Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 461: Belong To Me

The house dimmed the lights around me like it knew what was coming. The temperature dropped just slightly, like the air itself was holding its breath. After saying goodbye to Tink and Snowflake, Salvatore picked me up, cradling me like a princess, and carried me into the house and up the stairs.

I sat on the oversized bed, the plush blanket soft under my fingers, and let my gaze flicker between the two men standing across the room. I had no idea where the others were; I couldn’t even hear them in this moment over the pounding of my heart, and for a second, I didn’t care.

Instead, my entire body was focused on Salvatore and Dante as they looked at me like I was the last banana-flavored lollypop.

Salvatore had his shirt half unbuttoned; the sleeves rolled to the elbows. He looked like he always did, his all black ensemble helping him fade into the background, but for once, it wasn’t working. My eyes were drawn to his exposed flesh like it was a new fetish that I hadn’t known I had until now.

My eyes fell on a new tattoo on the inside of his wrist, a crown with horns and a yellow lollypop. "In case I do something stupid like Luca and lose my memories," shrugged Salvatore when he saw where I was looking. "This way, I always know who I belong to."

I had no idea when he got the tattoo, but the particulars didn’t really matter to my clouded brain. He had marked me on his skin. Branded himself to me in a way that is so obvious, there is no question.

And I loved it.

To the side, Dante cleared his throat, clearly not liking the fact that my attention wasn’t on him. With a smirk, I gave in to what I wanted and turned to look at the man.

He was truly a work of art, the likes of which no human could ever hope to capture. Dark eyes, a darker soul. A predator comprised of a stillness that he wore like a second skin.

Of all the Sins, Dante was the one I understood the least.

He never flirted. Never played. Never demanded attention. He let everyone else claim what they needed from me, and never so much as made a peep when I overlooked him in favor of another.

And yet, he was the one I felt the most when he was near. He was my rock, my strength. When I was weak, I knew I could depend on him just as much as I depended on Daddy and Big Brother.

Salvatore gave me a small smile as he walked to the bed. "We have a surprise for you," he said softly, brushing his thumb across my jaw. His eyes searched mine, waiting to see what my reaction would be to his words.

However, his touch ignited something that I hadn’t felt in a while. Not since the last time he touched me like this.

I raised a brow. "Am I going to like I?" I purred, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was going to.

"We’d like to think so," he said. "Dante wanted you to himself, and as the first of us, we all agreed. However, I was worried about your feelings, what was going on in your head. So, I just figured it might be easier on you if I stayed. A familiar touch, in case things get... intense."

From anyone else, it would’ve sounded like pity.

From Salvatore, it felt like protection.

I nodded once.

He didn’t climb into the bed—just sat beside it, hand resting against my ankle like a grounding wire.

Dante still hadn’t moved from his place across the room.

"Are you coming to bed?" I asked, "Or are you just going to glare at me until the furniture bursts into flames?"

He stepped forward. Slow. Measured. Every motion deliberate. "You need soft," he murmured, his words carrying a hidden meaning that I didn’t understand. "You deserve soft. I just don’t know if I can give you what you need and deserve."

"You don’t get to make that decision," I smiled at him. I didn’t want to pressure him into anything, but at the same time, the wall between us had to go. "I want you. Exactly as you are."

His pride shimmered around him like heat waves. Not magic. Not glamour. Just... him.

He didn’t kneel. He didn’t beg.

He sat beside me, knees brushing mine.

And stared.

It wasn’t a stare that asked for permission. It was a stare that dared me to blink.

"You’ve had every man in this house wrapped around your little finger," he murmured, his voice like midnight silk as he caressed the digit. "But you don’t play those games with me."

"I could," I said, leaning in. "But you’d see through it. That makes it boring."

His lips twitched. Not quite a smile.

I reached up and ran my fingers down the side of his neck. His pulse beat fast.

"You want to own me?" I asked.

"No," he whispered. "I want you to admit that you already belong to me."

The words hit something low and molten inside me.

Before I could reply, he kissed me.

Not a gentle kiss.

A claiming kiss.

His hand threaded into my hair, tilting my head exactly how he wanted it. His mouth was fire, all pressure and purpose, no hesitation.

And I kissed him back, because hellfire recognizes its own.

Salvatore didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t need to.

His presence at my side reminded me that I wasn’t trapped. That this wasn’t control—it was choice, my choice. And the moment I needed it to stop, he would make sure that happened.

I broke the kiss with a gasp, grabbing Dante’s shirt to steady myself.

"I don’t belong to anyone," I murmured.

His forehead pressed to mine. "Then why are you shaking?"

Because I wanted him. Because I feared him. Because part of me knew that if I ever did belong to someone... it would be him.

Salvatore stroked his hand down my calf. "Breathe, baby. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

I did.

And when I reached for Dante again, it was with both hands.