The Emperor (Dark Verse Book 3)

by RuNyx

  He bent to kiss them, before straightening, smearing the clay in his hand over them.

  “Dante,” she whispered, a tremor going down her spine, the vibration right under his fingers, and he continued to spread the clay all over, watching the layers dry, the scars immortalized in them.

  Scooping more clay, he pressed up against her back, feeling the wetness smear over his chest, and spread his fingers over her stomach, ensconcing her bump generously with the argil, before moving it back up over her breasts. He plucked at her nipples, kissing the side of her neck, and felt her arch in his hands, her ass pushing into his hard cock. He pushed back, nestling himself between her cheeks over layers of their clothing, and her breathing stuttered.

  His Amara was a breather. She moaned occasionally, screamed rarely because of her damaged vocal cords, and spoke sometimes, demanding his attention in the middle of sex. But she breathed – soft, slow, hard, fast, short, long, and so on. Dante had learned her breaths to learn her responses and anticipate her needs. He had spent years tracking the changes in them, understanding what each variation meant. He had memorized her like his favorite song.

  That stutter in her breath meant she was getting close to coming.

  Dante let go of her nipples and began circling his wet fingers around them, close but not close enough. “Can you come just like this, dirty girl?” he whispered into her neck, pressing his cock into her ass as she stood on her toes.

  “Please,” she begged softly, her breasts heaving in his palms, her head falling back over his shoulder, her hands coming to wrap around his neck, thrusting her heavy tits higher.

  Dante sucked on her neck, taking both handfuls of her stunning breasts and squeezing them, before plucking her nipples again, extending them out, the clay on her drying over her skin, definitely adding to the sensation.

  “Oh god, Dante,” she mewled, her lips quivering as he continued his ministrations, humping her ass, pinching and pulling her nipples, and sucking her neck.

  Her breath got shorter and shorter, her panting loud in the silent room surrounded by his sculptures, and Dante knew she was close. Opening his mouth, he nipped at the side of her neck, before biting down on her skin, hard enough to give her a hickey, and pinching her nipples hard.

  She exploded, her mouth opening in a silent scream as her legs gave out, her weight supported by his hands on her breasts.

  That was the first time she’d come just from stimulation above the waist and Dante felt good. There was nothing that fulfilled him more than giving this woman pleasure. It was when he took her to the stars that he felt most powerful, his own need secondary to taking her there, through any means necessary. Though nothing turned him on more than eating her pussy.

  He turned her to face him and watched as she came back to herself – a vision of a woman smeared in his clay and her pleasure, naked, open, vulnerable, trusting, with heavy-lidded eyes and heaving breasts and divine beauty and carrying his child – and realized what muses were made of.

  He cupped her face in his hands, overcome with the riot of emotions she inspired in him. “You’re my magnum opus, Amara,” he told her, pressing his forehead against hers, a move that always brought the turmoil in him to a standstill. “And I am your humble servant.”

  “No,” she whispered, her words falling against his lips. “You are my emperor.”

  After making love in the shower cleaning up, Amara had accompanied him to his study, handing Lulu to him since she couldn’t lift her anymore. The fucking cat loved to climb on his shoulder and if he stroked her, she purred right against him.

  He watched Amara settle on one of the couches, taking Lulu in her arms, and begin talking as he walked around the desk, opening his suit jacket.

  “So, I looked at the list of buildings you gave me,” she told him, stroking the cat, dressed in one of her flowy dresses that still fit, a choker around her neck hiding her scar. She wore that or a scarf anytime she had to leave the compound.

  “And?” Dante asked, taking out his reading glasses from the top drawer, looking down at the sheet she had handed him with annotations in her curvy, neat handwriting.

  “You wear glasses? How have I never seen you in glasses before?”

  Dante looked up at her question, looking at her surprised face over the frames. “Just for reading,” he clarified. “You’ve probably never seen me read. I prefer listening to books, and any reading I do for reports and shit is at night here.”

  “You mean when you’re here at night working, you wear those sexy glasses?” she asked.

  Dante felt his lips turn up. “I wouldn’t call them sexy, but yes.”

  “Hmm,” she trailed off, petting the cat. “Anyways, Vin and I went to each of the sites and looked around,” she leaned into a cushion, pulling her feet under her. “Only two of those buildings have enough space and seclusion that we’ll need for the project. They’re also both close to each other – about ten minutes walking – which I think could be a good idea for shared resources.”

  Dante nodded, reading her notes on the two properties she was talking about. She was thorough in her detailing of the pros and cons of both locations, adding the proximity to the compound as a pro. “What will you need in terms of manpower?” he asked her, looking up from the sheet.

  “Depending on how many kids we’re talking about.”

  Dante mulled for a second. “Give me an estimate.”

  Amara contemplated for a second. “I’d say one trainer and one counselor per five kids, one supervisor per twenty kids. That should allow each adult to give each child the attention they need without hampering their reserves. And security, of course, which you’ll have a better idea about.”

  Dante nodded, looking down at the sheets again. “And can you arrange the trainers and counselors on our payroll?”

  Amara nodded. “I should be able to. I have contacts in both the academia and training levels. I’ll make the calls and interview each one of them myself. Vin can vet them. In case I can’t, I’ll let you know. It should take about a month or two to start.”

  His phone ringing interrupted them. He looked down, to see he had a meeting with one of his informers. Getting up from the seat, he pocketed his phone and buttoned his jacket, slicking his hair back from his face, and walked over to where she and the cat sat.

  Placing a hand over the back of the couch, he bent down to see her raise her mouth up, ready to receive his kiss.

  “You can handle it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And your practice?”

  “I’ll do sessions with those who need it the most.”

  “And your therapy?”

  “I called Dr. Das for a monthly visit.”

  “And our wedding?”

  “Let’s set a date, yeah?”

  “Good.”

  He gave her a kiss, pressed their foreheads together, and walked out to run the front of his empire, leaving her to take care of the back.

  The date for the wedding was set three months away in spring, although she’d be in her eighth month of pregnancy by then. Initially, Dante hadn’t wanted to wait that long, but she had reminded him that their wedding wasn’t just their union, it was a statement in the underworld, and it needed to be a strong one. Dante Maroni marrying a housekeeper’s daughter for love – the same girl who had been raped and tortured at fifteen – instead of a virginal beauty of a fellow family for power and connection was a big deal. People had to be invited, charades had to be put up, games of power had to be played.

  Dante had agreed, and the next morning, she had connected with Morana and a wedding planner with her mother, getting the ball rolling. Her mother, who now lived in Dante’s old house and had taken to tailoring baby clothes, had been overjoyed.

  Amara swiped red lipstick over her mouth.

  “You look like a goddess, Mrs. Maroni-to-be,” her husband-to-be said from behind her, sending a thrill down her spine.

  She gave him a once over, admiring him in his debonai
r black tux as he covered his suspenders with his jackets, the attire making him appear larger. She matched him, with a glittery sleeveless black Grecian dress, with straps that widened to cover her breasts and bunching under, before falling straight to her feet in layers, effectively hiding her growing belly, two slits on both sides till her thighs giving little peeks of her legs and tall heels as she moved. Hair loose and naturally wavy, she wore a plain gold choker on her neck, and gold bracelets on her wrists, the jewelry both hiding her scars and complimenting her warm-toned skin.

  She did look good.

  “It’s Dr. Maroni-to-be,” she corrected him, her low voice sounding husky even to her own ears.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he locked their gazes in the mirror, his hand holding hers as he slid something on her finger.

  Damn, that was smooth.

  Amara lifted her left hand, seeing the beautiful ring glint in the light. It was a gorgeous oval emerald, surrounded by a crown of diamonds, set in a beautiful platinum band.

  Dante pressed a kiss to her lobe, showering her with affection. “There’s an engraving on the inside that says ‘my queen’, so you always remember, no matter where you are or where I am, you’re the beat to my heart.”

  Amara felt her eyes water and blinked rapidly since her mascara was not waterproof. “And your ring?”

  He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, his eyes locked with hers, showing her a plain platinum band. “Matches. But I already know I’m your king.”

  “And a very modest one too.”

  He flashed a grin. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded, taking the arm he offered her, grateful for it since wearing heels while pregnant was a different experience altogether.

  It was a huge party in the mansion to celebrate Dante’s official takeover of the Tenebrae Outfit. They hadn’t wanted to do an engagement party since this was her official introduction into their world, and anyone who saw her on his arms with that giant ring would draw their meanings.

  Over the last few days, Dante and his men had spent their time keeping and interrogating the man they’d caught at the creepy house and the guy the Shadowman had left pinned to the tree. One of them had bitten on a cyanide pill in his mouth and died. They stopped the other and took the capsule in his teeth. After weeks of refusing to crack, he finally confessed to his crimes.

  Anyone working for the Syndicate knew they could never speak about it or hell would rain on them, their loved ones, anyone they remotely cared about. That was the reason most workers simply chose to end their lives before talking.

  The guy had told them how the house had been a holding point for the kids between transport – a place where they stayed for a few days before handing the kids to the higher-ups in the organization. These were the low-level operators with one contact at mid-level who guided them on where to pick up the kids and where to drop them. That mid-level contact wasn’t a name, just a phone number, and Morana had tracked it down to ping within the city limits.

  Things were confusing and messy and made no sense – her abduction, MrX, Shadowman, the kids, Dante’s mother. There were too many questions and no answers.

  Walking down the stairs, she and Dante entered the huge hall that was usually used for hosting parties, her grip tightening on Dante’s bicep as all eyes swiveled to them in the room, some friendly, some hostile, most guarded. There was a part of her that still found it surreal, that she would attend a party in the same halls where she’d once served. But that was the past. Straightening her spine, Amara stood tall beside her husband-to-be, proud of the woman she had become and the man he had grown into, and stepped in.

  “Dante,” Leo Mancini headed towards them, his eyes slightly shifty. “Can we talk in private for a moment?”

  Amara saw Dante open his mouth before someone else from the Outfit demanded his attention, and Leo walked away to another side of the room.

  Dante made conversation for a while then walked to the side, towards a man Amara recognized as the right-hand man of Maroni, and started to chat, his manner calm, cool, composed. Dante Maroni, the charmer, was taking the floor, and she doubted anyone could resist him when he got like that. She stayed by his side as he’d asked her to, looking around the room, her eyes coming to a halt on her half-sister Nerea.

  Amara watched the older woman, dressed in black pants and sweater, and for the first time, she wondered about her. Nerea had come into the fold immediately after her abduction and Amara had been too distracted with her healing to pay her any mind. She had accepted the friendly hand the other woman had extended to her, and watching her now, she wondered if it had been a friendly hand at all. Over the years though, Nerea had done nothing but been good to Amara, checking in on her, giving her advice if she needed it, or even arranging her fake passport.

  She wondered about her father. After he left her and her mother, they had never tried to contact him again, and Amara wondered if she should now. She saw Nerea catch her eye and give her a warm, genuine smile, and felt slightly guilty for feeling suspicious of her.

  Giving her a little nod, they continued to circle the room, before the music came on and Dante turned to her.

  “May I have this dance, my queen?”

  Amara grinned up at him, taking his hand as he led her to the center of the floor, tugging her close. Once upon a time, his closeness to her had been reckless of him. Now, it was flaunting. He was flaunting her, claiming her, out in the open, and it felt glorious.

  Pressing her face against his shoulder, he led her through the song, and if she closed her eyes, it transported her back to a decade ago in his studio, just the two of them, young, wild, unsure.

  They had come so far.

  One of his men cut through the moment, calling Dante’s attention and Amara turned to let him go when the scent of raw tobacco hit her nose.

  ‘What do you know about the Syndicate?’

  Taking in a deep breath just made it worse. Amara closed her eyes, trying to push out the memories assaulting her from her mind, red stars behind her eyes as her lungs began to ice. Remembering the last time she’d had a panic attack, tied to a chair and losing her baby, Amara tried to get a hold of herself, wondering if this would ever end. She couldn’t get anxious now, not when she was already high-risk. It was fine. She was safe.

  Her fingers must have trembled because Dante paused in his conversation, turning to look at her, his dark eyes taking her measure within seconds.

  “You need air?” he asked in a low tone, low enough that nobody else could hear. She gave him a nod, grateful that he knew her the way he did.

  Alerting Vin, he put pressure on the small of her back, urging her to take a walk outside while he circled the party. Amara looked to see her friend, and now her head of security, waiting for her by the side door. He held the door open for her and Amara gave him a smile, walking out on her heels on short, sure steps.

  The door closed behind her. “You okay?” he asked, leading her down a cemented path gilded with vines on the sides, ending a few feet away in a short gazebo.

  Amara gulped in the fresh air on the hill, the scents of night blooms permeating the air, and felt her racing heart begin to calm. She took a seat on the marble bench and looked up at the stars, feeling Vin standing guard by the entrance.

  The sound of footsteps had her leaning to the side to see Leo Mancini striding down the gazebo towards her, his eyes shifty, looking around to see if anyone was watching him. There were hardly any guards patrolling this side of the compound. Amara straightened as Vin blocked him.

  “Move aside, boy,” Leo spit out. “I have to talk to her.”

  Vin turned to look at her, asking silently if she wanted the man to be sent away. Amara didn’t want to be alone with him, but she was curious as to why he sought her out. She gave Vin a slight nod, and he let the older man pass, putting his hand on the gun on his hip in case Leo did something he didn’t like. Amara doubted he would, so close to Dante.

  “Amara,” Leo took a seat on the
marble bench opposite hers, the relation to the Maroni gene evident in his jawline and distinguished looks. He looked around, hunching down a bit, and spoke. “Someone is going to kill me tonight.”

  Amara raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How do you know that?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I need to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  “Ten years ago, you eavesdropped on a conversation you shouldn’t have,” he began, and Amara felt her heart begin to pound, her palms get clammy. She gave a look to Vin, who looked back at her, his body alert.

  “Yes,” Amara swallowed, remembering the exact conversation. “I was abducted because of that, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes,” the man nodded. “But Lorenzo or I didn’t give the order. We’d been working as affiliate partners with the Syndicate back then. Transporting…packages.”

  Amara felt bile rise in her throat. “But you worked as more before, didn’t you? When the Alliance ended?”

  Leo hesitated. “Lorenzo tried the shipment of one batch, but it ended in a fiasco with the Reaper and Gabriel’s kids getting mixed up. The Syndicate told Lorenzo to just do damage control and stick to transport. Listen to me. I don’t have time and I can’t talk to Dante with the party going on. You’re my only hope.”

  Amara didn’t understand him. “Hope for what?”

  “Redemption.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’ve done terrible things. Terrible. With my hands but also with my silence. You coming to the compound again with Dante has made some people high up to take notice. I will be killed tonight and before I go, I want to confess. And Dante needs to know.”

  “Tell me.”

  Leo wiped his hand over his face, looking much older than his years. “The Syndicate is lethal about its privacy. Anyone who worked with them knew that speaking about it meant certain death. We had a contact, a handler, at the Syndicate during the Alliance when the first shipment was being planned.” Amara felt ants crawling up her skin at the casual way he referred to innocent children as ‘shipment’. She stayed silent, letting him continue. “We had a meeting with him to discuss further action. It was later that I discovered that Talia, Dante’s mother, had overheard the meeting.”