​Bound by Blood and Border

CHAPTER THREE

The safehouse wasn’t a cabin or a tent; it was a sprawling, brutalist fortress of concrete and glass cut directly into the side of a cliff overlooking the sss River. To the world, it didn’t exist. To Dante Vance, it was home.

By the time the armored SUV he had hidden at the jungle’s edge roared up the private, heavily guarded driveway, the storm had reached a fever pitch. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the black exterior of the house and casting long, predatory shadows through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Dante cut the engine, the sudden silence inside the vehicle heavy and thick with the unresolved heat of our kiss against the banyan tree.

"We’re here, Little Bird," he murmured, his silver-flecked eyes cutting to me in the dim dashboard light.

I didn’t move. I sat frozen in the passenger seat, staring at the imposing structure. My heavy black habit was soaked through, clinging to my body like a second skin, and my hands were still trembling. I was an ordinary novice nun, a girl who spent her days in a tiny, whitewashed room with nothing but a wooden cot and a Bible. Looking at this fortress of wealth and dark power made reality hit me like a physical blow.

I wasn't at the mission anymore. I was tied to a monster.

Dante didn’t wait for me to find my courage. He stepped out into the pouring rain, walked around to my side, and opened the door. Before I could protest, his large hands gripped my waist, lifting me effortlessly from the seat and placing me on the dry concrete of the covered garage.

He didn't let go immediately. His palms lingered on my hips, his thumbs sliding over the wet fabric, reminding me of the possessive heat of his mouth.

"Welcome to my world," he whispered, a dangerous, flirty smirk playing on his lips. "Try not to break anything. Especially my rules."

He guided me inside, the heavy steel doors sealing out the sound of the storm with a definitive, mechanical thud. The interior of the house was stunning—all polished dark wood, minimalist stone, and a massive fireplace that was already crackling with a warm, roaring fire, courtesy of his automated security systems.

Dante immediately shed his tactical vest, tossing it onto a leather chair before peeling off his soaked black shirt.

I choked on my breath, quickly averting my eyes as my cheeks burned a furious scarlet. Even with my eyes darting toward the floor, I couldn't unsee the expanse of his back—heavily muscled, map-marked with faded silver scars from a lifetime of violence, and radiating a primal, intimidating heat. The twenty-year age gap between us wasn't just a number; it was written in the hard, unyielding lines of a man who had survived a war I couldn't even comprehend.

A low, gravelly chuckle echoed through the open room.

"You can look, Valentina. It's perfectly legal," Dante teased, his bare feet padding softly across the stone floor as he approached me. "In fact, according to that paper in my vest, you have exclusive rights."

"Dante, please," I whispered, my voice tight as I kept my eyes firmly on the rug. "The contract said a fake marriage. A shield. You promised me."

"I promised to keep you alive," he corrected, his voice dropping an octave as he stopped right in front of me. The scent of rain, gunpowder, and his skin filled my senses. "And I will. But I never promised I wouldn't torment you a little."

He reached out, his rough, warm fingers catching the edge of my wet veil. With a slow, deliberate tug, he pulled the pins loose, letting the heavy dark fabric drop to the floor. My long, damp hair tumbled down my shoulders, completely exposed to his heavy, dark gaze.

Dante’s breath hitched, his flirty demeanor instantly vanishing, replaced by that familiar, suffocating hunger. He stepped closer, his chest nearly brushing my shoulder as he leaned down, his mouth tracing the sensitive shell of my ear.

"You look entirely too sinful without that headpiece, Little Saint," he growled softly. "Go upstairs. First door on the left. There’s a bath, and I had my men stock the closet with clothes before we arrived. Clean up. Change. Because if you stay in that wet habit for another five minutes, I'm going to rip it off you myself."

My heart hammered violently against my ribs, a mixture of pure terror and a wicked, forbidden thrill shooting straight down my spine. I didn't say a word. I gathered the hem of my heavy, soaked skirts and hurried up the floating wooden staircase, his intense, possessive stare burning into my back with every step.

The master bedroom was massive, dominated by a king-sized bed and a glass-walled bathroom. I locked the door behind me, stripped out of the wet robes of my old life, and sank into the steaming hot water of the tub. For an hour, I tried to pray. I tried to ask for forgiveness for the way my body had awakened under his touch against that tree. But every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the fierce, silver fire in Dante's eyes.

When I finally stepped out, I found the closet filled with luxurious, civilian clothes—nothing like the simple garments I was used to. I chose a soft, oversized silk robe that tied tightly at my waist, feeling dangerously bare without my layers.

I walked back down the stairs, the house quiet except for the crackle of the fire.

Dante was sitting on the low leather sofa in front of the hearth, a glass of dark amber scotch in his hand. He had changed into dry black trousers, his chest still bare, the firelight dancing across his scarred skin. When he heard my bare feet on the stone, he turned his head.

His glass stopped halfway to his lips. His gaze swept over me, from my damp hair to the flash of bare leg peeking through the slit of the silk robe. The air in the room instantly turned to ash.

"Come here," Dante commanded softly, his voice a low, rough purr.

I hesitated, but the sheer magnetic pull of him drew me forward until I was standing right beside the couch. Dante didn't hesitate. He reached out, wrapped his large hand around my wrist, and yanked me down.

I gasped as I tumbled straight into his lap. He anchored his arm around my waist, locking me against his hard thighs, his bare chest crushing against the soft silk of my robe.

"Dante—" I gasped, my hands landing on his broad shoulders to push him away, but my fingers instinctively gripped his skin instead.

"Shh," he murmured, his flirty, wicked smile returning as his eyes locked onto my lips. He leaned in so close our breath mingled, the heat from the fireplace nothing compared to the fire burning between us. "You survived the jungle, Little Bird. Now you have to survive me. Let's see how well you remember the rules."

Before I could answer, his mouth crashed onto mine, a devastating, breathless kiss ,he then bent down and sucked my left breast ,

Dan...dan , i said

I can't...d thissss

Before i could talk he found his way to my pink entrance and found my G spot ,my kneels buckled and i tried to say something but i it felt good

I squirted all over his face

Then he told me to come sit on his lap before i could understand whst was happening, he shoved his d**k into my ass , i whimpered in pain ,

He then put his hand in to my p***y, he f****d me so hard

Dante!!!

Fuck, ohh f**k dante

My ass hole...

It hurt

Fuck!!! Your d**k dante

Fucklk

I screamed ...

His d**k felt so good

I couldn't say if what i was doing was wrong or right..

Ohhh fuckkk...

He groaned

As he cummed in my ass hole after i squirted

Pick up ur panties, he said

Go to ur room