A Coffin For Dimitrius Novels & Stories

Beckett said as he helped Dimitri to his feet. "No. I'm not letting him off the hook just because I need a bandage. We'll leave when he dies." Dimitri said as he rotated his shoulder and winced at the pain that radiated through his muscles. Dimitri lets out a sigh when he sees Leon is dead. He hadn't even begun to have fun with him yet. He was just getting started. ....

I won't let that happen. "Alpha! Damn it, Gabriel!" Dimitri's screams break through the fog. What the hell? I fall to my ass, Dimitri and two others standing over me. They each look ready to pounce if I move wrong. "What the hell just happened?" Dimitri screams at me. "I don't know." My voice doesn't sound right. Dimitri looks at me strangely. "You killed him, Gabriel. He's dead." "Cobra?" I ask as he helps me stand. I look past him. What used to be Cobra Moon lays on the floor, his arms hang from the iron cuffs, disconnected from his body. His head is a mess, unrecognizable.

At least a visit or a flower for her tomb. But I heard the next day through Cleo that Dimitri was always present at her birthday every midnight before her birthday turned to the clock while drinking vodka beside her tomb. Just imagining how devastated he looks makes my heart shrink in pain. He loves his daughter. He's just hiding the pain in his devil mask. A tear ran down my lips. He licked it away and then kissed me, slow and steady, until I found the will to return it. The stress faded beneath the press of his mouth, a kernel of warmth growing.

Dimitri informed. "Then go," Kira smiled. "But" and he took her hand and placed it on his very hard dick. "I know, but you have go!" she spoke as she too went inside the closet too get dressed. "Urgh! Fine, I will kill them all this time,” Dimitri barked angrily. And he looked back again, Kira had disappeared inside the closet. “We are coming," Dimitri groaned at the small slit of the door, outside which Taron stood, and closed the door to go and have an icy shower!

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Dimitri's POV The convoy moved slowly through the city streets. Behind me, a black hearse carried her coffin. Simple and elegant, just like she would have wanted. My guards surrounded the vehicles in perfect formation. Their heads were bowed. Their faces were grim. The city seemed to know. Even the people on the streets stopped and stared as we passed. Some made the sign of the cross. Others just watched in silence. I sat in the back of my car, staring at nothing.

Still. Rasmus stepped closer, lifting his robe so it wouldn’t touch the blood. He studied the pool. “The vein is open,” he said. “Dispose of the vessel.” Vessel. Not bride. Not Arielle. Dimitri leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead. It felt different now. Colder. Final. “Goodbye, stray,” he said softly. He pulled the dagger free. The hole he left felt enormous. Hollow. Then he pushed her. Sideways.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax. “What will happen to his body? Who would bury him? He deserves a proper funeral, especially after everything he has done for me. It would be the least I could do for him.” She questioned. Damian gently assured her that he and his sister would take care of Dimitri’s funeral and she would be able to attend it when it is done.

Dmitri doubted that Cooper heard anything he said but hoped that he was reunited with his family and Dmitri took solace in knowing he wasn’t suffering anymore. After a minute of silence in respect for their fallen comrade, Dmitri carefully picked up the body and carried it back upstairs to lay it respectfully on the floor with his hands over his chest before he grabbed a dusty sheet from a lone chair and covered the body. “We cannot stop. I do not know if my sisters’ spells have worn off or not so watch each others’ backs.”

--- Two Weeks Earlier – Dimitri The scene cut to a dimly lit room, somewhere in Prague. Dimitri leaned back in his chair, a glass of vodka in hand, his face half-hidden in shadows. The scar across his jaw caught the light as he smiled — a cold, lethal smile. “They think they buried me,” he murmured, swirling the glass lazily. “But the dead don’t stay dead.” On the table lay photographs — Alexander, Isabella, and… a baby. Dimitri’s fingers traced the image, his smile widening.

His dismissal of me hurt like hell, but at the same time I understood he needed time to process. One guard tried to grab my arm, but I dodged his touch “I will go without being handled, just lead the way.” I turned to leave with the guards but before walking through the doors I couldn’t stop myself from glancing back at Dimitri once more. He was now on his knees next to the coffin, his hand was on the lid, but I don’t think he could bring himself to open it just yet.