Dante X Bayonetta Mga Nobela at Kwento

He took a slow sip, eyes never leaving hers, as if the taste of her lie lingered on his tongue. Valentina drank, too, the heat burning down her throat. She didn’t cough, didn’t wince. Weakness was something she never displayed, not even in private. “So,” Dante said finally, leaning back in his chair, one arm stretched across the backrest, “Miss Bellamy, the broker from Antwerp.” His tone mocked the title, but his gaze stayed level. “Tell me… what do you think of our little city?” The question was too simple—a trap.

“I didn’t—” “Do not lie to me!” Dante roared, the sound reverberating through the marble walls. His control, usually ironclad, had shattered, and for a split second, Zaya saw the beast beneath the tailored suits and ruthless charm. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had learned the hard way that tears were weapons here, and sometimes, they made you weaker. “You think so little of me?” she spat back, her voice shaking with anger now. “You think I would sell myself like that?”

Dante jabbed the gun in Aldo’s direction. Dante loved Zeta, there is no doubt in his mind about his love for her, but he also feared her. Zeta was not a weak and meek woman. She was not domesticated. She was clever. She was brave. She was smart, and she was cunning – like her father. Aldo trained her to hunt, and she learned well. Dante didn’t think he would fall so deep for a woman, yet alone a woman from the Bianchi clan. He stepped into it thinking it would e easy to ring her down, but he underestimated her. He still doesn’t know if she loved her the way he loved her – that revelation died with her.

Dante was the true heir of the werewolves. "You told her, didn't you?" Dante said suddenly, fixing a hard stare on Hayes. My mate, however, remained unfazed. "I can't hide anything from my mate. You'll understand when you meet yours," Hayes retorted, causing Callum to cough as if he had choked on his own saliva—silence fell. Dante glared at his beta, who shrugged in response. "No..." Zylon murmured, shock evident in his eyes as he looked at Dante. His gaze quickly shifted to the couples playing beach volleyball, clearly intrigued by them.

In the strobe-light flicker of the lightning, Bianca could see her name written on the front in bold, black ink. She didn't reach for it. She couldn't move. Her legs felt like lead. “You always were a slow learner, little girl.” The voice came from the shadows directly behind her. Low. Gritty. Familiar. Bianca spun around, raising the Beretta, her finger tightening on the trigger. Dante stood at the end of the hall. He wasn't wearing a hospital gown anymore. He was clad in tactical black, a combat knife strapped to his thigh, a suppressed submachine gun hanging loosely from a sling over his shoulder. He looked lean, hungry, and entirely lethal.

That kind of power burned fast and collapsed just as quickly. But Damon was different. And the Luna, Rachel, was different still. A woman who survived cruelty, rejection and isolation within her own bond and did not fracture. She wasn’t a weakness. She was a variable. And I hated variables. Variables disrupted carefully laid plans. They bent trajectories and introduced outcomes that couldn’t be forced or threatened into submission. But they also revealed truths men like Damon often hid behind duty. “Prepare the clearing,” I said. “No guards within sight. No banners. No posturing.”

Elena. What was she doing here, she was not supposed to be here, And the darkness lunged after them both, but this time Bichiria was prepared, and so was Elena, flames bursting out of her fingers after Gonta, driving him back, “Who said I had plans on doing it alone brother.”, Dante said, lunging after the demon hand man. Gonta staggered as fire went after him, he could not believe it, this Wolf was different, fire alike to that of Isak Emma, it was impossible, it was not meant to be. The Assassin and the Wolf holding hands together

I could tell they had a good relationship. “Yes, but she wanted to come here today,” Damien replied, smiling. Dante turned to me, and I analysed him. He is pretty buff—not a bad buff, but a good buff. Definitely bigger than Damien. I looked at his muscles, and I was amazed. It must have taken years of hard training to build all that and I see the visible scars. He is not wearing armour, just a black shirt with trousers and black boots. He has a sword wrapped around his waist, and he doesn’t have any facial hair or hair on his head. He is completely bald. I could tell he definitely doesn’t care about ever finding his mate; this is his life, and he would serve it well, honestly he has my respe

Tall, dark red stilettos. She’s wearing a sating dress that clings onto her body perfectly, complemented by the dazzling jewelry around her neck and wrists. Her hair, her smile, her eyes, she looks incredible. I soon realise that she is not the woman I met last night. Something has changed, and her aura has shifted into something dangerous. Tristan’s body is still turned to me, but his eyes are fixed on Bella, with his lips slightly parted in awe. Her scent fills the room. “Miss Ward, please have a seat.”

"Sophisticated. Successful. Very well connected in both the real world and underground." I forced myself to keep eating, each bite mechanical. "Suitable for someone, certainly." Mom's voice dropped, taking on an edge that made my chest tighten. "But not for you, Brielle." The words landed like a slap. I looked up sharply, meeting her gaze. "Excuse me?" "You have to understand—Dante moves in circles you couldn't possibly navigate." She said it matter-of-factly, like she was explaining something obvious to a child. "His world requires a certain level of refinement, of composure. Of stability."