The air still trembled after the near kiss. Ishani's pulse thundered in her ears as she pressed her hands against her chest, trying to will her racing heart to behave. Dante, of course, did nothing to help. He lingered just a hair too close, his body angled toward hers, eyes glinting with wicked satisfaction.
"Still trembling?" he murmured, his voice low, dangerous, brushing against her like silk over steel.
"I'm not," she spat, glaring at him. "And you—"
He tilted her chin with a finger, forcing her gaze to meet his. "You are. Don't lie to me. You can't hide it. Your body betrays you every second, bella."
Her teeth gritted. "You're insane!" She shoved at him again, hard, but this time he didn't move. His hold was firm, patient, like a trap snapping shut.
"You can fight," he murmured, his lips near her ear now, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "Scratch, bite, claw… it only makes this game sweeter."
Her fury ignited. She lashed out, nails digging into his shoulder as she twisted to push him away. He chuckled—a dark, low sound that made her blood churn—and leaned closer, not retreating, his body pressing hers against the table.
"You fight beautifully," he whispered. "Like a cat. Like you belong to no one. I want to taste that fire."
Her heart nearly stopped. "I'll claw your eyes out if you—"
His hand slid gently, impossibly, along her jaw, tilting her face toward his. Her nails scraped his chest again, and he only smiled, letting her aggression fuel the tension, his eyes alight with obsession.
"Say it," he whispered, lips brushing her temple. "Say you hate me."
"I hate you!" she screamed, her voice raw, her nails biting into him. "I despise you!"
He leaned in so close that her lips nearly brushed his again. "Good. Let your fire touch mine. Let it burn."
She twisted, yanking backward, nearly tripping over the edge of the chair, but he caught her waist in a swift, possessive grip, holding her against him. "Even now, you're mine," he murmured.
She thrashed, fists and feet flailing in pure rage, but the closeness, the heat, the impossibility of escape pressed down on her like iron. Her chest heaved, fury and fear tangled with something hotter she refused to name.
Dante's lips hovered at the edge of hers again, a whisper of a kiss, a promise of what was to come. He didn't cross the line—but the tension seared between them, an invisible chain stronger than any metal.
Finally, he released her slightly, letting her step back with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "Sleep now, bella," he murmured, voice husky. "Tomorrow, the game continues. And we both know… you'll still fight me every step of the way."
Her chest heaved, heat blazing through her blood, fury coiling tight, but her legs trembled as she sank back into the chair. She hated him. She hated how much she didn't.
And that, he knew, was exactly the point.