Isabella Isabella woke to the unfamiliar sensation of being completely wrapped around another person. Her head rested on Dante's chest, her leg thrown over his, their fingers intertwined even in sleep. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting his face in gold.For a moment, she let herself enjoy it—the warmth, the safety, the rightness of being in his arms.Then panic set in.What had she done? She'd surrendered completely, confessed her love, let him claim her in ways that made her cheeks burn with the memory. She'd promised forever to a man whose world was built on violence and blood, whose enemies would use her love against them both.She tried to ease away without waking him, but Dante's arm tightened around her waist."Don't," he said, his voice rough with sleep. "Don't run. Not from this. Not from me.""I'm not running," Isabella lied. "I just need to….""Lie to yourself all you want, *tesoro*." Dante's eyes opened, pinning her with gray intensity. "But don't lie to me.
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