Dante stopped walking and looked at her, his expression unreadable. "No trouble at all," he said quietly. Then, without saying anything more, he stepped closer and pulled her into a brief, firm hug.
Alina froze at first, startled, but the warmth of his coat and the calm rhythm of his breath made something inside her soften. She didn't think much in that moment; she simply stood there, letting the comfort sink in.
But Dante's expression changed slightly as he held her. His eyes darkened, a shadow of jealousy flickering across them as a memory passed through his mind—an image he had once seen of Alina in another man's arms. He didn't like it. Not one bit.
He drew in a slow breath, his jaw tightening before he relaxed again, pressing his hand lightly against her back. She smells different now, he thought, calmer, softer. A faint, possessive smile touched his lips. Her scent's mine again.
