In The Hand Of Dante Book の小説・ストーリー

I didn't even know how to open up and take him in. It was at this point that Dante suddenly loosened up. He yanked his hands out of his pockets, then he grabbed my left wrist and suddenly hauled it up roughly, “This was the hand you used on me earlier, right?" He smiled again, then tilted my hand briefly then he said again, "You hit me with this hand… so you're fucking gonna use this same hand right now. I want those fingers wrapped around this cock properly before you take it into your fucking mouth.” I suddenly broke down into tears, “But…but how's this supposed to enter my mouth…it's…it's too big—” I begged. I couldn't even believe I was saying this.

Smoke and alcohol filled most of the atmosphere and it had me choked. I gulped and walked deeper into the room. Dante was already relaxed on the center couch, legs spread wide like he owned not just this room but the entire world. He reached for something on the table—a silver cigarette case that caught the light when he opened it. But I noticed something. A slight detail that didn't fit with the rest of his controlled perfection. His hands shook as he lit the cigarette. Just barely. Just enough that the flame wavered before catching. Then it was gone, hidden behind the smooth way he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled.

"Priscilla's idea is brilliant. There are 54 of us. It's enough for a deck of cards!" "The school banned playing cards, and Cassidy watches us like a hawk. Luckily for us, the admission tickets are with Priscilla for safekeeping. What is she gonna do now? Confiscate them? Hah!" "I'm playing this one! Who's going for it?" "I will! I've got Justin in my hand!" "Then, I'll play Priscilla!" Admission tickets were being smacked onto the desk one after another. Yet, the moment they saw me, the smiles on their faces were replaced by frowns.

he growled. My hands trembled as I held the cloth, fear tingling in every part of my body, wondering what Dante was planning. At that point, I felt close to losing my mind. ____ We left the house, and while in the car with Dante, the cold breeze of Naples blew on my face, causing my whole body to stiffen as I sat beside him in the front seat. Sometimes, I stole glances at him. For a cruel man, he was remarkably handsome, and I found myself lost in his beauty when I should have been concerned about my life. Finally, we reached a building, and Dante pulled up the car. My heart stopped for a moment, and I licked my already dried lips while staring, my hands clasped together.

His hands folded behind his back, eyes cast toward the garden below, glowing faintly under the afternoon light. “I know what I’m doing,” he said, his voice cold and calm. Luka stepped closer, his boots echoing softly on the stone floor. “That’s a spellbook from the First Era, Dante. Not even most witches have access to magic like that anymore. If it gets in the wrong hands—” “She is not the wrong hands,” Dante interrupted, turning slightly. Luka frowned. “You’re placing a lot of faith in someone who still doesn’t understand what she is—what she might become.”

He asked about my day, my dreams, my fears, and when I hesitated, unsure whether to share, he waited, patiently, like he had all the time in the world for me. Slowly, I told him about Drew, although not everything, but enough, and he didn’t flinch. He didn’t offer clichés or empty sympathy. He simply reached across the table and took my hand in his, and that single gesture just spelled out the words, ‘I'm here now.’ Later that night, as I lay in bed, I replayed the moment over and over. His touch, his voice, and the sincerity in his eyes. I felt the butterflies again, stronger now. Not chaotic, but certain.

I couldn’t move, my hands still bound, my heart racing. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice trembling despite myself. “You think you can take me like this? Just because I’m here, trapped?” Dante didn’t answer. His eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something dark. He trailed his fingers down my face, grazing my skin gently before they moved to my neck, his touch burning through my clothes. My breath hitched as his hand moved lower, cupping the swell of my breast. The heat that shot through me was enough to make me gasp. I tried to pull away, but the cuffs held me fast.

I called out as I reached out my left hand for a shake. He lifted his brow at me before he glanced at my bandaged right hand. Dante didn't look pleased to see the hand, but he still took my left hand with his for a firm shake. Dante shifted his eyes to Ella. "And you must to the beautiful Ella..." He commented as he offered her his right hand. Ella hesitantly reached out her right hand and tensed when Dante pulled her hand up and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Annoyance lingered at the back of my throat at the few seconds he held her hand in his.

Author's pov Dante sat down on the chair in his study. He was holding a book in his hand and he was looking like as if he was reading the book but on a closer look, it was obvious that his mind was not in the book that he was reading because he had been looking at one particular page for close to 30 minutes and the worst and hilarious part of it was that the book was turned upside down. Dante's mind was preoccupied with the thoughts of Olivia, he missed her very badly and wished for her to be found quickly. He regretted not telling her the truth and wished that he could turn back the hand of time and correct his mistakes.

He dared not finish. Dante’s grip tightened around her hand. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “She will survive. She has to.” --- Hours later, the villa had fallen into a tense silence. Amara lay in the large bed, her face pale against the pillows, her breathing shallow but no longer erratic. A soft glow from the lamp lit her features, fragile, ethereal. Dante sat at her side, his hand never leaving hers. His other hand held the poisoned wine bottle, its glass catching the light. He had stared at it for what felt like forever, the fury inside him carving deeper with each passing second.