In The Hand Of Dante Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

My equal. She’d expected comfort. Or pity. Or silence. But not that. Never that. Her throat ached. The fire she’d thought extinguished stirred faintly, fragile beneath the ash. She turned her hand in his, their fingers locking, steady now instead of trembling. “I don’t know if I can live with it,” she whispered. “With his blood on my hands.” “You don’t live with it,” Dante said, his voice low, his thumb brushing over her knuckles again. “You carry it. And you use it. That’s what we do.”

Then, in a quiet, intimate gesture, he pressed it into my hand. I didn’t need it. The blood on my skin belonged there. Still—I took it. Dante’s fingers brushed mine, lingering. Then he leaned in, his voice low. “You never looked more powerful.”

All he has to do is yield. Dante’s face remains hard as he glares at me. He snaps his sharp teeth and tries to wriggle free from my grasp. He’s defiant even as I hold his life in my hand, even as I offer him mercy. The claws ease out of my fingertips and in one swift motion I rip his heart out of his chest.

CAMILLA "What do you want Dante?" Ferrante asked. Dante looked at the man with so much malice that he shuddered in fear. "I want his hands because he dared to touch her. I want his tongue because he dated to lie about her" Dante declared. The man gasped and fell to his knees. "Please, I plead for mercy" he begged Dante. Dante ignored him and looked at the others in the room. "I should have your tongues cut off for lying too"

Then, he immediately withdrew his hand as if burned. Dante held his hand and barked a few commands at Pablo while he pointed angrily at Flora and her daughter. Pablo bowed and helped Flora rise to her feet as Dante glided back to the library. Pablo then held Flora’s arm and escorted mother and daughter out of the hall. Just as they left the landing, Jon caught a glimpse of what it was that seemed to have burned Dante's hand. Around the neck of Flora's daughter was the garland of sanaria that was missing from his room.

Dante’s voice echoed through the silent hall, heavy with a gravity that made the books on the shelves seem to vibrate. “I found more than I was ready to face,” Helena replied, standing up and holding the notebook against her chest. “My surname is in these books, Dante. My mark is on the stones in the forest. Why didn’t you tell me?” Dante walked toward her, his steps heavy and deliberate across the wooden floor. He stopped just a few inches away, the scent of leather and rain enveloping her like a cloak.

He tasted like expensive scotch and victory. ​I should have fought him. I should have pushed him away. But as his hands tangled in my hair, I realized the terrifying truth. ​I wasn't just his strategist. ​I was his drug. And he was never going to let me go. ​The elevator reached the penthouse with a soft ding. ​Dante pulled away just an inch, his eyes dark with obsession. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. He pressed it into my hand.

The hand fell with a sickening thud to the floor, twitching like it didn’t know it had died. Damon wailed—the sound wasn’t human anymore. It was the sound of a soul being shredded. Dante picked up the severed hand, blood running down his leather glove. He tossed it into Damon’s lap. “Eat it,” he said coldly. Damon whimpered, shaking his head violently. “P-please… please, I-I can’t—” Dante slammed his fist into Damon’s mouth—breaking a tooth. “You ate well when she starved. You slept easy when she was screaming. Now chew.”

The house was left raw, its walls humming with suspicion. Days later, Bianca stood in the vast Romano library, her pulse still caught in the memory of cold metal aimed at her chest. Her hand drifted over the shelves, restless, until a familiar leather spine stopped her. Her father’s favorite book. A battered collection of Dante’s works, the edges worn from his fingers. Something crinkled inside. Bianca froze, sliding the book free. She opened it and a yellowed envelope slipped onto her palm. The script across it made her knees weaken.

I removed my shirt and I placed it aside, I was only wearing a cropped top underneath as I began to dust thoroughly. While dusting, my hand brushed against the shelf but before it could fall I held onto it, keeping it in it's normal position but then I came across a novel. It was quite dusty and I couldn't read it's contents, I cleaned it and saw the name inscribed "Her submissive and his master". The thoughts of Dante flashed into my head and I smirked while flipping through the pages. "A mother uses her son as her sex toy!" I read the words out loud and I became intruiged to know more.