Dante's Inferno Book Online Novels & Stories

He clenched his fist and stepped a little closer towards the boulder, his booted feet making a depression on the black sand. The Encyclopedia of Demons or popularly known as the Dictionnaire Infernal is the book Marcus had found in the Vatican Archives that talked about the demon with blue and violet flames. It may not have given a fitting picture of what the hellish entity looked like, but it was able to provide enough information for him to use.

Dante whirled, stunned for a split second. Matteo hurled a spare pistol my way and I caught it mid-air. Fury exploded through me as I rolled to cover and fired back at Dante rapidly. The shots thundered, bullets ripping into Dante’s chest and arm, he staggered backward toward the edge. He clutched his wounds, shock freezing his face. “Ci vediamo all'inferno, bastardo,” I growled as I fired the final shot that propelled him over the cliff. See you in hell, bastard.

I didn’t know which hurts more—the burn of the air or the terror that punched straight through my ribs. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The world was spinning, tilting, and blurring, and my eyes stung with dust and smoke. The scent hit me next—burning metal, gasoline, and rubber melted into something acrid and poisonous. Dante’s car—his new armoured black coupe was now a roaring inferno, flames clawed up toward the sky like hands desperate to escape.

Then she saw it—an open book resting on the side table, with Dante’s reading glasses folded neatly beside it. He’d been here recently. Emilia sat down carefully, more out of curiosity than anything else. She glanced at the book—Il Principe by Machiavelli. Of course. The idea of Dante reading that made something stir in her chest—half amusement, half dread. She didn’t hear the footsteps until they were right behind her. “You shouldn’t be here.” Emilia froze. Her shoulders tensed as she turned slowly to see him—Dante, dressed in black, hair damp from the rain, a towel draped around his neck like he’d just come in from the courtyard.

DANTE'S POV It was like an inferno lit beneath my skin. One kiss. One goddamn kiss and I was wrecked. Her skin had tasted like the temptation and trouble I knew better than to chase. And still, I wanted to chase. I wanted to press her down right there in the changing room, rip that sheer little scrap of lace from her hips, and fuck her until every last ounce of this maddening tension burned out of me. I stayed still. Breathing her in. Letting that kiss sear into my memory like a brand I would never be able to scrub off.

If that's the norm, I won't care if I'm included or not. I just went to the library to read a book about Eleftheria. Maybe there is information there about the volcano. I will just pour out my anger and annoyance there. I am being immature and I don't understand myself either. The Palace library is spacious. Even if I spend a year reading it I won't finish all the books. Fortunately, it's easy to find what you need to read here because there are names. I went to the row where there were books about different parts of Valeria. I saw there a book about Samona, Caracass, Avalone, and Valencia. There was also a book about monsters in the Valeria forest and Eleftheria caught my eye.

She takes three steps forward, as she names the stage that belongs to the circle and whispers. “Avarice.” Into the circle of hell by which the sins of greed and lust for material gain is the face of its door. She realizes that she is not just reading the main book of the world where she is walking in together with the rest, but also dwelling inside the seeming child’s bedtime story famously known as wonderland. While the other is marked in the literary works and depicts the morals and ideals of the sins in the worst circle of Dante's journey into the nine circles of the inferno. She is now seeing the very loo inside the circle of fourth, where the sin and dark core of the two holders lies, a

Vera's Pov The words hung in the air between us, poisonous. I regretted them the instant they left my mouth but there was no unsaying what I’d already said. Dante finally looked up from his book, and my breath caught in my throat. Dante finally looked up from his book and I gasped. His eyes were no longer gold. They were pure red. The hybrid had taken over completely and I could see fury radiating from every line of his body as he slowly, deliberately closed the book and set it aside.

Chapter 13: Dante’s Protectiveness The night air was thick with anticipation as Isla moved through the club. Inferno was alive, pulsing with energy, the scent of alcohol and perfume wafting through the air, mixed with the low hum of music and the chatter of wealthy patrons. It was a typical night, the kind that Isla had grown used to since she’d started working here as Bella Caruso. But tonight felt different. There was an edge to the atmosphere, a tension that crawled under her skin.

He looked at Elian — this man who had written his interior in a novel and read it back to him at a kitchen table on a Portuguese island, without drama, without ceremony, just as the accurate description of a thing. "One hand around his coffee cup," Dante said. "The other resting on the table." "Yes," Elian said. "Close but not touching," Dante said. "Yes," Elian said. Dante put his hand on the table. He moved it across the manuscript, across the three hundred and forty pages of the thing that had grown here — across the garden novel, the Bucharest novel, the Euler novel, the love story novel — and put it over Elian's hand. "Close," Dante said.