the bottoms and only when she’s naked do I draw back to look at her. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

She smiles wide and puts her hands on either side of my face. “It’s because I’m happy.” She kisses me. “But really, we can’t do this now. They’re waiting. Lenore has cake and my father will be here—”

“Shh.” I kiss her as I push her again to sit on the bed and lean over to kiss her, forcing her to lie down as I pull my shirt over my head. Her greedy hands fumble with my belt as I kiss her neck, her chest, and I take her wrists to draw her hands away. When I bring my mouth to her sex, she opens her legs and arches her back, moaning and weaving her fingers into my hair.

“I love…” she gasps as I tease her sex, licking the length of her before taking her clit into my mouth and sucking. “Oh fuck, I love…” Her breath catches then and within moments, she’s coming, her body jerking once as she pulls me closer. I suck harder, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from her. Her taste on my tongue makes me harder, her hands drawing me up to kiss her once her orgasm abates. When I press myself against her she moans with an insatiable need.

“What do you love? You never finished your sentence,” I say against her mouth.

“I love your mouth on me,” she teases, teeth biting my lip. “And I love my mouth on you.” She starts to slide down to her knees, but I stop her.