Dante Dmc 6 Novels & Stories

The Kirin hit the muddy ground with it’s front right hoof twice then a stance; a stretched neck downward as it’s long antlers fixedly pointed to its target with it’s dragon-like face slightly contorted. Unexpectedly to Dante knowing he’s the fastest man alive, which he believed it was totally true; Pamēla was already above him, glowing with a sudden burst of energy. He slowly gasped within that space of time. “She… could see where I’m positioned?!” Staring at the mystical creature above, the rider looked down at him including the one standing behind now raising her gothic war hammer with an evil smile underneath her helmet spoke; “We got you now.” Next, a blooming sound of destructive yellow

Lycan Draven got down, and I watched, unknowingly feeling a tense sensation run down my spine as his gaze met mine for a heated stare before he walked in without a word. Dante soon alighted from the car. He was tall, towering over me with a foot and some inches. I was short so I was like 5'4" and he looked well over 6. He had short dirty blonde hair that settled like satin waves over his head and deep, probing brown eyes that looked like melted chocolate. He was handsome, and despite his bulky muscles and intimidating appearance, had this calm demeanor around him. I almost felt safe in his presence but I would be stupid to trust anyone here.

Dante crouched slowly in front of Damon, his voice low and calm, like a father speaking to a child. "I changed my mind," he murmured. He stood upright, stretching his neck lazily before nodding at one of the guards. “Hold him still.” Two men seized Damon’s arms and shoved him back down, strapping him to the steel chair bolted to the floor. “What are you doing?” Damon asked, voice cracking. “I said I’d do it… I said I’d—” Dante pulled out a thick black blade from his belt—a bone knife, carved from the rib of a man long dead. Its jagged edge was laced with rust and something far worse—something that reeked of old blood and ancient pain.

"Luca, I will take you out for a ride tonight." My heartbeat accelerated. I needed a closer relationship with Dante Valenci. And it was the riskiest thing I could do. The Drive Later That Evening As sleek and lethal as its owner, Dante's car was a black Maserati GranTurismo. The scent of leather and musk permeated the cabin as we sped through the city, neon lights flashing against the windshield. With one hand on his thigh and a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, Dante sat beside me in the passenger seat. He was there, palpable, oppressive, like a storm on its way.

Dante says in a low voice, full of annoyance, and I hear Nico’s footsteps retreat. I chuckle and watch him walk away, recalling that I haven’t seen his naked body properly before. A blush crept onto my cheeks when I realised that he had slept naked next to me. His body was glorious. He was tall and incredibly well built, not too much muscle, and it fit his body perfectly. The large Dragonetti Dragon tattoo took up the entirety of his back with its wings snaking into his sides where there were a series of numbers tattooed. His left bicep had what looked like a horned female demon and over his ribs, he had the Omerta written in its entirety. The tattoos on his chest and back complimented his b

A massive black SUV idles at the checkpoint, and standing beside it is a man who can only be Dante Nightshade. He's tall—six-foot-four at least—with silver-streaked black hair and eyes the color of midnight. Scars crisscross his face and exposed forearms, testament to decades of violence. He wears authority like a second skin, every movement controlled and deliberate. And he's staring directly at Sera with an expression Hope can't quite read. Hope parks and steps out, deliberately placing herself between Dante and her grandmother. "Alpha Nightshade. You're early." "Alpha Silverclaw." Dante's voice is deep, rough like gravel. His eyes flick to Hope, assess her, then return to Sera. "I apologi

Chapter 19: The Runway Debt ​The rain was a vertical sheet of iron, drumming against the roof of the armored SUV as we tore across the tarmac. The private jet was a silver ghost in the distance, its turbines already whining with a high-pitched, impatient scream. ​"Dante, you're leaning!" I shouted, grabbing his shoulder as the car swerved. ​He didn't answer. He couldn't. His face was a mask of grey marble, his hand clamped over the jagged hole in his side. Blood was seeping through his fingers, staining the white leather of the seat—a six-million-dollar mess for a six-million-dollar bride.

He rested his hands either side of my head, his movements speeding, and feeling my body shake, Dante pushed his hand between us, rubbing circles of eight that had my body collapsing as I screamed. “Scream my name, neonata, let everyone know that I am making you feel good” he said, resting his head on the crook of my neck. I tightened my arms around his neck, scratching his back a little bit as I tried to calm myself if a little bit; however, his hard thrusts made it harder for me to focus on anything but him, and as if his thrusts weren’t making things hard enough, his finger made me arch my back as I climaxed over his cock, making a mess out of it as I squirted. Dante rode me off for a few

Iris stumbled back, barely catching her balance. Dante was there. He moved fast with no hesitation or even wasted motion. His fist connected with the second man’s jaw and his bone cracked. The man went down hard. The first one tried to run. Dante caught him by the collar and threw him into the side of the van like he weighed nothing. It was over in seconds. Too fast for her mind to keep up. Dante kicked the gun away, then turned to her. “Iris,” he said. Her legs gave out.