18: A Taste of Betrayal
18: A Taste of Betrayal
Luca’s POV
"I should’ve told her the truth. But the truth would destroy her."
I sat alone in the dark, my body still buzzing with the taste of her.
Isabella.
She was supposed to be mine. Completely.
And yet—I could still feel him.
Dante.
His presence clung to her like a shadow I couldn’t shake. No matter how deep I sank into her, he was there.
And that meant he was winning.
I should’ve killed him the moment he stepped back into my world.
But it was too late for that now.
\--------------
I leaned back in the leather chair, watching the city lights glint coldly beyond the window.
She wanted the truth.
And if I told her?
I’d lose her.
Because Isabella wasn’t just any girl.
She was something older—something tied to a prophecy no vampire dared speak aloud.
A prophecy that said when someone like her awakened, one of us would fall.
And I wasn’t going to let it be me.
\-------------------
A flicker of movement pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned toward the bedroom—only to find the bed empty.
Cold dread pooled in my stomach.
I should’ve felt her. Should’ve known the second she moved.
Instead?
There was nothing.
I shot to my feet, my muscles tensing as I scanned the penthouse.
Silent. Still.
But Isabella was gone.
And I already knew where she was going.
To him.
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Isabella’s POV
The night air burned my lungs as I slipped into the alley behind Luca’s building.
I should’ve felt scared.
I wasn’t.
I was angry.
Confused.
Desperate.
Luca had been lying to me since the beginning, and no amount of dominance or pleasure could cover that up anymore.
I needed the truth.
And there was only one person willing to give it to me.
"Come to me, Bella."
Dante’s voice echoed in my mind, pulling me closer with every step.
\--------------------
I found him waiting beneath the glow of a streetlamp, his tall frame relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world.
His silver-blue eyes met mine, and the corner of his mouth curved into that same wicked smile that had haunted me since the night I first saw him.
"You came." His voice was a smooth caress. "I was starting to think you wouldn’t."
I should’ve turned around.
Should’ve run back to Luca.
But instead, I took another step forward. "You said you’d tell me the truth."
Dante’s smile deepened.
"I always keep my promises, Bella."
\-----------------
Before I could react, he was in front of me, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from my cheek.
His touch was cool, calculated—but electric.
"Tell me," I demanded, hating how my voice shook. "What is Luca hiding from me?"
Dante’s gaze dropped to my lips, and the way he looked at me made my thighs clench involuntarily.
"What if the truth isn’t something you want to hear?" His voice dipped lower, rougher.
I lifted my chin. "I don’t care."
Dante chuckled softly. "Oh, Bella… you should."
His hand slid to my waist, fingers pressing into the silk of my dress.
And I didn’t stop him.
I couldn’t.
"You feel it, don’t you?" His words were a whisper against my skin. "The pull. The craving."
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat spreading through me.
"Luca says I belong to him."
Dante’s smirk turned sharp. "Maybe you do."
His hand slid lower, fingers grazing the inside of my thigh.
"But your body? Your power?" His lips brushed the shell of my ear.
"That belongs to me."
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I should’ve pushed him away.
I didn’t.
Instead, I tilted my head back as his mouth traced a slow path down my neck, his fangs brushing my skin—teasing.
"You want to know the truth?" Dante murmured. "I’ll give it to you. But first…"
His hand slid higher, so close to where I ached for more.
"I want to know how far you’re willing to go."
My breath hitched. I was already too close to breaking.
But before I could answer, the air shifted.
A cold, violent wave of power surged through the alley—
And then, a voice.
"Touch her again, and I’ll rip your fucking heart out."
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I whirled around, my pulse hammering.
Luca stood at the entrance to the alley, his silver eyes glowing with lethal rage.
His chest rose and fell with barely controlled fury, but there was something else—something darker—beneath his rage.
Dante laughed softly, his hands lifting in mock surrender.
"Easy, Devereaux," he drawled. "I was only keeping her company."
Luca’s voice was low, deadly.
"She doesn’t need you."
Dante’s smirk faded, his gaze shifting to mine—and for a split second, something burned there.
Possession.
"Maybe not," he said softly. "But when the change comes…"
He turned back to Luca, eyes glinting with something dangerous.
"You won’t be able to stop it. But I will."
And then—he was gone.
Leaving me shaking.
And Luca barely holding himself together.