“It’s just the beginning. We have opened Pandora’s box. These nightmares will keep coming to light, and I want to build something better for our children. Stand with me, yeah?”
“You don’t even have to ask, Dante,” Amara told him softly. “I’ll always stand with you.”
“I know you keep wondering what your role will be in this new order we have,” Dante mused, looking at the boys. “You are the healer, Amara. You are the lighthouse guiding these lost souls to the shore. They need someone to guide them, someone who’s emotionally intelligent, strong enough to understand trauma and survival and still be light. That’s you.”
He turned his neck, piercing her with his dark eyes, his voice dripping with conviction. “We’ll find more children, more young boys and girls, in different conditions. We don’t know how many. They’ll need to be rehabilitated. They’ll need help – physically, which I can arrange, but also mentally, which is your forte. We can give them a chance at life, Amara. We can leave a legacy in this godforsaken place. So, will you play with me, my queen?”
Amara looked at the innocent lives marred with this blip of darkness and felt her heart clench. She knew how much it took out of the soul to simply survive against the odds. She knew pain, and loss, and sheer force of will. And she knew she wouldn’t be standing there without the help she’d had. There was no other option for her.
Turning her gaze back to the man she not only loved but felt truly proud to call hers right that second, she gave him her answer. “Yes, I will, my king.”
Let the games begin.
It was late by the time the paramedics and the police wrapped up. Amara stayed behind as the two guys from social services showed up, helping them navigate the fate of the two kids at the hospital, ensuring they were also prescribed some form of counseling for their experience.
She had started to ask the same for the kid who’d been sitting with Tristan when Morana had given her a subtle shake of her head. Keeping that down for the time, Amara had walked with the guys as they took the other boys to meet with their guardians. By the time everyone was gone, there was only her, Dante, Tristan, Morana, and that kid left in the area.
Amara walked over to Dante’s side as he sat down on the steps, watching her. He spread his legs and pulled her between them, pushing his face into her stomach, murmuring words in a tone so low she couldn’t hear. She sifted her fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of the strands, feeling the warmth of his breaths against her tummy, and just held him as he held her, taking strength from her presence.
He tugged on her hips until she sat down on his lap, and snuggled his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Amara felt her heart skip a beat, as it always did with him, and kept him close, her eyes lingering on the child who fell asleep with his head on Tristan’s lap. She saw him look at Morana, saw them have a silent conversation, and saw Morana bend down, giving him a small kiss on the lips. It still awed Amara some days, the way Tristan allowed Morana so close into his space. He scooped up the kid in his arms and stood, the movement taking the attention of the man holding her.
Dante looked to the side at them while keeping Amara tight by his side. “You guys heading back?”
“Yes,” Morana responded, taking her car keys out of her pockets. “Little Xander here is knocked out and Tristan wants to talk to him some more. We figured we’ll take him with us, and figure stuff out later.”
Dante gave her a nod, exchanging a look with Tristan. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Tristan nodded, carrying the boy, Xander, in his arms to the car Morana had driven. He lay Xander in the backseat, got in the passenger’s side while Morana got behind the wheel, and with a wave at them, drove out.
“How much do you bet they’ll keep the kid?” Dante’s voice had her looking down, his hand splaying over her stomach possessively.
Amara shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”
Dante gave her a little smile, and before she could take a breath, stood up with her in his arms, making her squeal lowly and grab his shoulders. Heart racing, she watched as he deposited her in the Rover, jogging around to the driver’s side, and got in, pulling out of the eerie place.
“This place was so creepy,” Amara muttered, watching it get smaller in the rear-view mirror. “How did the Morana’s airport guy even know about this?”
Dante contemplated for a moment, driving them out of the woods and onto the dirt road cutting through the open fields. “He’s the Shadowman.”
Amara turned to look at him, seeing the full moonlight pouring in through the windshield, casting a soft, romantic glow over his features. She thought about what he’d said, interposing it with what she knew, and agreed. “It makes sense. That’s why she never saw him.”
The car jostled as Dante swerved the wheel, turning them back onto the highway. “He was there tonight.”
Her eyebrows went up to her forehead. “You saw him?”
“No,” he shook his head. “But he was there. One of the guys who escaped was found in the woods by our men, tied to a tree, a message taped to his chest.”
“What message?”
Dante glanced at her. “It said ‘good job’. He wanted us to find that place. He practically spoon-fed us this.”
“He’s playing with you guys,” Amara inferred, turning the heating up as a chill went down her spine. “Why?”
Dante stayed silent. They passed a few miles in silence before Dante spoke up again. “Alpha is my half-brother.”
That made Amara turn sharply towards him. Dante told her about his visit to Alpha’s compound, about the information he had discovered, about the tragedies his father had made of people’s lives. He told her everything, including not knowing if he entirely trusted the man or not. They were getting closer to the city, the roads still dark and empty, as the car flew by.
“He was nice to me,” Amara reminded him.
“He wanted to fuck you,” Dante amended, his jaw clenching.
Amara felt a laugh escape her. “That would’ve been funny though, what with you being brothers. I’d feel scandalous.”
Before her last word was out, Dante pulled to the shoulder of the road, turning the vehicle off. He undid her seat belt, pushed his seat back, and pulled her over him, sending her heart careening through her chest.
“Say that again,” he grit out.
Amara felt herself smile as she settled over him, her thighs straddling his hips, putting her hands over his chest. “You’re being ridiculous.”
One of his hands gripped her full breast, the other going to her ass in a hold that was nothing short of territorial. In the moonlight, his dark eyes gleamed like uncut obsidian, born of flames, cooled in winds. His masculine scent, that cologne she had loved since she first smelled it, permeated the closed confines of the car. He took over her senses – sight, sound, smell, touch – and she reveled in it, her heart pounding but desire coiling in her belly in known anticipation. This wasn’t like it had been in the beginning. Their desire then had been a wildfire – unknown, unexpected, untamed. No, now it was a kindling, a bonfire in the middle of a snowy desert, melting the frost, warming the bones, lighting the dark. They had been together a hundred times before and they would be together a hundred times more. But their need for each other had evolved – from being lovers learning each other, they had become memories on each other’s skin, every inch of her body knowing every inch of hers.