Chapter Master Dante Novels & Stories

>>>Dante Dante paced back and forth in his dimly lit study, his mind a tempest of fury and frustration. The events of the night replayed in his head, a cycle of rage he couldn't break. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light of the desk lamp, and took a long, burning sip. It did little to quell the fire inside him.

He struggled to swallow the saliva as he remembered. "Okay, I give up." Dante raised his palms, indicating that he had given up arguing with Richie. "First, I'll answer why the Great Master is searching for young geniuses behind closed doors in several countries. He is looking for assistants who can be trusted to help him run the company." Richie immediately glared at Dante. He reflexively stepped forward and almost hit Dante on the head if the man in the fedora hadn't blocked Richie's hand and stepped back. "Don't be absurd! I have the right to run this company!" Richie protested with a clenched jaw.

Dante pours himself another glass. “Fuck,” Nico says, leaning on the armrest of his wheelchair with his hand in front of his mouth as well. Sylvana was the only one who looked confused. “How is this important?” She asks, not understanding the actual importance this information held. Dante takes a swig of his glass. “The Burning of The Muratori Heirs. It is a blemish on the Dragonetti name, an event that never should have happened and cemented me as an unfeeling bastard.” He finishes another glass. Nico and I looked at one another and frowned in confusion.

The material was warm from her touch, a tangible piece of her past that was about to dictate her future. She didn't hesitate when she reached her destination. She pushed open the heavy oak door to the master suite without knocking. Dante was inside. He had stripped down to a fitted black shirt and dark pants, his sleeves rolled up to reveal bruised, reddened knuckles from the earlier fight downstairs. He was pacing near the large wooden desk like a caged predator, his large frame tight with restless energy and a barely contained fury. A tablet lay open on the desk, its screen glowing with strategic notes, logistics, and digital maps as he desperately planned their next moves against Marcello

Master Damien got to the entrance of his chamber and was about to go in when a warrior ran to him panting hard as a result of the long distance to which he had ran from. "Master" he fell to the floor prostrating before Master Damien in fear. They attacked us master, they took us unaware and struck us, as I am talking to you, the warriors are fighting over their lives in the boundaries" he panted rushing his words. Master Damien stare at him for quite a long time before walking into his chamber not saying anything.

I'm just a slave to the energy that crackles between us. Dante drops his hands from the wall to my sides. His fingers run up and down my body - feeling me, remembering me, then drawing me closer. His tongue pushes deeper into my mouth, and his leg presses between mine. I moan against his lips as his thigh rubs against me. The thin material of my dress is little protection from that exquisite friction.

The door at the top of the stairs creaks open, and the first one descends… Dante is the oldest. His broad frame fills the doorway, his black T-shirt clinging to the ridges of his abs, the sleeves stretched tight around biceps that look like they could snap steel. His dark hair is slicked back, his jaw filled with stubble, and his lips curl into a slow, predatory smile as his gaze rakes over me. He doesn’t speak, not yet. He just looks, his eyes lingering on the way my chest heaves, the way my thighs tremble, the way my fingers twitch against the ropes as if I could somehow escape.

In the basement of our home, yes, it's a cellar, but. The fire roaring... Glimmering candles... their light casting amber and copper over the blond hair of my Golden Lover... My Master... Dark... Forbidding... The Love-Passion-Mastery in his eyes as he approaches me, the pommel gripped in his hand, soft leather tails trailing over the stone flags before they kiss my flesh as he gifts me with his pain/pleasure... Pain... Pain in my face where they hit me... Pain in my leg... and something dragging at me...

I know I must have bad luck because I'm the only maid the master has punished a lot,I don't know if he just likes punishing me and seeing me in pain when I am only trying to help him . But I thought he wanted to kiss me as well or was I wrong about it ,it felt as if he wanted it as well so what went wrong. I was upset ,and angry at myself for being stupid,why did I think that he wanted to kiss me, I only realized now that I was in love with the master,that was why I was acting so strange and doing stupid things ,I just wanted to console him but see where it landed me .

She wouldn't appear weak. Dante observed her, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes – approval? Annoyance? It was impossible to tell. He leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. The setting sun, now a brilliant, fiery orange, cast long shadows across his face, making him seem both angelic and demonic. "Good," he murmured, his voice a low, steady current. "A semblance of understanding. That is the first step."