Page 60 of Violet Legacy

Rieka’s stomach clenched as he continued to rub at her clit. Her breathing became more erratic. He focused his attention on her as she lifted her body off the bed, trembling with need and desire as she clawed the sheets. Sheer perspiration covered her body. She looked like a goddess ready to be devoured.

“Please.” She rocked against him, again. The move was his undoing.

He felt her orgasm; eyes closed, she wrapped herself around him. Her release triggered something in him as the remainder of his control left him.

He grunted as the orgasm unfurled within him as he continued to thrust. Everything left his mind, and all he could think about was how Rieka moved to meet his every move, demanding more. Her nails dug into his back, urging him to continue. Her small gasps drove him onward. He wanted to draw back, regain some of his control, but he was lost to the sensations. His body tensed as Rieka arched her spine, squeezing him tight as she rode her orgasm. Whimpers of desire escaped her lips.

“Fuck. Rieka.”

It was too much. Dante let instinct take over as he followed Rieka over the edge. He collapsed on top of Rieka. He rolled, moving Rieka with him until she was on top of him.

Rieka trailed her hands down his arms; her lips swollen from his kisses. Her hair had escaped its braid. He fought the urge to run his fingers through the loose curls. She sighed, closing her eyes.

Dante kissed her eyelids, moving so he could tuck her body against his. Rieka wrapped herself around him, her legs draped across him. In the quiet, he could focus on her breathing and the beating of her heart.

Chapter 37

ThespotnexttoDante was empty.

He had felt Rieka move. It had been slow and deliberate—she hadn’t wanted him to notice.

It didn’t take long to find her. She stood next to the balcony, leaning against the door with her arms wrapped around her. The morning sun cast her in a shimmering glow, her neon-green strands almost fluorescent. His white shirt was too big for Rieka. It reached her mid thighs, but he could get used to Rieka wearing his clothes.

It had been centuries since he had cared about anyone outside of his inner circle, his real family. There was something different about Rieka, about how she made him feel. She could see through the layers and wanted to know him. Not for his wealth or power. Although, he wasn’t quite sure if it was because of his book collection or ability to get access to priceless artifacts.

It had taken him only a day to realize the streak of goodness he had sensed in Rieka wasn’t a weakness. Still, that goodness had been forged in a world that hadn’t always been kind to her. It was the mark of a person who still had hope for the world, despite everything she had been through. Dante had never wanted to save the world, but for Rieka, he was tempted to. Or at least remake the world into a place where she felt safe and wanted. Dante needed to find a way for Rieka to trust him and to find the tomb. It petrified a part of him to know how much he wanted Rieka. Body, heart, and soul.

He slid out of the bed, never taking his gaze from Rieka as he pulled up his pants. He caught sight of the dark red scratches on his back in the nearby mirror; the scratches were already fading. A part of him was disappointed. He would proudly wear the marks of Rieka.

Rieka’s heart rate continued to spike as her breathing grew shallower. He moved silently, crossing the room to stand by her side.

“Breathe. Long and slow,” Dante murmured. His hand pressed to the small of her back as he gently caressed her.

“You still need a bell,” Rieka said, her face scrunching up as she followed his instructions. “Tell me something to distract me.”

“You are the first person to sleep in my bed.”

Rieka sputtered as she blushed furiously. “I meant interesting. Not make me choke on air and suspend disbelief.”

Dante shrugged. He had distracted Rieka, and he was not lying. His previous lovers had been temporary, and he had never wanted them to share his bed or to wake up to their scent all over his belongings. “It is the truth.”

Rieka blinked at him slowly, her eyes almost entirely red; any hint of gold seemed to have disappeared. The change in color signified high emotion. When she had orgasmed, her eyes had turned completely red.

“Why would she lie to me? She never talked about her family. Said they had abandoned her, but she knew. She warned me to stay away from the Houses.” Rieka looked up. “Specifically, yours. Not that I’m good at listening. Clearly.” Rieka waved down at her attire.

“She sounds like she loved you dearly.” Dante wanted to crush her against him, but it wasn’t what she needed. Rieka’s mother had done everything she could to protect her. There were so many questions he wanted to ask Rieka. He believed in many things. Power. Wealth. Ghosts were not one of them.

“I still miss her. It’s been more than a decade, and there is so much I still don’t know. Or ever will.” Rieka tugged at a strand of hair before placing it behind her ear. “How did you deal with your father’s death?”

Dante blinked; a question he had never asked himself. Atlanteans’ view of life and death was so very different from humans’. Near immortality skewed how they viewed life. Despite this, Talal had died millennia before his time. He had never been close to his mother, but to his father—he had hoped they would build a relationship that would have filled the gap he had felt growing up. Even Aldora had never bridged that gap. “The pain dulls over the years. But it also means that you begin to forget the small moments. The laughter. The way their eyes changed with their emotions, from sadness to laughter. No matter how much you promise you will remember, eventually you are only left with fragments. Until all that is left is a ghost of a memory.” Dante reached out to touch Rieka’s face as he pulled her closer. “It makes you realize that remembering what they looked like isn’t important. It is about remembering how they made you feel. That is what lasts for a lifetime.”

Rieka turned and wrapped her arms around him. He had always disliked hugs or any form of touch, but with Rieka, he was growing to crave it.

“Thank you.” She lifted her head and stared at him. “Why are you really looking for the tomb?”

Dante sighed. The obsession had been easy to build. The need to protect his father’s reputation had evolved, first from prideful passion then to future-proofing their family legacy. At the center of it all was the tomb. Finding it would cement his legacy within Atlantean history. But beneath that was a growing hunger that demanded he be the one to find the tomb—evidence that he was worthy of his position and heritage. “My father spent a lifetime looking for it. He sacrificed everything searching for it. As a child, I despised hearing the murmurs that he was half mad. If I found the tomb, I could restore his reputation.” Dante chuckled darkly. “Even if he thought protecting his own reputation was a waste of time.”

“You don’t want the treasure? Add it to your never-ending bank account?” Rieka scrunched her nose and a half-smile tugged at her lips.

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