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“You’re a ghiotte.”

Twenty-Eight

Chi nasce lupo non muore agnello.

Those born as wolves cannot die as lambs. / People don’t change.

DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 19

It wasn’t every day a girl received a mortal wound, turned around at death’s threshold, and discovered her only friend in the world also happened to be one of the creatures from her nightmares. It was… a lot.

Ghiotte were evil. It was fact, not opinion. But Dantewasn’t.He couldn’t be.

At first, she thought he wouldn’t answer, hoped he’d scoff, and they’d both marvel at the absurdity of what she’d said.

He jerked a nod instead.

“You’re a ghiotte,” she said again. Her thoughts tangled, impossible to tease apart. She seized the most important thread and tugged. “And you used your gift to heal me.”

“No,” he said.“Youused it.”

“Butyouchose to hold my hands because you thought Icould.” Euphoria filled her. “Dante, you saved my life.”

His expression darkened at her breathy wonder. “I’m your bodyguard. That’s literally my job.” He stood and brushed off his pants. It was futile. They were thoroughly soiled with blood and filth and not worth salvaging.

Her mind churned with a tempest of emotion—horror, gratitude, fear, and awe. “Dante, you held my hand, andyou didn’t die.”

He looked uncomfortable. “For a minute, I thought I might.”

“But—”

“Don’t get excited. I don’t have anyusefulpowers.” Dante scanned the alley, practically twitching with nerves. “You need to get back to the Cittadella, and I have to get out of here.”

Alessa was prodding her miraculously intact belly.

With an impatient huff, Dante hauled her to her feet.

She swayed drunkenly and held out her bloody hands, one glove on and one off, as though to show him some fascinating treasure.

Dante gave her the long-suffering look of a sober patron at a bar past midnight and tucked her under his arm to hustle her along.

He was alive.

She was alive.

How in Dea’s name were they both alive?

She giggled, loopy from relief—and blood loss, if she was honest—and wrapped her fingers around his waist. Heat curled at the press of his body against her, the shift of firm muscles with every step.

They probably looked like lovers, clinging to each other, insearch of a private alley. She giggled again. Except for the blood. She didn’t have much experience for reference, but in books at least, clandestine romantic encounters didn’tusuallyinvolve quite so much of that.

Ever the grumpy chaperone, Dante did not steer them into a darkened alley, but half carried her, with an insider’s knowledge of the winding, unnamed streets, until the harbor cave loomed before them.

Inside, Dante maneuvered her down the path. The brisk walk had not cleared her head, but done the opposite, and stars burst in her vision as he leaned her against the wall. Vaguely aware she was sliding down, Alessa couldn’t stop herself. Dante caught her, propping her up with a knee between her legs.

“Oh, dear. You haven’t even bought me dinner,” she said with a snort.

He sighed, all taut muscles and jerky movement as he fished beneath her cloak for the key in her dress pockets.