Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Dante’s POV
An insistent ringing jolts me out of sleep, pulling me from hazy dreams of red lips and tangled sheets. My eyes open, adjusting to the faint light filtering through the thick curtains, and I blink in confusion, taking in my surroundings. This was my hotel room–the place I always came to clear my head and rape pack obligations for a bit. Yet something felt different. The air was thick with an unfamiliar scent–something floral and sweet, with a hint of spice–like jasmine but richer.
Memories came rushing back, crashing over me like a freight tr. The woman from last night. Her deep auburn hair, eyes like a smoky whiskey, the freckles that danced across her cheeks and nose. And the way she’d looked at me, her face a mix of fear and yearning. I could almost feel her touch still lingering on my skin.
The persistent ringing snapped me back to reality, and I cursed, grabbing my phone off the nightstand. “Someone better be dying. I muttered into the receiver.
“Someone is going to die, and it’s going to be you if you don’t get back here like an hour ago, a sarcastic voice shot back. I didn’t need to check the caller ID to know it was my little brother, Caius.
“What do you mean?” I replied, rolling my eyes at his theatrics.
“Dante,” he sighed, the weight of a lecture already hanging in his voice, “the old man’s pacing, and it’s all because his eldest son ran off mid–discussion last night. He’s not exactly pleased with your disappearing act.”
I groaned, running a hand through my hair as I dragged myself out of bed. Every muscle felt worn, but in a good way I’d spent hours working off every bit of tension I carried. There was an unusual energy humming through me, a strange feeling of being sated that I couldn’t quite shake. My mind drifted back to her, my mysterious partner from last night.
like
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and a flash of her face swept over me: those expressive eyes, shining with something I couldn’t place. Her slight hesitation, her conflicting vulnerability, and the way she’d clung to me as if needing more than just a simple one–night reprieve.
She’d been different from anyone I’d ever been with. Innocent, ves, but not in the traditional sense. She was holding something back, something deeper than just nerves. Then the memory of her whispered plea floated back: More.
She’d begged, nearly breathless, with a desperation that hit me harder than I wanted to admit. And that’s when I remembered–she’d been a virgin. I’d been with plenty of women, but this? I’d never been the first for anyone, much less someone like her.
“Dante! Are you even listening to me?” Caius’s annoyed voice broke through the haze.
“Not really,” I replied flatly, knowing it would rile him up..
“Do you even understand the mess you’ve left me to deal with? Dad’s not going to force you into a marriage; he was just-
the shower, letting cold “It doesn’t matter,” I cut him off, clenching my jaw as I walked into the bathroom and turned on water shock me back to full clarity. “The fact that he’d even mention an alliance with the Wolfes is enough. Out of everyone, I thought he’d understand. He’s the one who always talled them our enemies. And now he wants to hand me over like some bargaining chip?”
“You know he’s doing it for us,” Caius’s voice softened. I could hear him pacing in the background, his usual sarcasm replaced with a rare seriousness. “The Wolfe pack is a shadow of what it used to be, and they’re just using this peace talk to avoid a full–on war. They’re weak, and you know Dad can’t resist an opportunity to play savior.”
I clenched my jaw. Our father, Raiden Steele, was a force of nature, but he was also one of the most stubborn, righteous men alive. He had instilled in us the value of strength and sacrifice, but he hadn’t been shy about his hatred of the Wolfe pack. Not after they’d played a part in our mother’s death
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Chapter 8
I shook my head, trying to dispel the frustration that came with houghts of home. Instead, my mind circled back to last night. As I shut off the water, walked out the bathroom and grabbed a towel, I caught a glimpse of the bedside table, and there it was: a fifty–dollar bill and a small, neatly folded note.
Frowning. I picked it up, my confusion growing as I read the message scrawled in looping handwriting:
Thank you for your services Take care, and good luck.
I stared at the note, incredulous. She’d paid me? The woman ha left money on the nightstand and wished me “good luck” like I was some hired company. The absurdity of it hit me in waves, followed by a reluctant chuckle.”
“Caius,” I called into the phone, my voice measured.
“Yeah?” he replied, clearly still annoyed.
“Hypothetically speaking, what would it mean if a woman you spent the night with left you fifty bucks and a note thanking You for your… services?” I kept my tone casual, but I could almost hear him holding back his laugh.
He paused, then he burst out laughing, a full, unrestrained laugh that echoed through the speaker. “You’re kidding right? She obviously thought you were a call boy.”
I rolled my eyes, gritting my teeth against the embarrassment creeping up. “Shut up,” I muttered, tossing the note and cash. back onto the table, irritation bubbling beneath my skin.
“Seriously, Dante. Guess you found a new career path!” he teased clearly reveling in my discomfort. “Oh man, wait till dad finds out
“Enough, you won’t speak a word of this to him.” I said, rubbing hand over my face as I felt a begrudging smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Where’s Dad?”
“In his study,” Caius replied, still chuckling. “Pacing and muttering to himself about “stubborn sons‘ and ‘ruined reputations. You know, the usual.”
I sighed, bracing myself for the inevitable lecture. But my mind kept drifting back to her. To Valencia, I hadn’t even asked for her full name. I hadn’t needed to. We’d met at that bar, both there to forget something or someone, but her haunted eyes hinted at wounds deeper than mine.
There was something about her, something that called to me in a way I didn’t understand.
Hell, I didn’t know what I was feeling, but one thing was clear: she was far from the forgettable encounter I’d thought she’d
be
“Better get moving, Dante. Dad won’t wait forever,” Caius said, amusement still lacing his words.
I nodded to myself, pulling on a fresh set of clothes and slipping the note into my pocket, almost without realizing it. “I’m on my way. Just let him know I’ll be there soon.”
“Sure thing, big brother,” Caius replied, his tone lightening. “And hey, next time you get laid, try not to get paid. We don’t want to tarnish the family name.”
I groaned at the stupid joke and ended the call. But despite myself I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped me.
Chapter 9
