Page 17 of Thorns of Silence

I yanked my hand back, glaring at him while my cheeks burned. It was the last memory that had me taking a step back, the old bitterness and pain snaking through my veins.

Dante Leone was a liar and the devil reincarnate with gray—fuck, maybe even black—morals and a dangerous personality. I no longer wanted his attention. I hated him, and myself, for always having to wonder why he left and never came back.

So yes, I was done with him. I’d learned my lesson, and my curiosity about the dark, dangerous man had been sated, almost destroying me in the process.

“Next time I see you stalking me, I am going to shoot you. Stay the fuck away from me and my sister,” I signed, then stepped back into my room without a backward glance, locking the door and drawing the thick curtains.

I was putting a stop to his stalker kink despite the longing I felt deep inside me.

EIGHT

DANTE

Ididn’t know how long I stood at the side of her bed, observing her as she slept, her long lashes throwing shadows over her cheeks.

She was cute when she was angry. Even cuter when she threatened me. But when she slept, she looked completely uncorrupted. An angel of innocence that had fallen from grace and was battling her own inner demons and tempting mere mortals.

And freaks like me.

There were all kinds of freaks and sinners who would die to see her like this, sleeping with her bare thigh hanging off the bed. Her tank top bunched around her waist, giving me a torturous glimpse of her breast.

It was so tempting to lean in and bite the curve of her ass, but it would seem I had enough decency not to do that while currently being here, in her room, uninvited.

She thought she could order me around. So fucking cute. The moment she fell asleep, I climbed back up onto the balcony, and like a slightly crazy Romeo, I broke into her room.

I stroked her dark mane away from her face. Petite, soft, and vulnerable, but also fierce. Tough.Like dandelions.Why did it always come back to dandelions with her?

I gave my head a subtle shake as I watched her sleep. Fuck, how I’d love to jerk off all over her. Mark her creamy skin.No. When that finally happened, she’d be begging me for it. AndthenI’d claim her cunt. My instinct told me we’d be a perfect match and she wouldn’t fucking disappoint.

My forefinger slid down her neck, caressing her soft skin. Her lips parted and she let out an exhale, her breath warming my hand as she leaned into my touch. I gasped, removing my hand with a jerk as if she’d burned me. Memories flooded my brain again, but they were foggy, distant, hard to distinguish.

I took a step back, breaking the touch as distorted images flashed through my skull of her naked on my bed, ass up, head down, her fingers clutching the sheets and begging me formorewith those submissive eyes.

Dante.The sound of her voice. When had I ever heard her calling my name?

I shook my head, pain piercing through my brain cells. It couldn’t be. This girl didn’t have a voice.Dante, Dante, Dante.

She chanted it like a prayer as my cock plunged inside her searing, tight heat. She was my own personal heaven, my redemption and salvation.

She turned her face to the side, her mane cascading over her shoulder. Her profile was perfect in every sense of the word, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to see all of her.

I clutched her soft hips and flipped her over.

At that, her face changed. I reeled backward. No, no, no. I didn’t want to seethat.Anything but that.

“It gets hard when I do that. That means you like it.” The sneer on that face. The bile in my throat.

The memory of those words knotted in my gut, and I put another foot of distance between the sleeping woman and myself.

My filthy hands shouldn’t touch her purity. They would stain her pale, soft skin with my sins and ruin her. My jaw locked. My chest shook, and I balled my fists over and over again. I needed to hurt someone, or someone to hurt me, beat the shit out of me. If I could focus on the physical pain, I wouldn’t have to think about the mental.

My eyes fell on Phoenix again.

To leave or not to leave.

I feared it was past that point. Around her, there was a sense of peace. Despite her glares. Despite her distaste. It felt good to be around her.

I had been watching her from afar, following her. Her privacy was nonexistent at this point. But everything I learned had only fostered my need to know more.