Dante Reyes Novels & Stories

And now this emptiness sapped my strength. A branch snapped. Something moved ahead. I shifted, sensing the darkness coalesce. “Reya.” The whisper twisted my blood cold. Raw, familiar power laced it. Dante stepped from the shadows. Cloaked in rage and burn scars. His single eye gleamed like obsidian. “You should have stayed in the camp,” he growled. “Safe.” I barely registered the dagger in his hand. “What do you want?” I whispered, exhaustion in my voice. “Your blood. Your line.”

They froze when they saw Dante. Mara recovered first. “Holy shit. The quarterback. In the flesh. And not on crutches. Miracles do happen.” Dante gave a small nod. “Hey.” Theo blinked slowly. “You’re… tall.” Priya slid into the seat across from him, eyes narrowed like she was grading him. “Do you read poetry, Dante Cruz?” He met her stare without flinching. “I read what Eli sends me.” She raised an eyebrow. “And?”

I nearly smash into a broad chested man in the hall, and he winks at me with a playful smile as he helps me gather the jacket I just dropped. “Alright there?” he asks in a cheeky Italian accent.“Yes, sorry. I didn’t see you there.” He flashes a dimple when his lips tilt up. “I liked your routine. You did a great job up there.” “Thanks.” I smile. “I was a bit nervous, but I think it went okay.” He offers me his hand. “I’m Rex by the way.” I shake his hand and offer my name reluctantly. I’m not here to make friends, but it’s pretty obvious this guy is a part of Dante crew. “Damian and I were just about to grab a bite to eat,” he says. “Would ye care to join us?”

Dante wanted to believe her, but he chose not to – this way he would be able to get over her death quicker. “Don’t you remember what they did you our parents?” Dante spoke as he stood in the middle of his room. His one eye covers with a patch, while a deep scar runs from his right cheek to the corner of his lips. Another deep scar ran at the side of his head. He is wearing a plain white button-up shirt and black pants. His hair is gelled back neatly. Dante and Mateo share the same eye color – they got it from their mother. They both are tall, but Mateo is slightly taller than his elder brother.

It was him. Mateo Santiago.

Chapter 1: Into the Inferno The roar of the flames was deafening, like the devil himself breathing down their necks. Dante Reyes kicked through another burning door, his heavy turnout gear already feeling like a furnace. At thirty five, he had seen hell more times than he could ever count, but this super fire fueled by climate dried forests and years of corporate greed was something else entirely. “Anyone here?!” he bellowed, voice muffled by his mask. "Can anyone hear me, he shouted."

No attempt to look impressed. I liked that about him right away. “Don Armando,” he said, walking forward and holding out his hand. “Dante Reyes.” I shook it firmly, testing his grip. It was strong and steady. “You made good time.” “Don Rafael does not like delays when he owes a favor,” Dante replied. He set the bag down by his feet and glanced around once more. “Nice place. Feels a little too quiet for the kind of trouble you described on the phone.”

Dante was standing in the doorway with surprised amber eyes. Dante was actually a handsome guy with his strawberry blonde hair. It was short but long enough to cover his ears a little. The lines of his face from jaw to chin were slightly feminine, but you could never mistake him for anything but male. As he stood before us in only his boxers, every swell of muscle in his limbs and torso was well defined and tight. “Welcome home, Vasilios…” Dante said before stepping aside and letting us get by. He knelt beside us as we came in until Lio touched his shoulder, allowing him to rise again. Baltasar knelt as well and Lio did the same with him.

I was too exhausted to fight it, too dizzy from blood loss to argue. The elevator was mirror-polished steel. I caught a glimpse of my reflection and immediately wished I hadn't. I looked like something from a horror movie—blood-soaked, bruised, barely human. "You have looked better," the man observed. "You have excellent observation skills." "I have been told." A slight smile touched his lips. "My name is Dante, by the way. Dante Moretti. Since we are apparently past formalities." "Elena—" "Reeves. Yes, I know. Everyone knows." The elevator doors opened onto a hallway—elegant, expensive, exactly what I would expect from someone who drove that kind of car. "Welcome to my home, Elena Reeves. T