Back at the hospital Amara lay pale beneath the sheets.Every few seconds, her chest rose and fell like the world was holding its breath just to keep her alive.
Dante stood at the edge of her bed, unmoving.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. His fingers were fisted so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.
For a heartbeat, it looked as if he might reach out…brush a stray lock of hair off her forehead, whisper her name…kiss her may be…but he didn't. He only looked…kept staring at her face.
That look… Goddess be witness…it wasn't just longing. It was possession, grief, guilt, fury…all tangled into something too dangerous.
And then…the steady beeping on the monitor skipped.
A single, faint miss of a beat…Or was Dante imagining it?!
His own heart clenched a little… he didn't feel too well. But the thought of leaving Amara behind, ripped through him like a blade.
