CHAPTER 37 — Auri's POV — Waking Up in His Arms
The first thing Auri felt was warmth.
A steady, solid warmth pressed against her back, wrapping around her like a quiet shield. Her cheek rested on something firm—an arm, a chest, she wasn't sure—and for a moment, she didn't move.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Then a slow breath tickled the top of her head, and she froze.
She recognized that breath.
That scent.
That presence.
Dante.
Her eyes flew open.
She was in her own bed, in her apartment, sunlight slipping through the curtains… and Dante Lorenzo, the man who made her heart spin and her mind chaotic, was sleeping right behind her. Close enough that she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her back.
Close enough that she knew she hadn't imagined last night.
Her cheeks warmed.
She slowly lifted her head, turning slightly. Dante was asleep on his side, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other draped around her waist protectively. His hair fell loosely over his forehead, softer than usual. His jaw was relaxed, his lips not in their usual tight, unreadable line.
He looked… peaceful.
Human.
Almost vulnerable.
It made something inside her chest ache in a way she didn't know how to handle.
She swallowed and shifted very gently, not wanting to wake him—but the moment she moved, Dante's arm tightened around her waist instinctively, pulling her closer.
A soft gasp slipped from her lips.
His body molded against hers like it belonged there.
"Dante…" she whispered, voice barely audible.
He didn't wake.
He just held her tighter.
Auri's heart pounded so hard she thought he might feel it. Heat spread from her chest all the way to her fingertips. She should pull away. She should create distance. She should be careful with her heart.
But she didn't move.
Instead, she let herself feel it for a moment—the safety, the warmth, the way he clung to her even in sleep as if afraid she'd disappear.
She turned her head slightly, studying him more closely. Without all the tension and the harsh edges, he looked almost… gentle.
She shouldn't love this.
She shouldn't love him like this.
But she did.
She knew she did.
And that terrified her.
Because she didn't know what Dante felt.
He never said the words she needed.
He wanted her—yes.
He desired her—yes.
But love?
She didn't know.
And if she gave him her heart, only to lose him…
Auri closed her eyes, steadying her breathing.
She couldn't let herself fall deeper unless Dante was honest about what she meant to him. She couldn't keep breaking every time he grew jealous or furious or cold.
Her hand rested on the side of his arm loosely draped around her. She could feel the strength of him, the heat of him, the way his fingers were almost intertwined with hers even in sleep.
He cared.
She felt it in everything he did.
But caring wasn't always enough.
Her chest tightened.
She slowly, very slowly, eased his arm away—just enough for her to slip out of his embrace. She sat up, heartbeat wild, brushing hair away from her face.
When her feet touched the floor, she felt Dante shift behind her.
She froze.
"...Auri?" His voice was thick with sleep, deep and rough in the early morning light.
She turned slightly, finding him blinking awake, eyes still soft from sleep—but the second he realized she wasn't in his arms, confusion flashed across his face.
Then something else.
Something raw.
"You're up," he murmured, sitting up on the bed, hair disheveled, shirt slightly wrinkled. She'd never seen him look so unguarded.
"I—I need to get ready," she said softly, looking away.
Dante watched her carefully, as if he could see every thought running through her head.
"Come back," he said quietly. Not commanding. Not demanding. Just… asking.
Her breath hitched.
She shook her head. "I can't."
Something in his expression shifted—subtle, but deep. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Auri, last night—"
"I know," she interrupted quickly, hugging her arms around herself. "But we can't pretend it fixed everything."
Silence washed over them—gentle but heavy.
Dante looked at her the way someone looked at something they didn't want to lose. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stood before he could.
"I need time," she whispered. "To breathe. To think. To figure out what I want… and what you really want from me."
She didn't say more.
She couldn't.
She turned toward the bathroom, but she felt his eyes on her the entire way—burning, wanting, confused, hurting.
She closed the door behind her, leaning against it, heart pounding as if it wanted to escape her chest.
She loved him.
She knew that now.
But until Dante let himself see what he really felt…
she couldn't let herself fall completely.
Not yet.