Crossing the Line

The rain started halfway home.

It wasn't a gentle drizzle; it was a torrential downpour that hammered against the roof of the armored SUV. The rhythmic drumming filled the silence between us, but it did nothing to drown out the tension.

The dens of the car were thick. Charged with electricity and the scent of the aroused wolves, they felt heavy.

I sat in a corner of the vehicle, trying to create distance between us. My skin still tingled from the briefest graze of Dante's fingers at the gala. My heart raced, pounding against my ribs like a frantic thing.

I stole a glance at him.

Dante looked straight ahead, his jaw tight. Chiseled into marble; that was him, though I could see the tension gripping his shoulders. He rested both hands on his thighs, fingers clutching into fists, then relaxing, over and over.

"You're angry," I whispered, breaking the silence.

Dante turned his head slowly. His eyes glowed like molten gold in flashes of streetlight.

"I'm not angry," he said, his voice low and rough, sending vibrations through my bones. "I'm... agitated.

"For Vanessa?"

"For you," he corrected.

Now he began turning his bulk so much against me. The leather seat protested with a slight creak in his wake.

"Tonight you were reckless," Dante said. "Vanessa is not simply a jealous ex. She is the daughter of a High Elder. Insulting her is equivalent to poking a sleeping dragon."

"I did not poke her," I replied, turning to face him. "I defended myself. You asked me to prove I was not weak. You said I should show them I am a worthy investment. Did I mess that up?"

Dante's eyes were piercing. They traced a line down to my lips and back to my eyes.

"No," he whispered. "You did not mess that up. You were great."

Impressive words, unexpected, with an undertone of danger.

"So why the agitation?" I gasped.

Dante had no words. He reached out instead.

His hand, large and warm, found purchase on the back of my neck. He did not pull me closer but rather kept me suspended as his thumb traced the sensitive skin behind my ear.

"Because," he croaked, "to watch you tear her apart... to see the fire in your eyes... it did something to me. It awakened the beast."

The car slowed and turned through the iron gates of the castle.

"We're home," announced the driver nervously; even he sensed the pheromones that had flooded the car.

The car came to a stop. The door was opened.

Dante lay no time in leaving. He walked out pulling me along with him while not letting go of my hand. He dragged me through the rain, up the stone steps and into the grand foyer.

With one sharp movement of his hand, he dismissed the staff. They scurried away like frightened little birds.

Now, just the two of us.

"Dante!" I gasped as he dragged me toward the private elevator. "You're hurting my hand."

Instantly, he loosened his grip but did not let go. He proceeded to drag me inside the elevator and slammed his palm upon the button for the Penthouse floor-his very own private quarters, not the guest wing, his wing.

The doors slid shut, locking us in a glass box.

Dante pressed me against the glass wall, hands planted on either side of my head to keep me in place. He loomed over me, blotting out the light and the world. He smelled of rain, expensive whiskey, and pure, unadulterated Alpha power.

"Would you know what I wanted to do when you stood up on behalf of her?" Dante growled down to me in a whisper.

I shook my head, mute.

The noose tightened, the pull pulling him closer. "Well, I wanted to fuck you right there on the ballroom floor, in front of them all. To make a mark of my claim. To show them that you are mine."

"I am just contract," I sputtered, trying to cling to the one thing that always saved me. "Section 4. First paragraph. No emotional attachment."

Dante let out a dark, humorless chuckle.

"Who cares about the contract?"he snarled, while pushing his lips against mine.

The touch was fierce, brutal, and wild, all the way. Hungry, desperate, and angry. They gave presence to its hunger, and Dante's lips dominated as they saturated with his need.

At that minute, I should have slammed him away, pushed him onto the ground. He was responsible for buying me, he was the self-indulgent King treating little ol' me like just another corporate line item.

However, my body was back in high gear.

My hands caught in his wet black hair, pulling him closer, responding to his demands. My lips parted so full of his that my pulse vibrated in my mouth. Yet this had no comparison to desire; Dante's unity with me brought such fusion of two soulful entities that passion leaked from my heart without bounds.

He groaned right into the kiss. It was guttural and possessive. Shook his chest against mine. His hands slid down my back, then over my waist. He crushed me to himself, our hips grinding.

Of course, I felt too small in his arms, but never did I feel weak; I felt untapped power. Now I was the one who made the King lose control.

The elevator abruptly dinged. I simply could not have particularly cared about where it was taking me-what it was supposed to change in my world-from its infernal gates, its doors crazily polarizing in half.

Dante backed us out of the elevator without another breath, never-mind kissing. Quiet strength. He had not even paused to let me think. The heavy door creaked open.

Only darkness sparkled with random lightning through wall-to-wall windows of our closed off suite.

He shoved me against the wall near the door. His hands went all over in my hair, waist, sliding down to grip my hips, with scarcely a moment of hesitation he effortlessly drew me to himself, with my cold feet swinging a couple of feet off the floor.

"Dante..." my voice was absolutely heavy, croaking like I'd already been hit by a car. "Wait."

With Dante's face buried in the crook of my neck, I eked out my little appeal. 

"No?" Dante growled against my throat, his tone suddenly sharp. "So you wolf me up to the seventh cloud. But you pretend in your moans I am the other, um, penguino's son and not the king who bought you? Gosh! Man, what a buzz,... I am starting to see that dropping M.M. on you went to the waste, you only ache for syrup and rain. I told you right in your face you needed this! Why did you even bring up a much-expected ransom payment? When the money is in your pocket, you should not keep on asking with what it will serve. Take your due, as I have long taken mine."

"I..." I swallowed with dawning realization, the boiling warmth of a blush rising. I was still shell-shocked, traumatized by what he thought of me. His hands came to both sides of my face, captured by surprise on the sides of his palms.

"Honestly, tell me where to kiss you, and I'll follow," I declared my demanded opportunity.

"Maybe from your part if you grow a brain," Dante replied.

My opposing demanding distress scored everything he controlled. He groped for my head, his head so close it felt like our lips would never have a chance to be an inch apart.

"Hey, be serious. Answer my question." He stepped back with me pinned against the wall beside the door, the very bookend to our new euphemistic journey. His always ain't half bad on this side from a half.

A plan was not Dante's thing while dealing with an emotion-war. The universe offered a relief merely to snip the ropes my heart had long entangled around itself, and this man had to sense that!

I fixed my dress in an effort to hold myself high. "So what does that implication mean?"

He looked at me with intensity. The mask tried to call it a day and settle back where it belonged. Caught in a rift, it cracked momentarily.

"That," said Dante, ""is indicative of professional attachment lapse. Now, you"-he came a tiny bit closer again, stilling one hand in the air to cover the distance there was between us. "Woman, stop, you are making it so hard for a boss guy to know when you fall an employee before your will scars itself this C-NT. This deal is not what I was supposed to be flouting upon."

"I'm not an employee," I reminded him. "I'm a debt payment."

"Dante, we need to forget the whole professional stupidity we keep brandishing about. So I think—c'mon now, forgive and move forward—that, um, we can explore this chemistry on confusing terms, no hard feelings... under no promise, Jesus... Lord! Can you accept?"

It was a cold contract. It was Dante all over. Try to set another word about the fire, and it would be put in a hoverfile shape.

Yet, while I looked into his permalustful eyes, I knew he lied to himself and gave opportunities for creating something uncontainable. It wasn't just relief.

He needed to know the mild fostering of heat that was a mere flicker of affection, that not known entity nor the fire was yet to be discovered.

Being the very destruction staring in front of him, I made the King fall further.

I took a step forward and did not grasp his hand.

Instead, I lifted my hand to straighten Dante's crooked tie.

"Well," I breathed. "We explore the chemistry."

I looked up slightly, catching his eyes.

"But Dante? You even dream of being able to unattach yourself from what's just happened? Or will you be fooling yourself, thinking all will be normal after that?"

The pitch of his eyes became darker. He grabbed my wrist, yanking it away from his tie, and kissed my palm.

"I don’t fall for you, Maya," he vowed. "I just hunt you down."

"We'll see," I replied.

I pulled my hand back and made my way towards the door.

"Goodnight, Your Majesty."

I left him behind, watching me walk into the dark. I reached the hall outside the guest section and walked with legs trembling under me.

The covenant with Satan had just been sealed. Once again.

This time, I was the temptation., the great temptation. And I would ensure the King of the North fell to nothingness.