Done

Alessia

Dante didn't flinch. He didn't move away. Instead, he stepped closer and leaned over the bed, caging my body between his powerful arms.

He didn't touch me, but the heat radiating from his chest was a physical weight, pressing against my skin. His maddening scent filled my lungs until my head spun.

"It’s the only story that keeps you alive." He whispered, his face inches from mine. His eyes weren't just green anymore; they were swirling with a dark, molten gold that promised something much worse than death. "Because if my mother finds out you tried to run, you have no idea what would happen. I just saved you twice in one night."

I tried to pull back into the pillows, but I was trapped. My gaze dropped to his mouth, then to the pulse jumping in his throat.

Even now, with my blood drying on his hands, the bond he had forced between us was so strong. It was a sick, twisted pull in my lower belly that made me want to reach out and touch the very man who had imprisoned me.

"I should have died." I breathed, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "I was almost free.”

"No." His hand suddenly came up, his thumb dragging slowly over my lower lip. His touch was electric, a jolt of pure fire that made my breath hitch. "I took the vows, Sky. You belong to me. Your breath, your blood... even your last gasp. It all belongs to Dante Black-Stone."

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear. The contact sent a shiver straight down my spine.

"Don't make me bring you back a third time, little ghost," He growled, and I felt it deep in my gut. "The price gets much more... intimate... every time I have to save you."

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. For a second, I thought he would kiss me. Then, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

The next two days were a blur of fever dreams and the suffocating scent of ozone. Every time I drifted off, I saw silver halls. I heard Aveline sobbing, and Dmitri consoling her.

When I finally woke up, I heard a sound that definitely wasn't birds chirping.

Screeeeee. Clang. Sizzle.

I groaned, blinking against the sunlight. I sat up on the bed. My shoulder was throbbing with a dull ache, but the skin was already knitting together.

I had no idea what happened. When I fell asleep. How many hours I slept. Or how I made it alive and how he saved me. But a little part in me was grateful.

Sighing, I looked toward the balcony and tried to see through the glass. I saw a team of men.

They looked like blacksmiths in heavy leather aprons. They were busy welding iron bars directly into the stone of my balcony.

“Morning, Sunshine."

I jumped at the voice, clutching the silk sheets to my chest.

Seeing Dmitri, I took a breath.

He was leaning against the doorframe, looking entirely too relaxed for someone standing in a room that was being turned into a prison. “Sorry about the noise. Apparently, Alpha isn't a fan of sequels where the lead actress runs away in the first act.” He said as he was tossing a green apple into the air and catching it.

"What are they doing?" I rasped, nodding toward the windows.

"Dante calls it 'security.'" Dmitri said, taking a loud, crunching bite of the apple. "I call it 'the most expensive birdcage in the North.' Seriously, that silver-iron alloy? That’s enough to buy a small country. You should be flattered."

"I feel like a prisoner." I snapped.

Dmitri walked further into the room, his eyes scanning the space. He stopped by the small table where the dark stone bowl was still sitting, a few dried drops of dark blood staining the rim.

"He used Magda," Dmitri said, his voice losing its playful edge. It wasn't a question. "I knew that smell. Ozone. Witchcraft."

I didn't get what he was saying. So, I stared blankly. “What’s that?”

“He used a forbidden witch to make you survive.” He responded humourlessly. "You really pushed him, Sky." He sighed, leaning against the bedpost. "Dante doesn't do 'panic.' He does 'calculated destruction.' But last night? When he brought you in? He looked like he was ready to kill anyone."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, tossing it onto my lap.

"The contract." He said, the humor returning to his eyes, though it felt forced now. "Dante wants it signed by noon. Said your two days have expired two days ago. I read it. And I really feel sorry for you."

For once, I didn't feel humiliated. I felt calmness rolling over me. I looked at the bars, then at the heavy paper. "Is he coming?" I asked.

"Of course. Your husband is obsessed.” Dmitri stood up, stretching. "I will call him.”

“Thank you.”

I stared at the heavy parchment resting on my thighs, the ink dark and mocking. Give me an heir… or die.

He wanted a contract? Fine. I would give him one. But I wouldn't make it easy for him.

I flipped to the last page, my eyes scanning the harsh terms. I didn't flinch. I picked up the pen Dmitri had left on the bedside table instead.

I uncapped the pen and began to write my own lines in the margin.

The door opened before I could finish.

Dante didn't knock. He stepped into the room, fully dressed in a charcoal suit. He looked at the blacksmiths on the balcony, then at me.

He stopped at the foot of the bed, his hands shoved into his pockets. He didn't ask how I felt. He just looked at the unsigned paper. "Dmitri said you were ready.” He said.

"I'm ready to sign." I said, looking him dead in the eye. "But I have conditions. Three of them."

I felt that sick, magnetic pull again, screaming at me to submit.

Dante’s eyebrow arched, a flicker of dark amusement crossing his face. "You think you’re in a position to negotiate?"

"I think you spent a fortune in silver and used a forbidden witch to keep me breathing," I countered, leaning back against the pillows. "You clearly need me alive. And if I’m going to stay in this cage, I’m not doing it as a broken doll."

He stared at me for a long beat, the gold in his eyes flaring. "Speak."

"First, my father's debts are cleared today. Not in three months. Today."

"Done." he snapped.

"And second... You can't treat me like a slave. You will treat me like a luna."

"That depends on how obedient you are.” He paused. “Go on. Spill the third one." He leaned in, his hand coming out to rest on the mattress near my hip. The heat from his palm seeped through the silk, making my stomach flip.

I gripped the paper tighter. "The third. The heir. The rituals. I'll do it. But I don't want to see you."

His eyes narrowed, searching mine. "Explain."

"You can have my body, Alpha. You can have the heir. But when you do it... you do it from behind. Or in the dark. Or you blindfold me.” I whispered, looking him straight in the eye despite the flush creeping up my neck. “As I said, I don't want to see you. I don't want to see the man who turned my life into a prison."

The silence that followed was deafening. I expected him to roar, to shift, to snap the bedframe in half. Instead, Dante’s gaze darkened until it was almost black. A slow, predatory smirk spread across his lips.

He leaned down until his lips were inches from mine, "you want to pretend it's someone else while I'm inside you?"

"I want to pretend I'm alone," I countered.

He let out a sharp, harsh laugh that didn't reach his eyes. He grabbed my chin, his grip firm but not quite painful, forcing me to feel the raw power in his fingers.

"You think that will make it easier?" He growled. "You think not seeing my face will stop you from feeling what I do to you? From hearing my voice in your ear?"

He snatched the pen from my hand and scrawled his signature beneath my messy conditions.

"Fine, Alessia. We’ll do it your way," he hissed, his gaze dropping to my mouth with a hunger that made my hand sweaty. "But remember this: even in the dark, you’ll know exactly who is fucking you."