A Mafia Werewolf Romance

Chapter 8: Blue Lake

"Why this mountain?" Dante asked for the third time.

After a long climb, Sera and Dante finally reached a spot halfway up the mountain where tickets for the cable car were sold. At the summit, there was a cable car for tourists; looking down from it offered a panoramic view of the entire mountainside.

"Because I wanted to see it."' Sera tightened her coat against the swaying motion of the cable car. "You were the one who asked what I wanted."

In truth, he hadn't interfered with the decision. He had said the day was entirely up to her, and this was her choice-because the penthouse was all glass walls and the city was too noisy; she had heard that up here, the air was fresh and perfect for quiet reflection.

His stamina was superhuman. By the second switchback, her lungs were burning and her calves were screaming with soreness, yet he hadn't even broken a sweat. She pushed upward out of sheer stubbornness, while he kept glancing back; whenever he turned, his pace would slow to match hers until they were climbing side by side, as if they had always walked together like this.

On the observation deck, an elderly couple sat resting on a bench. With their white hair and weathered faces, they bore the unmistakable air of partners who had walked hand-in-hand for forty years. The old woman smiled softly as she watched them approach; as they passed, she called out to them.

"This young woman is a fine partner-you'd best cherish her." The old woman winked at Dante. "Such a beautiful girl... if you lose her, you'll never find another like her."

Sera's face flushed bright red, glowing like a signal flare.

But Dante stopped and bowed slightly-a gesture of knightly solemnity-and said, "I have no intention of losing her."

The old man let out a wheezy chuckle.

Sera's face was now burning hot enough to boil a shrimp; she hung her head, unable to utter a word, wishing she could simply crawl into a hole and hide. The elderly couple nodded in satisfaction; supporting each other, they walked up the mountain with cheerful smiles.

Only after they had moved some distance away did Dante, with an amused smile, gently ruffle the top of her head. "They're gone now-aren't you going to look up?"

Sera kept her head bowed. From above, one could see only her face,

flushed deep crimson from shyness, and her small, rosy ears. Dante smiled, took her hand, and began to walk upward. Biting her lip and blushing, she followed close behind him.

Three great mountains surround the Blue Lake-named Facing the Wind, Chasing the Moon, and Gazingat the Sun-each featuring several streams of varying sizes. Dante and Sera had chosen to climb Chasing the Moon Mountain; Sera had a little ulterior motive for this choice-it was the only peak that offered a cable car ride, and she wanted to experience it.

Just below the ridge, they found the stream marked on the map: a silvery current flowing over black rock, the water biting cold. She sat on a flat rock and removed her boots; the stream embraced her feet like an old friend.

The cool water washed over her small feet, sending a refreshing chill right through her. It felt so good that Sera's eyes narrowed like a cat's; her brow smoothed out, and a smile played naturally on her lovely lips. Her feet-pale and delicate as if carved from jade-curled in delight before slowly stretching out again within the clear water, moving with exquisite grace and allure.

"Giggle..." A crisp, bright laugh escaped her. In that unguarded moment, she looked just like a little girl-so innocent and carefree that it was enough to make anyone envious.

For the first time all week, her shoulders-which had been tense enough to almost touch her ears-finally relaxed.

Then, he stepped up behind her.

Sera opened her eyes and tilted her head back slightly, immediately spotting Dante. She stopped laughing, feeling a bit embarrassed; she felt she had perhaps let her emotions show a little too openly. And so, like a sensitive plant, she instantly recoiled; she hunched her small frame and lowered her head as she quietly soaked her feet. The faint flush at the tips of her ears betrayed a hint of her shyness.

There was no direct physical contact. He stood right there- close enough for her to sense his presence through the air- before carefully wrapping his arms around her. Resting his chin near her temple, he held her while stretching out his long legs with the air of an emperor. The resulting posture was incredibly intimate: she was trapped in his embrace, her upper body pressed against him, while her fair, slender legs-submerged in the stream-rested against his as if seeking support.

Sela's breathing grew rapid; the level of intimacy felt too exposed for broad daylight. After all, they were outdoors on Mount , a place where hikers passed by from time to time. She grew restless, unsure of where to position her legs-pale and smooth as lotus roots-within the water. Rong Ling seemed intent on teasing her and watching her squirm; wherever she tried to move her legs, his strong, athletic legs would follow, pressing domineeringly against hers and radiating a searing heat that contrasted sharply with the cool stream water.

She wanted to stand up, to break free and be alone, for the position was simply too intimate and embarrassing. Yet, he refused to let go. He was a man accustomed to having his way, seemingly indifferent to anyone else's feelings.

"Is this what you wanted?" Dante asked.

"Yes, just like this,' she said. "Perhaps... I'd like to stay like this a little longer."

He didn't answer, simply tightening his arms to maintain the embrace.

But fate seemed determined to thwart her; just as she had managed to convince herself to sit there with a sense of calm, a disruptive development arose right behind her. Because her body was pressed so closely against his-with her waist and hips practically wedged between his legs-she could clearly feel the change occurring: that part of him was slowly swelling and hardening. "Oh-"

She let out a soft gasp, embarrassed, and tried to shift her body away. She had no idea what she had done wrong to suddenly provoke this reaction from him.

He gripped her waist and murmured softly against her ear, "Does your waist hurt?"

Only then did she notice his voice was unusually hoarse-that specific, intimate tone that made her blush and her body tremble with familiarity.

He didn't wait for an answer; instead, he began to knead her waist with a steady rhythm. He must have had experience with massage, for the pressure was perfect-firm yet gentle-forcing her to admit it felt wonderful. The soreness in her slender waist seemed to melt away under his touch.

"Mmm..." The sheer comfort made her let out a soft, kitten-like moan. For a moment, she forgot the danger of their situation. That unintentional sound instantly ignited a fire in the eyes of the man behind her.

While one hand continued to knead her waist, he reached out with the other, took her small hand, and guided it toward his crotch. Upontouching something hard, she snapped back to reality from her blissful state, her face draining of color in shock.

"Dante!"

She cried out, trying to jerk her hand away as if she had touched a venomous snake. She even tried to spring up-forgetting the danger of sitting by the stream-but Rong Ling pinned her down with one hand. With his other hand, he firmly pressed hers against his burning, aroused member.

His deep voice rumbled against her ear.

"Help me."

She froze. "Help you with what?"

"Breathing." His chest rose and fell slowly against her back. "Just like this. I've almost forgotten how to do it."

Tears of helpless distress welled up in the corners of Serra's eyes. Guided by him, she was forced to relieve his arousal. Curled up in his arms, she was too mortified to lift her head. She felt a fresh wave of regret, thinking how foolish she was-why had she suggested coming here? Why had she insisted on soaking their feet? Yet she forgot: a "little white rabbit" like her, no matter where she chose to hole up, could never escape a cunning wolf- she was destined to be devoured!

"Someone's there..."

She whimpered softly, feeling utterly aggrieved.

He was as ruthless as a bully; he pinned her small hands down and clamped his legs tightly around her slender frame. Lowering his head to nip at her ear, he let out a low, husky growl: "Focus on what you' redoing-stop letting your mind wander!"

Letting her mind wander?!

Sera felt like she was losing her mind! It wasn't *her* mind that was wandering-it was this wretched man's!

A surge of anger made her grip tighten involuntarily, eliciting a low, stifled groan from him. That sound-a man's sigh of gratification-exploded right beside her ear, startling her so much that she instinctively tried to pull her hand away. But he held fast, gripping her hand with immense strength.

"Don't let go. Keep going-harder!"

Her face flushed crimson instantly, and she pleaded softly, "I don't want to... please, spare me..."

The searing object beneath her hand felt hotter than an iron rod fresh from the furnace; she tried to pull away but couldn't.

He grunted, ruthlessly savoring her embarrassment and her helplessness!

She bit her lip in frustration; she wanted nothing more than to bite him back, yet she dared not.

The stream murmured as it flowed; the surrounding mountains held their breath in silence. Eighteen-year-old Sera Voss-a girl sold under contract, wearing an emerald necklace gifted by a stranger-sat in the lap of the most dangerous man in Crescent Bay. Their breathing synchronized-in and out-until the world narrowed down to the sounds of water and wind, and the steady, thunderous beat of his heart against her back.

At the most inopportune moment, a group of hikers crested the ridge.

"What a coincidence-running into you here." The voice was smooth and playful, yet it instantly set off alarm bells. "To think the renowned 'Silver Fang' would engage in the sort of thing tourists do. I wonder how the papers would write that up?"

Adrian Castellano stood at the end of the trail, a hiking party trailing behind him. His smile was a stark contrast to Julian Black's-it was relaxed, practiced, and seemed permanently etched onto his face. His gaze flicked between Dante and Sera, finally settling on her collarbone and the emerald pendant-lingering a full three seconds longer than politeness allowed.

A seasoned player in the game of romance, how could he fail to notice the subtle, charged tension between the two? How could he not sense that his arrival had ruined the moment?

Sure enough, this delicate-looking beauty was wild and uninhibited to the core. Making love in the embrace of these mountains-it was the ultimate pleasure.

"We're leaving," Dante said. He had risen silently and now stood as a barrier between Sera and the trail; never before had Sera felt the overwhelming presence of his towering frame so intensely.

"So soon?" Adrian spread his hands. "The mountain is big enough for all of us. Besides, you and I have business to discuss, Dante. The kind that can't wait."

At that moment, the group behind him walked over, curious. "Who is it, Adrian?" they asked, eyeing the imposing Dante with interest. Many more gazed at Sera in sheer awe, a single thought crossing their minds: *Is she a forest sprite? She's too beautiful to be mortal!*

Exposed to so many eyes-and still reeling from the embarrassing act they had just been engaged in-Sera was a bundle of nerves. Terrified that they had been found out, she blushed crimson with shame; she ducked her head, burying her face in the crook of Dante's shoulder, while tears of mortification welled up and slightly dampened his shirt. "That's the sort of business that can wait." Dante's voice turned as cold as midwinter. "Right now, we don't want to be disturbed.”

For a moment, no one moved. The hikers shifted uneasily on their feet. The smile remained frozen on Adrian's face, though a flash of icy menace flickered deep within it before vanishing-much like a switchblade snapping back into its handle.

"Another time, then." He gave a slight, mocking bow to Sera-a gesture of exaggerated deference. “I hope you enjoy the mountain, Ms. Voss. The view from the summit is famous-every bit as famous as the renown you are about to achieve."

He turned and walked away, his entourage trailing close behind like a flock of birds scrambling for a feeding trough. The stream rushed on, and the sunlight remained brilliant. Yet the mountain air had shifted; Sera realized she was holding her breath again without even noticing.

"Who is he?" she asked.

Dante kept his gaze fixed on the trail until the last hiker disappeared behind the ridge.

"A man who studies things," he said, "before making them his own."

He held out his hand. She took it. He didn't let go the entire way down the mountain, his eyes scanning every patch of shadow with the air of a man counting a pack of wolves in the woods.

A desire left unsatisfied is not one that simply fades away. Dante was a man driven by goals; once he set his mind on something, he had to see it through. He had intended to give Sera a scare-and he had succeeded. While that satisfied the initial impulse, it didn't fully quench the fire. He was a man who never denied himself anything, a maverick who held social conventions in contempt; so, the one who had stoked the flames was the only one who could put them out. Watching the group disappear into the distance, he patted Sera on the shoulder. "They're gone now. Don't you want to get up? ”Sera felt as though she'd been granted a reprieve; she immediately lifted her head from the crook of his shoulder, nodding as she scrambled to pull herself out of his embrace. She had no desire to repeat the experience she'd just had.

By the time she had finished getting ready, Dante was fully dressed as well.

”Let’s go!”

There was a distinct tension in his voice, though Serra-still shaken from the scare of the sudden encounter-failed to notice it. As Dante led her along, she remained preoccupied with the worry that they might have been spotted. It was only when she realized the path they were taking seemed wrong that she finally asked, "Dante, where are we going?"

Dante was pulling her toward the woods bordering the road. It was early summer; the vegetation was lush, and the trees grew thick and vigorous. Serra couldn't fathom what Dante intended to do. Seeing that he remained silent and simply kept pulling her forward, she stopped asking and tried her best to keep pace with him. She trusted him instinctively; the thought of scenarios like being abandoned in the wilderness or sold off into trafficking never even crossed her mind.

So, when she was suddenly pinned against a large tree with Dante pressing against her from behind, she let out a startled cry-a sound instantly stifled by his large hand. While one hand covered her mouth, the other easily restrained her; he was clearly a man trained in combat, knowing exactly how to subdue someone with maximum efficiency. His free hand effortlessly pulled down her cropped trousers, immediately pressing his groin against her.

The familiar hardness shocked her to the core. She had assumed his arousal would have subsided by now, but she had misjudged the nature of the man she was with. She whimpered softly; the prospect of making love in a place where the sky was their roof and the earth their bed pushed her nerves and endurance to the limit. The terrifying fear of being seen by a passerby made tears stream down her face like a brook, wetting Dante's hand. Dante sighed inwardly, feeling a pang of reluctance. He turned her around to face him, then lowered his head to plant a soothing kiss on her whimpering, tearful mouth, his voice deepening into a husky, rich, and soothing murmur. "Don't be afraid; I won't let anyone see you. Hold on tight."

She shook her head, adamantly refusing, and struggled violently. He felt a sense of resignation; he could easily have used her father's business to force her into submission, yet at this moment, he had no desire to do so. Instead, he pinned her against the tree, wrapping one arm around her slender waist to keep her from slipping, while the other arm cradled her neck affectionately, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder; meanwhile, his lower body pressed intimately against hers. They moved in unison, swaying with a slow, rhythmic cadence. To an onlooker, the pose would simply suggest an intimate couple; no one would jump to the wrong conclusion. That was why Dante felt so uninhibited...

"If you can't hold it back, bite my shoulder!"

He whispered into her ear. Her tears were scalding, stoking the fire that burned within him. He pressed her face against his shoulder; though he could not see her features, he could vividly recall how she looked in the throes of passion-that pale, lovely face flushed with a rosy hue of desire and glistening with tears, like a delicate, evocative painting that speaks volumes in its reticence... His movements suddenly grew fierce; she whimpered in distress until, finally, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, her tears soaking the fabric.

After he pulled her out of the woods, Sera grew sullen. Not only were her legs so weak she could barely walk, but her lower back ached even worse than before. Whenever a passerby walked by, she felt as though her secrets were being laid bare; she wished she could simply dig a hole and bury herself right there.

"Let's head back."

He spoke casually, a smile playing on his lips—a smile that looked positively wicked.

She bit her lip, knowing full well that if she simply nodded, he would take her back immediately. Yet... she felt a lingering sense of reluctance. She felt she had suffered a huge loss, and if she didn't do something to make up for it, the frustration would gnaw at her heart.

"I don't want to walk. Carry me down."

She spoke in a voice no louder than a mosquito's buzz, refusing to meet his eyes. Her small, fair hands were clasped nervously at her waist; she looked fragile, yet her stance revealed a stubborn streak of determination.

Dante raised his eyebrows in surprise. Could he... interpret this as a little provocation from his "kitten"? He knew his own wicked nature well; he realized that what he had just done to her was likely heinous enough to warrant a one-way ticket to hell.

He chuckled softly. It seemed that even the most docile kitten had claws.

"Hop on. I'll carry you."

Sera’s head snapped up, her face a mask of astonishment as she wondered if this was truly happening.

Dante, however, was growing impatient. He patted his back and said, "If you don't get on now, I'm leaving you behind!"

He was a master of threats. Sera was so accustomed to his threats that, before her mind could even process his words, her body had already reacted; she leapt onto his back and wrapped herself around him like an octopus.

He stood up effortlessly and began walking up the mountain with ease, as if the person on his back weighed no more than a stuffed toy.

And so, the hikers witnessed a striking scene: a tall, powerfully built, and breathtakingly handsome man carrying a petite, exquisitely beautiful woman slowly up the mountain, his expression calm and devoid of the slightest impatience. The young woman buried her small face—barely the size of a palm—into the crook of the man's shoulder; her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed rather shy.

The group of elderly men and women smiled knowingly, occasionally exclaiming, "It’s wonderful to be young!"

Those who felt a twinge of envy would tug at their spouses' arms and grumble with a hint of sourness: "Look at that—what a perfect boyfriend. Just look at you; back when we were young, I’d ask you to carry me on your back just once, and you’d always make excuses..."

The old men would simply chuckle in response.

There was no malice among them; they wished nothing but the best for the young couple.

Her gaze fell upon his sharply defined features—seeing them so clearly for the first time, she felt a flush rise to her cheeks and her breath quicken slightly. It was the first time she had so vividly realized just how handsome and captivating this man truly was. If she were being completely honest, she would admit that she had never encountered a man quite so striking before him. And now, this handsome man was carrying her on his back... The thought brought a hint of sweetness to her heart, yet the moment she considered the nature of their relationship, her eyes inevitably dimmed.

Had it not been for this transaction—whatever one might call it—she might never have crossed paths with such an extraordinary man, a true favorite of fortune. Yet, their encounter had been fraught with such awkwardness! Biting her lip as her eyes welled up slightly, she nuzzled against his sturdy shoulder and settled quietly against his back.