With his stubble that darkened his jaw, contrasting with his impeccably dressed body. Dante Maroni was a vision of masculine beauty and primitive badassery, with a dark gaze that missed nothing and a light smile that hid everything. He was contradictions and balances complimenting each other in one specimen, a slow, deceptive, undetectable poison to everyone except the people close to his heart. Small doses of him over the years had made her stronger, a resilient survivor.
"Marry me, Amara.
Be my wife, be my dirty girl, be mine. Give me your dreams and your nightmares, your pleasure and your pain, your fantasies and your fears. Give me everything. Be my queen outside, and my filthy firl inside."
And make me fucking yours, so everyone who looks at my ring knows I have you finally say yes, Amara."
"you should've known not to run from me, crazy girl. I would chase you to the ends of this world."
-Dante Maroni
"You didn't tell them about the baby"
His fingers brushed over her scars, his eyes going to her still-flat stomach.
"I don't want to share her yet."
Her heart fluttered "We don't know the gender yet"
He just shrugged bending to press his face to her gown, right over the baby "She's a fighter, a survivor like her momma. Aren't you, princess?"
🖤🌸
The strong don't have bleeding wounds. They have scars that heal.
He and I, we're doomed to bleed from a wound that will never heal.
Dante had never known softness and strength could coexist together in such balance before her. Despite being through everything she'd been through, walking through hell and fighting the demons in her mind. She still had a love for life that unmanned him. The most generous of hearts, the most steely of spines, Amara was a woman of beauty, a warrior of blood, a queen of scars.
🖤
But something was wrong. His eyes were too dark, too heavy. She'd spent enough time learning the browns in them-how the sunlight hit every fleck, turning them to burnished gold, how night made them black holes, sucking everything they saw into themselves. She knew his eyes like the scars on her wrists. Every little bit memorized, imprinted on her heart.
There wasn't much difference between true evil and true love. They snuck up on the vulnerable, gripped them by the throat, and left a realm of ruin behind.
-The Emperor
"Let go Amara, Let go of everything inside your head," the continued speaking Guiding her forward, then back. "Feel.Just close your eyes and feel The music. This moment. Me."
Amara felt her eyes flutter close, her heart racing, "What if get hurt?" she whispered into his jacket
He pulled back so she could see him, his eyes solemn, soft. sincere on hers.
"Then I'll kiss your scars."
🖤
"You're the beat to my heart, Amara," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, and something that had been wilted inside Amara unfurled, opening, soaking, blooming in the emotion she could see in his eyes.
She was the beat to his heart and he was the beat to hers, both of them pulsing together.
Maybe they were both the same beats.
Maybe, theirs was the same heart.
🖤
Amara wasn't sunlight of clear skies; she was the sun hiding behind dark clouds, muted but powerful enough to still light the world.
She is strong like water is strong - it doesn't appear that way because it's adaptable, but it can seep into the smallest of cracks and break open the largest of rocks over time.
-Amara
"You're not going to walk through life, Amara," he uttered roughly each word a vow that cemented itself in her heart. "You'll dance through it. And I'll fucking remove anyone who tries to break your rhythm. I promise you."
~Dante Maroni 🖤
Though he was washing the blood off his skin, it had already seeped into his pores, mixing with his veins, a scar on his heart every time it beat.
"Your heart will always know your truth."
~ The Emperor
"In the middle of the journey of our life, I found myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost."
~Dante Alighieri, Inferno.
And he followed like the besotted moth he was, ready and willing to burn in the pits of hell as long as she looked at him like that.
🖤
She was his gift for a fucked up life, this woman of fire that warmed his chilled, lonely bones.
~ The Reaper
Don't hate me again."
His hand flexed on her throat "Do you know why I enjoy holding you like this?
She shook her head.
"I can feel your life under my hand," he stated, his eyes burning on hers, his fingers locking her life to him.
"Your body, your life, your heart- they're all mine now. Trust me keep all of them safe"
🖤
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