Chapter 94 Seraphine
Getting everyone out of the penthouse was hell.
Actual, biblical hell.
One woman refused to wear shoes because “the marble floor was cursed.”
Another was crying because someone had touched her hoodie.
Two were arguing about whether the elevator music was “mocking them.”
Lucian, meanwhile, had decided he absolutely was not going.
“I’m not leaving,” he announced, arms crossed. “I don’t like crowds. Or elevators. Or—”
“We are literally standing in an elevator lobby,” Amara snapped.
“Exactly my point.”
Five seconds later, he changed his mind.
“I’ll go,” he said thoughtfully. “But only if we’re getting Mexican.”
Amara stared at him like she might actually drown him.
“You are unbelievable,” she hissed. “You overgrown aquatic man-child.”
“At least I’m not emotionally weaponizing sarcasm,” he shot back.
“Oh I will emotionally weaponize you in about three seconds—”
“Both of you,” Dante said quietly.
Everyone stopped.
Not because he raised his voice.
Because he didn’t.
He stood at the back of the elevator, staring straight ahead like nothing in the world existed beyond the metal doors. No fire. No heat. Just… stillness.
That scared me more than if he’d been yelling.
The ride down was tense and claustrophobic and loud in all the wrong ways. When the doors finally slid open into the underground parking garage—
Silence.
Not awkward silence.
Relief.
Like a pressure valve releasing all at once.
Cool air. Concrete. Space.
I sucked in a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
And then—
Dante moved.
He spun so fast I barely had time to register it before his hands were on me, pressing me back against the concrete pillar behind us. Not rough. Desperate.
His mouth crashed into mine. His lips were hot and demanding, tasting of salt and urgency as he devoured my mouth.
I gasped into the kiss, my hands instinctively rising to clutch at his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle there.
Dante groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me, and he pressed his body flush against mine, trapping me between his heat and the cool, unyielding concrete.
One hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, tilting my head for better access, while the other gripped my waist, pulling me impossibly closer.
His tongue swept in, tangling with mine in a frantic dance that left me breathless, my core aching with sudden need. I could feel him hardening against my thigh.
His forehead dropped to mine, breath shaking.
“It was a lie,” he said urgently. “Everything I said upstairs. Gods, Sera, it was a lie.”
I blinked. “Dante—”
“I want you,” he continued, hands gripping my waist like he was afraid I’d vanish. “Only you. My dragon—he howls for you. Sometimes I can barely hold him back. He doesn’t understand why I can’t just take what he wants.”
That made me snort despite myself.
“You’re afraid he’ll burn down the city for me?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said immediately. “Absolutely.”
I laughed, breathless. “That’s… horrifyingly flattering.”
Behind him, movement caught my eye.
Lucian had lifted Amara clean off the ground. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, fingers in his hair as she kissed him like the world might end if she didn’t.
“I hate that I love you,” she muttered into his mouth.
“I thrive on it,” he replied smugly.
Then I noticed the others.
The women we’d rescued were staring.
Wide-eyed. Frozen. Horrified.
The one Dante had kissed earlier stepped forward abruptly, face pale.
“I—I’m so sorry,” she blurted, hands shaking. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never— I swear I wouldn’t—please don’t punish me.”
The word punish hit wrong.
Everything in me cooled instantly.
Dante pulled back, expression shifting from frantic to focused in a heartbeat.
“No,” he said firmly. “You’re not in trouble. None of you are.”
She looked unconvinced.
I lifted my hands slowly, palms out—not in surrender, but to steady the moment.
“We had to get out,” I said, voice rough but firm. “All of us. The penthouse wasn’t… right.”
Lucian’s brows lifted, interest cutting through the tension. “How did you know?”
I swallowed, searching for words that didn’t sound insane. “Because none of it felt real. It was like a sheet of glass dropped between me and everything else. I could see you. Hear you. But I couldn’t reach you.” I shook my head. “Like watching a movie where the dialogue’s just a little off. Everyone was saying things they’d never say. Doing things that didn’t fit.”
Dante frowned, his arm sliding around my waist, pulling my back flush to his front as if anchoring me to something solid. His lips brushed my throat, grounding, familiar. “I never would’ve left,” he murmured quietly. “Not without you.”
My breath hitched despite myself.
Amara cleared her throat loudly. “Okay. Cute. Truly. But now that we’re—mostly—clear?” She shot Dante a pointed look when he kissed my neck again. “What the hell just happened?”
Lucian tilted his head, gaze drifting up toward the tower above us. “The penthouse is compromised.”
The word landed heavy.
“Compromised how?” Amara asked.
“Bugged,” he replied. “Not tech. Magic.” His jaw tightened. “Witchcraft. Likely anchored with a heart or blood focus. Anyone entering the affected area would be nudged—hard—toward emotional inversion.”
I felt cold creep up my spine. “Inversion.”
“Love curdles,” Lucian said. “Trust fractures. Fear sharpens. It doesn’t create emotions—it twists what’s already there.”
“Who would do that?” Amara demanded.
Lucian didn’t answer right away.
I looked down at the woman standing nearest us—the one who’d kissed Dante earlier. She was trembling, eyes glossy, hands clenched in her sleeves.
“Hey,” I said gently. “Can I ask you something?”
She nodded, swallowing.
“Do you… like Dante?” I asked. “Before tonight?”
She froze.
Color drained from her face. “No,” she whispered. “He scares me.”
Dante went still behind me.
The truth rippled through the group like a shockwave.
“Then whatever happened up there,” I said quietly, “wasn’t you.”
The air shifted.
And then—
A wall of water slammed into us out of nowhere.
Cold. Heavy. Soaking.
I yelped as it knocked the breath out of me, Dante swearing as he twisted to shield me, both of us drenched in seconds.
“What the—” Amara sputtered, wiping water from her eyes. “That wasn’t me.”
All eyes snapped to the woman.
She stumbled back, panic flooding her expression. “I—I can’t control it,” she cried. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. It just—when I get scared, it happens.”
Lucian’s attention sharpened instantly—not anger, not judgment. Recognition.
“Water,” he murmured. “Untrained. Reactive.”
The woman sank to her knees, sobbing. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t know how to stop it.”
I stepped forward before anyone else could, kneeling in front of her despite the damp chill seeping into my clothes.
“You’re not in trouble,” I said softly, echoing Dante’s words from moments ago. “And you’re not broken.”
She looked up at me, eyes wide and desperate.
“You’re awake,” I continued. “That’s all. And waking up is messy.”
Behind me, Dante’s hand settled warm and steady on my shoulder.
Lucian crouched on her other side, voice calm as still water. “We can help you learn control. But first—we get you somewhere safe. Somewhere clean.”