attack from the sheer shock that someone aside from Tristan is immune to his power.”
Morana chuckled, well aware. "I'll try my best."
They stood in silence for a few seconds, Dante smoking and Morana contemplating, before she broke the silence. “So what’s the deal with Chiara and him?”
"Who?"
Morana rolled her eyes. "Dante!"
Dante cut a glance at her, smiling, before turning again. “You should be having this conversation with him.”
“I will. I wanted to know your thoughts,” she clarified.
Dante huffed a laugh. “Chiara is a viper. sleek, beautiful, poisonous.”
Morana looked away. “She told me she was raped by her husband.”
“She was,” Dante confirmed. “And then she proceeded to prey on barely legal boys who didn’t remind her of her husband. Don't waste your sympathies on that woman, Morana.”
That was twisted. And she felt slightly nauseous.
"Well, then," Morana rocked back on her feet. "Thank you for standing up for me today, by the way."
Dante gave her a curt nod. Not wanting to make it weird, Morana bid him goodnight and headed back into the house, completely through with the night. What she needed was sleep, good sleep and when she woke up this nightmare would seem better.
Climbing the stairs, thankfully not encountering anyone else on the way, she went to her room, unlocking the door. She entered, pushing the door behind her. But the sound of wood hitting wood never came. Morana stilled, turning around to see Tristan Caine holding her door open, leaning against the doorjamb.
Oh no. No, nopity, nope. She was not in the mood to deal with him tonight.
Ignoring his ass, she turned again and went to the dresser, dropping her heels on the side. The door shut behind her. Locked. From the way her body was reacting, she knew he was still in the room.
“Nice dress.”
Her hands paused over her earring, her eyes watching as his reflection joined hers in the mirror. “Thanks,” she responded, taking her earring off. “Maroni sent it as a welcome gift.”
His eyes flared in the reflection. Score one.
He took a step closer, his presence almost behind her. “Did you enjoy the buffet?”
Morana inhaled deeply, keeping her eyes on him. “I’ve only seen the dishes so far. But from what I’ve seen, I’m certain they taste really good.”
Before she could blink, she was pressed against the mirror, her head pulled back with his hand in her hair. Their eyes collided in the mirror, his breath on her neck, warm, soft. His chest pressed against her back, expanding with every breath he took, syncing her own breathing to match. Her heart started to hammer, blood rushing under her skin, her entire being thrilled at making him snap, at making him react.
“Look at all the dishes you want, wildcat,” whiskey and sin poured down her ear and dripped into her body, “but the only dish filling you up is right here.”
Morana fought back a moan at the way his teeth grazed her ear, his eyes hot on hers. “I don’t share.”
His hand tugged her head a bit, his nose inhaling her. “Neither do I.”
Stalemate. They were both breathing heavily. And then she remembered there were listening devices in the room.
“They can hear us,” she reminded him.
“Let them,” he stated, his nose running along her neck. “Let them also listen to what I’m going to do to anyone who touches you.”
His hand left her hair, coming to the front of her neck, holding her as he did, her pulse drumming against his palm. “I’ll break every single finger of the hand that touches you,” he whispered, writing death over her skin as she looked at them in the mirror, her nipples hard as though his words caressed them, his big form behind her.
“Then, I will slit their throat just on the surface, letting them bleed and howl while I skinned them alive,” he continued, making her shudder both in fear and pleasure, his eyes blazing on her, his hand simply holding her by the throat. “And then I will set them on fire.”