Chapter 13: The Wrath of a Vampire
POV – Ava
Dante Didn’t Just Drag Me Away—He Claimed Me
His grip on my wrist was unrelenting, his body radiating fury and possession.
The moment we stepped into the shadowed hallway, he turned—caging me against the cold marble wall.
His body pressed against mine, his scent—dark spice and danger—overwhelming.
And then his voice came, low, lethal, and devastatingly controlled.
"You let him touch you."
A statement. Not a question.
My breath hitched. "Dante, I—"
His fingers skimmed my throat, right over my pulse, which was thundering wildly beneath his touch.
"No lies," he murmured. His voice was pure dominance, rough velvet laced with warning.
I exhaled shakily. "I didn’t mean to."
His laugh was soft, dark, and anything but amused.
"No?" His fingers drifted lower, teasing the edge of my dress, his touch deliberate. "Then tell me, little one—did you enjoy it?"
I froze.
The truth hung in the air like a sin.
Lucien had tempted me.
And I had let him.
Dante’s grip tightened. His fingers flexed against my hip, his jaw ticking with restrained fury.
"You didn’t pull away," he murmured, quieter now, almost thoughtful. Dangerous.
I swallowed, my lips parting, but no words came.
His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, slow, reverent, but there was nothing gentle in his gaze.
"I should kill him for touching you."
A shiver ran through me.
I knew he meant it.
I should have denied it, should have begged him not to do something reckless. But I was still drowning in the way his body caged mine, in the way his hands gripped me like he would never let go.
So I whispered, "Then why don’t you?"
His gaze darkened, something unholy sparking in his eyes.
"Oh, I will," he said, his lips ghosting over my jaw, his breath warm and cruel against my skin. "But first—"
His hand slid higher, fingers wrapping around my throat, tilting my chin up until our eyes met.
"First, I remind you who you belong to."
And then—he ruined me.
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The Punishment
His mouth crashed against mine, his kiss raw, punishing, and unrelenting.
I moaned into him, melting under his touch, grasping at his shirt.
His hands roamed my body—possessive, demanding, claiming.
Then—fabric tore.
A sharp gasp escaped me as he ripped my panties clean off.
Dante exhaled slowly, his smirk dark and victorious.
"Now, you’re mine again."
His hand slid between my thighs.
A desperate sound escaped me as his fingers brushed my slick heat.
He hummed approvingly. "So wet for me."
His fingers teased me, spreading my arousal, but never giving me what I needed.
I whimpered, arching against his hand, seeking friction.
Dante chuckled, dragging his fingers up and down my folds, barely dipping inside.
"So desperate," he murmured. "Is this what happens when I don’t let you come?"
I shuddered, my legs trembling.
"Please," I whispered, hating how easily he unraveled me.
Dante groaned against my throat. "That’s it, little one. Beg for me."
His fingers finally slid deep inside me, stretching me, filling me just enough to drive me insane.
I gasped, my body arching, pushing against his hand.
But just as I was about to fall over the edge—
He pulled away.
I let out a strangled cry of frustration.
Dante smirked, gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him.
"Not yet."
I was shaking, needy, completely at his mercy.
He exhaled sharply, undoing his belt with slow, deliberate movements.
And then, in a single, devastating thrust, he buried himself deep inside me.
I cried out, my body stretching to take him, struggling to accommodate his size.
Dante groaned against my throat, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I knew I’d bruise.
"This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" he growled, pulling out just enough before slamming back in.
I moaned shamelessly, my fingers digging into his back.
His pace was brutal, his movements calculated punishment.
Every thrust was claiming me. Owning me.
I was losing myself, drowning in him, my body climbing higher and higher—
Until he finally, finally let me fall.
I shattered around him, my orgasm ripping through me, leaving me trembling, gasping, completely wrecked.
Dante followed, his own release chasing mine, his growl a deep, sinful vibration against my skin.
And when it was over?
He didn’t let me go.
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The Aftermath
Dante slowly pulled back, his breathing ragged, his body still pressed against mine.
His fingers brushed through my hair, almost gentle.
But then his voice came, dark and firm.
"Go back to the penthouse."
I blinked, still coming down from my high. "What?"
His expression hardened. "Now."
Frustration and confusion coiled inside me, but I did as he said.