Fem Dante Novels & Stories

She felt as if her lungs were growing heavier by the second, unable to inhale as much air as before and she leaned her face out of the window for a moment. "Of course I have no idea who that was—" "That was Dante." Nate snorted. "So?" He shrugged his shoulders when he saw her eyes widen. "Who the fuck is Dante?" "Dante Hercules," she sighed, her grip tightening around the wheel. "Even his name sounds dangerous. No one really knows what his family does. There are so many rumours about them," she explained, shaking her head as she realized how severe the mistake had been. "I personally think his parents are apart of the mafia. Others say that they used to be assassins, foreign spies. Some even

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.

Dante leaned against the counter, his demeanor cool and collected, "I'm looking for someone. A woman by the name of Raven," Dante's voice was a deep and resonant baritone, commanding attention with its rich tone. It carried a hint of weariness, a testament to the burdens he has shouldered and the battles he has fought. Every word that emerges from his lips is delivered with a layer of grit and determination as if honed by years of pain and survival.

he said with a lecherous sneer on his face. Antonio winced, "Don't be crass Paolo" he said. "Stop being a saint Antonio, it doesn't suit you" Paolo told him. "Why is the girl your secretary Dante? Surely you know better than to mix business with pleasure" Ferrante told him. "Not that it's anyone business but I am not sleeping with her" Dante turned to look at me in my seat. "She is far too scrawny and little to be my type. Fucking her would be child abuse" he said.

the man called after Felicia, he was thinking of how long it had been that Jenni longer went to the old house to relieve himself. It’s a shame that he had gathered such a great number of women but he didn’t get to touch all of them. It should be better though since their lives were also preserved in the process. Dante is actually a dominant whenever it come to the bedmatics, he likes to be in charge and he also prefgered inflicting pain and using tools. But most of these girls that coke are usually so weak that they couldn’t last a whole night, they became so weak and useless.

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.”

I demanded. He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his expression. "Oh, sweetheart," He set his glass down, rising to his full height. Slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance between us, stopping just close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. "I am your father’s… what do we call this now? Business associate. I am Dante Moreau’s business associate and he betrayed me." “Then what does it have to do with me?” His fingers lifted, trailing lightly along my jaw.

“Especially me.” She bit her lip, her mind reeling from the information. “He… he seemed charming.” Dante looked at her sharply. “He’s not.” Emilia blinked at the sharpness in his voice. “He’s charming the same way a loaded gun left on a child’s bed is harmless—until someone picks it up,” Dante continued. “He plays nice, but he’s a liar, Emilia. Manipulative. Calculated. He doesn’t do anything without reason, and if he came here tonight, it’s because he wanted something.”

As if chaos wasn’t pulsing just beneath the surface of it all. As if Alessia Romano hadn’t looked at him tonight like she wanted to bury a knife in his chest. A slow smirk curved his mouth. She’d be a challenge. He’d known that before he ever laid eyes on her. The Romano heiress was sharp-tongued, prideful, beautiful—an untamed flame wrapped in silk and pearls. But what the world didn’t understand was that Dante didn’t fear fire. He consumed it.

“Alive… that’s relative. Fear makes people pliable. A little cut, a little fire—she’ll break.” Dante’s jaw tightened. He hated the thought of Santini touching her, even as he told himself he shouldn’t care. She wasn’t his anymore. She hadn’t been for years. Still, the memory of her eyes—defiant, unbroken in the chamber—gnawed at him. “Don’t underestimate her,” Dante muttered. “She’s not the same woman she was.” Santini leaned back, smirking. “All the better. I like a challenge.”