“Out loud. I like your voice, and it’s been a long time since someone read me a bedtime story.”
His arms tightened around her as he flipped back to the first page. “On a faraway island, in a long-lost sea, the moon and the sun refused to share…”
He tensed as she arched her back slightly and found a more comfortable position. He probably wished she’d go away. But his next exhalation was deeper, more relaxed, so she didn’t offer to leave.
A muscular chest wasn’t the softest surface she’d ever lounged on, but she could get used to it. Lulled by the whiskey-warmth of his voice, her eyes fluttered shut as the story unfolded behind her eyelids. A star-crossed pair of lovers, a tragic war in the heavens.
His heat seeped through her nightclothes, warming her to the core, and she drifted into the sweetness of half-sleep.
“Did you just melt?” Dante asked in a droll tone.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He coughed a laugh. “Not like that. Just didn’t know a person could go so limp.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a while.”
“Sorry you’re stuck with me, then. I’m new to this whole … cuddling … thing.”
She patted his arm with a perky, “You’re doing fine.”
“You’re desperate, and I’m here, eh?”
“Exactly.” She paused. “Thank you.”
“At your service, Finestra.” He yawned in her ear. “Now, please go to bed.”
Thirty-Two
Per piccola cagione pigliasi il lupo il montone.
With a small excuse, the wolf seizes the sheep.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 16
Alessa had never truly appreciated Renata as a warrior, but when the former Finestra tapped Dante to be her sparring partner for demonstrations, Alessa and the Fontes were spellbound with awe.
Round they went, trading thrusts and parries, both agile and light on their feet, unflinching despite the clang of steel on steel. They were breathtaking.
“Truce!” Renata called out with a laugh. Hair falling loose from its bun, she grinned with exhilaration at having a worthy opponent at last, and Alessa felt a pang of affection and camaraderie for the woman who’d once been a girl facing a Divorando of her own. “Dante, I’m leaving you in charge. They need to work on—well, everything.”
Dante forgot to maintain his grumpy detachment when Josef mastered a knife thrust, and Nina blocked a swing with her bo. He even cracked a smile when Saida pranced around the room in celebration of hitting a bull’s-eye.
“Hey, cut it out, Nina!” Kaleb shouted, his sword drooping like a wilted flower under Nina’s sweetly innocent gaze.
Alessa couldn’t participate in hand-to-hand combat, but she took mental notes while Dante coached Kamaria and Saida. And everyone stopped what they were doing when Dante called on Kaleb to be his sparring partner.
“No weapons,” Dante said. “No boots. No groin, no eyes. I don’t want to kill you today, but I will if you try something dirty.”
Evenly matched in height and weight if not skill, Dante and Kaleb circled each other, looking more relaxed than either had in days. For all his spoiled laziness, Kaleb had paid attention, and he blocked a few of Dante’s maneuvers before Dante turned up the heat.
He hooked Kaleb’s leg, and Kaleb hit the ground, hard.
Alessa leapt out of the way as they rolled across the floor in a sweaty tangle of limbs.
“Get him, get him, get him,” Saida muttered.
Josef nudged Nina with his elbow, looking a bit miffed about how intently she watched the match.
“What?” Nina gave an innocent shrug, her bright eyes fixed on the two men grappling with each other. “It’s educational.”
With a laugh, Kaleb tapped out, and the combatants sprawled on their backs, chests heaving.
“Good fight, man.” Kaleb punched Dante on the shoulder.
The others left, sweaty and laughing, as Alessa and Dante hung back, gathering their discarded training weapons.
Settling a sabre in its mount, she wiped her forehead. “How did you learn sword fighting, hand-to-hand-combat, knife skills, and spear-throwing if you read all day?”
“You can learn a lot from books.” Dante scooped a discarded bo from the floor. “After I ran away, I worked for anyone willing to teach me. I learn fast. It’s a gift, I guess.”
A smile spread across Alessa’s face. “I have an idea.”
Dante stilled. “I don’t like it.”
“You don’t know what it is.”