​Bound by Blood and Border

CHAPTER TWO

The ink on the marriage license wasn’t even dry before the first mortar shell hit the eastern wall of the mission.

The ancient stone groaned, exploding into a shower of blinding white dust and jagged debris. The screams of the sisters echoed through the cavernous chapel as the stained-glass windows shattered, raining colorful, lethal shards onto the marble floor.

Before I could even register the blast, a heavy, solid weight slammed into me, throwing me to the ground.

Dante.

He shielded my body with his own, his massive, heavily muscled frame absorbing the shockwave. The scent of copper, smoke, and his expensive, woodsy cologne choked my senses. I was pinned beneath him, my hands instinctively clutching at the dark linen of his shirt as the world trembled around us.

"Stay down," Dante growled, his voice rough against my ear.

He rolled off me with fluid, predatory grace, already on his feet and pulling a black matte handgun from his holster. The calm efficiency in his movements was terrifying. Around us, his mercenaries were already returning fire through the breached wall, the deafening roar of automatic weapons filling the sacred space.

"Victor! Get the sisters into the underground crypts. Now!" Dante barked over the noise.

He grabbed my wrist, his grip iron-tight but careful not to hurt me, and hauled me to my feet. My legs felt like water. My habit was covered in dust, my veil lopsided, but when I looked into Dante's sharp, silver-flecked eyes, the panic in my chest froze into something else. Something electric.

"What about you?" I gasped, my voice barely audible over the gunfire.

Dante looked down at me, a wicked, thrill-seeking smirk cutting through the dirt and blood on his jaw. He actually looked like he was *enjoying* this. "We aren't hiding in a hole, Little Bird. The cartel knows I'm here. If we stay, they'll level this entire valley. We are going to the border."

"The border? That's suicide! It’s a lawless jungle!"

"It's a playground," he corrected, his thumb making a slow, deliberate stroke across the back of my hand, sending a confusing jolt of heat straight to my core despite the life-or-death stakes. "And you're coming with me, *wifey*. It's time to honor that contract."

Before I could argue, he yanked me toward the rear exit of the chapel, leading into the dense, overgrown brush of the sss basin. The humidity hit us like a physical wall, thick and suffocating, accompanied by the heavy downpour of the tropical storm. Within seconds, my long black robes were soaked, clinging to my skin.

We ran into the treeline just as a secondary explosion tore through the chapel courtyard. Dante didn't flinch. He navigated the tangled roots and muddy slopes with the ease of a man who belonged to the dark, wild places of the world.

An hour into the treacherous trek, the sounds of the battle faded, replaced by the rhythmic drumming of the rain and the deafening chorus of the jungle. My lungs burned. My shoes were ruined, and my heavy wet habit felt like a lead weight dragging me down. I slipped on a slick patch of mud, a small cry escaping my lips as I braced for the fall.

I didn't hit the ground.

Dante caught me by the waist, catching my weight effortlessly. Instead of setting me back on my feet, he pulled me flush against his chest, trapping me against the broad, rough trunk of a massive banyan tree.

The proximity was suffocating. I could feel the hard planes of his chest heaving against my breasts, the heat radiating off him in the cool rain. I was breathing heavily, staring up at the sharp angle of his jaw, the dark stubble, and the dangerous, flirty glint in his eyes. The twenty-year age gap between us felt less like a number and more like a vast, intimidating ocean of experience that I was drowning in.

"Tired already, Sister?" he murmured, leaning down so his lips almost brushed the wet edge of my jaw. His hand remained anchored tightly on my hip, his fingers digging into the damp fabric.

"I am... not accustomed to fleeing for my life through a rainforest," I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs—and not just from the running.

"You're doing fine," he teased, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly purr that made my knees weak. He reached up, his large, rough hand gently tucking a stray strand of my wet hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my heated skin. "Though, I have to admit... this habit is doing terrible things to my self-control. You look entirely too beautiful for a girl who belongs to God."

My breath hitched. "Dante, please. The contract... you said you would keep your hands to yourself."

Dante’s eyes darkened, the flirty amusement vanishing, replaced by a scorching, primal hunger that made the air between us turn to ash. He leaned in closer, his chest crushing mine, his gaze dropping to my parted lips.

"I lied, Valentina," he whispered, using my real name for the first time, his breath hot against my mouth. "I’ve been watching you from the shadows of that city for a year before you came to this mission. I let you play the saint. But out here, across the border? There are no laws. No vows. Just you, me, and the wild."

He didn't give me a chance to process his confession. Dante tilted my chin up and captured my mouth in a devastating, breathless kiss.

It wasn't a gentle negotiation; it was a reclamation. His tongue parted my lips with a possessive intensity that left me utterly undone. The sheer, unadulterated passion of a man who had waited a lifetime erupted between us against that tree trunk, the rain pouring over us as I gripped his shoulders, completely losing myself in his sinful, forbidden touch.

When he finally pulled away, his breathing was as ragged as mine. He rested his forehead against mine, his thumb tracing my swollen lower lip.

"We need to keep moving," Dante growled softly, a dangerous smile returning to his lips. "Because if I don't start running again, I'm going to ruin you right here against this tree, contract be damned."