Page 37 of The Stars

“Tell me what you want,” he said, watching her skin flush for him. “This?” he asked, and slid his finger underneath the silk to touch her. She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “More?” he asked and she nodded again.

He removed his fingers and her eyes opened. He smiled. “Tell me.”

“I… want you to touch me,” she whispered. “To kiss me.”

“Don’t be shy now,” he warned with a grin.

She smiled. “Dante, touch me. Slide your fingers in me, your tongue in me. Play with my clit. Fill me.” She took his wrist in her hand and pulled it back towards her. He did what she asked, gliding his fingertips over the silk until she was wet and panting, demanding him. Then he dipped down and placed his mouth over the silk. When he no longer could go without tasting her, he ripped it aside.

He didn’t know how much longer he could control himself. Feeling her slickness, smelling her sweet scent of arousal, tasting her skin.

When he nudged her legs further apart so he could run his eyes over her in the moonlight, he realized just how much he’d wanted her all these years. How he’d dreamed of this very moment.

Destiny.

The three Fates had talked of this. How this moment had always been. They had been locked to this time and place. To each other.

When he slipped inside her, power surged deep in his chest, something he’d never felt before. It vibrated and warmed him from the core.

Yes. He was who he had always been. Would always be. Hers.

Chapter Thirteen

Once again, Dante’s arm was pinning her to the bed. He shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm heavy across her waist, holding her close. The warmth of the morning sunbathed them in a soft golden light, filtering through the open balcony doors and casting long shadows across the stone floor. For a moment, Amy just lay there, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, the soft rustle of the sea breeze stirring the curtains, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore.

This world was so still. So peaceful. So… wild.

This was where she wanted to stay. For as long as she could. It was pure heaven.

Her mind drifted back to the night before, the intensity of it all—how they’d fallen into each other, finding solace in the chaos, the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

In this quiet moment, it felt as though time had slowed, the world outside their door forgotten, and all that existed was this—Dante beside her, their bodies entwined, and the gentle peace of the new day.

Nothing inside her had changed or awakened. She was still Amy. Just Amy. No Pandora. No threats to the world around them or the world that was to come.

She felt him stir again, a soft murmur escaping his lips as he buried his face into the curve of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. A smile tugged at her lips, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to forget the weight of the prophecy, the Fates, and everything that loomed ahead of them.

Dante’s fingers flexed, his grip tightening slightly.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, his voice deep and rough.

Amy shifted beneath him, turning slightly so she could look at him. “Morning.”

He lifted his head slightly, squinting against the sunlight pouring in through the open balcony as he blinked awake, his eyes still clouded with sleep. He stretched, his muscles rippling under his skin as he finally released her from his hold, though his hand lingered on her waist, his touch lazy and familiar. “You’re warm,” he muttered, half-asleep still, his lips grazing her shoulder.

“You too,” she teased softly, running her fingers through his hair.

For a moment, they just lay there, the quiet between them comfortable. But as the warmth of the sun grew and the world outside began to wake, reality started to creep back in. The temple. The Fates. The inescapable truth of what awaited them.

Dante let out a slow breath and finally rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as if it held answers. His voice was softer when he spoke again. “Last night… we talked about fighting back, about not letting them control us.”

Amy nodded, her heart tightening at the thought. “Do you still believe we can?”

His eyes shifted towards her, his gaze unwavering. “I do. I have to. I don’t care what they said—we’re not just pieces on their board. We’re not powerless.” He glanced over at her. “Do you feel different?”

She shook her head. “You?”

He shook his head.