The silence was my weapon now.
I went to the bathroom to do my morning routine
It has been three days.
Three days since Dante had slammed me against the floor, the bond was a goddamn whip. I'd decided then: I wouldn't give him another damn thing. No words, no looks, not even a flinch.
But it is too difficult to ignore him ,when he is this hot and handsome
I moved through the penthouse like a ghost. Footsteps silent on the marble, face set in some distant, cold expression.
The place was too big, too beautiful, too perfect. Every damn mirror showed me a stranger.
I ate when food appeared, never even glancing at him.
I read whatever books I could find, turning the pages slow and deliberate.
I stood for hours at the windows, watching the city glitter far below.
Another world. A world I didn't belong to anymore.
I was a ghost in a golden cage.
And Dante… Dante just watched.
He was unnervingly patient.
Didn't order me around, didn't yell, didn't even break the silence with that low, velvet voice of his. He just… lingered.
Hmm, maybe he is laying a trap for me
At the edge of every room, his presence heavy, suffocating. Those golden eyes following my every move.
Which was way worse than talking,I think he is planning something but I don't know what he is planning
That silence was worse than any threat.
[Oh God I really want to hear that sexy voice, shut the fuck up Alistair,he is keeping malice with you ,that is why he is super quiet
A goddamn waiting game.
And I hated how it got under my skin.
No matter how hard I tried to ignore him, that stare felt like a physical weight, pressing into me, hot and seductive.
Sometimes I could feel it even when he wasn't in the same room, crawling up my spine until every muscle was tight as a spring.
I sometimes also feel his hands roaming all over my body,his hands on my ass going down.
But the bond… The bond was the real torture. Even in silence, it pulsed between us. Alive. Insistent.
I could feel his emotions leaking through. Cool satisfaction. Possessive hunger. A weird flicker of curiosity.
And under it all, that maddening calm. Like he knew, no matter how hard I fought, he'd already won.
The bond whispered in my veins, soft and treacherous: He feels you. He knows you. You are seen. You are his to own.
Am not his ,I can never be his to own
I could sense when his mood shifted. When interest sharpened in the air. When his attention brushed against my mind like a touch.
I felt like I was becoming more sensitive and my body changing: my face became more delicate,more pretty like an omega.
And i also noticed that i have became more sensitive to his look,his eyes all of them makes me flustered and flushed pink.
What the fuck is going on with my face, why is Dante affecting me so much in many ways
Sometimes it was just a flicker. Sometimes it burned hot enough to make my throat close.
So I started small. With a book. An old, leather-bound thing I deliberately left open on the wrong table, the spine bent to hell. Then I nudged a chair just enough to ruin the penthouse's perfect symmetry. I left a glass of wine half-finished on a white table, staining the crystal rim crimson.
Stupid little things. Petty rebellions.
But they were mine.
And he noticed.
One evening, I left the chair crooked and sat down with another book, pretending to read.
Dante stood by the balcony doors, the city lights glowing behind him.
Minutes ticked by. The tension stretched, thin as glass.
Then he turned, with a cat his hands. He crossed the room and stopped by the chair. Without looking at me, he reached down.
Long, elegant fingers brushed the backrest, nudging the chair back into place. The movement was slow, almost reverent.
Then he paused.
His palm flattened over the wood where my hand had been just moments ago.
His thumb traced the edge, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the warmth I'd left behind.
My chest tightened. The air felt thick. I forced my eyes back to the page, but the words blurred.
"You're restless," Dante said, his voice quiet, like a thought instead of a sound.
" so I got a gift for you my queen"
He gave me a cat that has black and white stripes with a golden collar
" Why are you giving me a cat?"
" I have seen you been lonely and you
don't want me to be by your side,and I respect that .
So am giving you a cat to be your companion when am not around,and it will be your partner in crime
Did he put a spy camera on the cat's collar, because this is suspicious of him
" I…I don't need it "
" You really need it ,my queen"
The bond shivered in response.
I bit the inside of my cheek, hard enough to taste blood. Refused to look up.
He waited.
The silence was unbearable.
Finally, I snapped the book shut. The sound echoed like a gunshot. I stood, shoulders stiff, fury simmering under the surface.
Without a word, I walked past him, close enough that my shoulder brushed his. The contact was brief. Almost accidental.
But the bond… the bond went ballistic.
A jolt of heat tore through me, twisting low in my gut. My breath caught. My pulse stumbled. It wasn't pain, not exactly. It was… something worse. Something that made my body ache in ways my pride couldn't handle.
I froze.
Dante turned slightly, his breath ghosting against my ear. The scent of smoke and cedar filled my head.
"You can haunt these halls all you want," he murmured, voice soft, lethal.
"But even ghosts are bound to the living.
" And in the same way you are bound to me "
"No. Ghosts linger because they're unfinished. I'm still alive and I choose where I stand.
"Ghosts are trapped by death, so don't confuse your chains with my will."
"We will see about that "
I stumbled back, heart hammering, every instinct at war with itself.
The air between us seemed to shimmer, bending around the tension.
He didn't move closer.
He didn't need to.
That faint smile said everything: patience, possession, inevitability.
And I understood, with sickening clarity, that this war wasn't fought with chains or commands. It was fought in silence. In the proximity. In the unbearable weight of a bond that refused to break.
I wanted to scream, to lash out, to shatter that goddamn smile. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I would hold on, resist, and find a way to break free.
I turned and walked away, my steps measured, deliberate. I wouldn't let him see how much he affected me, how much I was struggling. I would become a fortress impenetrable, unyielding.
I reached my room and closed the door behind me, leaning against it, breath coming in ragged gasps. I shut my eyes, fighting for control, pushing back the feelings threatening to swallow me whole.
I wouldn't break.
I wouldn't surrender.
I would fight until my last breath.
I opened my eyes, my resolve hardening. I was a prisoner, yes but I wasn't defeated.
And one day, I would be free.