Chapter 56
Their lips crushed together so quickly that Riena had no chance to clamp her mouth shut.
Dante pushed his tongue past her lips at once. Unlike his previous kisses, this one was slow and deliberate, prowling inside her with unhurried possession.
Snapping back to herself a beat too late, Riena beat against his chest with her fists, trying to push him away.
But at the same moment, Dante wound an arm around her waist and the other behind her neck, yanking her hard against him. His kiss was slow, but his hold was fierce and swift.
Caught in his grip, she could no longer resist. Her hands clawed desperately at his shoulders and arms, nails scraping through the thin shirt soaked against his skin.
The sting only inflamed him further. A muffled groan escaped as he twisted his head and delved deeper, chasing her fleeing tongue, sucking in every breath and drop of mingled saliva she tried to escape.
Her nails dug, her fingers pinched at his flesh—but soon she was gasping, writhing for air.
It was the signal: she couldn’t breathe.
Yet instead of releasing her, Dante tightened his hold, pressing her body to his as though even rainwater would find no space between them.
Through the drenched fabric of her dress, her heart thundered wildly, every beat drumming into his chest.
The corner of his lips curved upward against her mouth. His golden eyes burned with a raw, searing possession.
Everything was his. Her breath, her heart, every sound of her soul. All of it.
How long had he devoured her like that?
At last, Dante pulled away. The moment his lips left, Riena shoved him hard. Their bodies parted abruptly.
“…Ha… haah…”
Her face flushed scarlet, Riena dragged in ragged breaths as though she’d sprinted for an hour. Her whole body trembled with exhaustion.
Dante simply stood there, watching her, then slowly brushed a hand across his mouth. A sting, the copper taste of blood—he had bitten down hard, and rain mingled with the crimson trickling down his chin.
He gave a short laugh.
She didn’t scrub her lips raw on her sleeve as she once had. Instead, she stood trembling on unsteady legs, glaring at him with burning eyes.
Eyes red and swollen like a frightened rabbit—beautiful, just as he expected.
Dante narrowed his eyes. Now came the waiting. She would break soon, those swollen eyes spilling tears at last.
And she did.
“You bastard. You filth.”
Her voice was rougher than before, laced with hatred.
Tears spilled heavy and fast, mingling with the rain, sliding down her face.
Dante watched, satisfaction thrumming in his veins… until irritation surged.
The rain washed away her tears too quickly. He wanted to claim them, to drink them, to make them his—because they were his doing.
As his twisted hunger raged inside, Riena wept harder, giving him what he had demanded.
“…You’re the worst. Disgusting. Deranged. You make my skin crawl.”
“Good. Say more. The more you curse me, the more I want you.”
His words were deliberately vile. He savored the horror that widened her tearful eyes.
She had no strength to run now. In this storm, soaked to the bone, where could she possibly go?
The satisfaction was deeper than he had expected.
He stepped forward.
“No—don’t come near me! Don’t touch me! Stay away!”
Riena’s voice cracked in a scream, raw with terror.
Her desperate defiance only fed him. Yes. Resist me. Struggle harder. That way this is never wasted.
Ignoring her pleas, Dante closed the distance until she was backed against a building wall.
So close their breath mingled, so close that if he tilted his head, he could kiss her again.
Riena trembled, sobbing, eyes wide with shame and fear.
“Riena.”
“A-ah…”
Her body swayed, knees buckling. Dante caught her arm, steadying her as he spoke.
“I take it back—what I said about you being worth no more than a sheet of paper.”
“…”
“You’re worth far more than that.”
His lips curved into a smile—innocent, almost childlike, as if he had just been handed a new toy.
Riena froze. Her mind stuttered blank.
He’s mad. A true madman.
Only now did she fully realize the man before her. And the horror of it suffocated her.
Her chest heaved, her body ached, cold shivers wracking her frame. Her vision swam.
Her knees gave way. Darkness flooded in.
The last thing she saw was Dante’s beautiful face, twisted as it blurred into black.
***
Wet footsteps pounded into the empty resort lobby. Each step splashed water across the polished floor.
“Callis!”
Dante’s deep voice echoed, heavy as the storm outside.
The lobby was deserted; staff had long since retired to their quarters. He glanced at the grandfather clock, muttered a curse, and clenched his jaw.
Just as he opened his mouth to bellow again, hurried footsteps clattered down the hall.
“Forgive me! I must have dozed off—” Callis stumbled out, fumbling with his glasses. “Your Grace! Where on earth did you—”
His words broke off in shock.
His eyes darted to Dante—and to the limp woman in his arms. Both were drenched, dripping water onto the marble floor.
“Your Grace! What happened? Who is this?”
“Fetch a doctor. At once. To the fifth-floor suite.”
Dante’s voice wavered ever so slightly, a discordant note in his command.
Without waiting for a response, he strode forward, his steps long and fast, cutting the shortest possible path upstairs.
And in that instant, Callis understood. This was her. The woman who had shaken the Grand Duke so violently.
For a heartbeat, curiosity flared—only to be replaced by urgency. He spun on his heel, racing toward the staff quarters without even fixing his glasses.
Bang!
Dante kicked open the suite door and strode into the pristine room.
Without hesitation, he carried Riena to the bed, laying her on the immaculate sheets. Then he turned and swept back into the living area.
“Damn it, where is it—”
He tore open drawers, searching until his jaw clenched and veins strained at his neck.
Finally, his hand seized the emergency kit he himself had ordered stocked in every suite. For once, he was grateful for his own foresight.
Grabbing towels from the bathroom, he returned, dripping water across the flawless carpet. He didn’t notice.Didn’t care.
He tossed the towel and kit onto the bed, yanked it open, and pulled out painkillers and fever syrup.
Without hesitation, he swallowed them himself.
Then he cupped Riena’s slack jaw, forcing it open, and pressed his mouth to hers once more.
Her lips were cold as ice, her breath absent.
Tilting her head, he passed the medicine into her mouth. She gagged faintly, syrup spilling at the corner of her lips.
He cursed under his breath, popped another dose of syrup, and sealed his mouth over hers again, forcing her to take it.
This kiss was nothing like the ones before.
There was no heat, no desire—only urgency. A frantic, almost desperate need to keep her here.
Only fear. Only desperation.
