Page 67 of Ivory Crown
Her eyes fluttered open to look at me, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “Don’t want...don’t want the baby to go hungry...” Her words were mumbled, half lost in a yawn that she tried to stifle against my chest.
I chuckled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair back from her face. “There’s no chance of that happening, beautiful. I brought food home.”
Her eyes seemed to light up at the mention of food, but they were heavy with sleep and quickly fell shut again.
“Jade?” I prodded gently when she didn’t respond.
A soft snore was the only reply I got.
Shaking my head, I pulled the sheets over us and settled down beside her, wrapping my arms protectively around her as she snuggled closer in her sleep.
This wasn’t so bad. For a second, I found myself thinking that maybe I should let her try to escape once again…before I remembered that if she did escape, she would be in grave danger.
And so would our child.
So I stayed there; still but awake as she finally caught up on the sleep and energy I’d stolen from her.
And all I did was watch.
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Jade
Lying in the tangled sheets, I was caught between the remnants of raw pleasure and the aches that came with it.
My wrists throbbed with each pulse, a stark reminder of how the silk ties had dug into my skin. Noon sunlight filtered through the half-closed blinds, casting stripes across Dante’s bare chest as he lay beside me, a silent sentinel to my inner turmoil.
“Are you hungry?” His voice, deep and unexpectedly gentle, pulled me from the haze of my thoughts.
I glanced at the silk ties discarded on the bed, their innocuous appearance belying the intensity of what had transpired. I could still feel the ghost of his touch, the promise of protection laced with the threat of possession. My stomach answered for me, growling its demands despite the tension coiling within me like a tight spring.
Dante’s lips curved into a knowing smile, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he inched closer to me. The sight of him, all hard lines and inked skin, sent a conflicting surge of fear and desire through me.
“Come on, Jade. You slept. The food is getting cold in the kitchen.”
“Maybe later,” I murmured, tracing the edge of the sheet pooled around my waist. His hand, warm and steady, brushed against my arm, his fingers coaxing away the shivers that weren’t entirely from the chill in the air.
“Jade,” he said softly, and I could hear in his voice the unspoken acknowledgment of the life growing inside me, of the precariousness of our situation.
“Alright,” I relented, feeling the weight of his concern. “But only if you’re coming with me.”
His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he nodded and slipped out of bed, his naked form commanding yet vulnerable in the daylight. He extended a hand to help me up, and I took it, allowing him to guide me toward sustenance and away from the thoughts that clawed at my mind.
“Jade?” Dante’s voice was a soft rumble as we lay there, the quiet between us heavy with words left unsaid.
I turned my gaze to meet his, searching the depths of his dark eyes for the truth. “What would have happened if something went wrong? If you hadn’t come back in time?”
He tensed, the subtle shift in his body betraying his cool exterior. “There was no chance of that,” he said firmly. “I had eyes on you every second. You were never in danger.”
“Hard to believe,” I whispered, my voice tinged with skepticism. “I’m pregnant. You left me tied up and…”
Dante reached out, his thumb caressing my cheek with unexpected tenderness. “I would never hurt you, Jade. You have to know that.”
I held his gaze, searching for any sign of deceit. But all I saw was sincerity, and something else—an emotion I couldn’t quite name. “Okay, I believe you,” I said finally, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
His touch lingered on my skin, soothing and possessive all at once, and I leaned into it, craving the comfort it provided.
Dante’s fingers traced the line of my jaw, drawing a path down to where my pulse throbbed in the hollow of my throat. The air between us was charged with a tension that spoke of things left unspoken—promises and threats woven into the very fabric of our existence.
“But tell me the truth…did you not enjoy it?” His voice held an edge, rough like gravel. “The edging, I mean.” His hand paused at the nape of my neck, playing with a strand of my hair that had escaped its confines.