The victory against the rebels resounded throughout the camp. Dante was hailed as the undefeated general, and Aria, the mysterious advisor, also earned great respect from the soldiers. She had proven her worth not only through her medical skills but also through her intellect and courage on the battlefield. But that very event also opened a new chapter in the complex relationship between her and Dante.
That night, after everything had settled, Aria returned to the medical tent. She was exhausted but her mind was filled with swirling thoughts. The image of Dante rushing to protect her, his eyes filled with worry and fury when she was in danger, kept lingering in her mind. That wasn't the look of a mere possessor, but genuine concern.
As she was bandaging the last soldier's wound, the tent flap gently opened. Dante stepped inside. He was still in his battle armor, but his helmet was off, revealing his messy dark hair and a face smudged with dirt, looking tired. He walked straight towards her, not saying a word.
"Are you wounded, General?" Aria asked, noticing a large graze on his arm where the arrow had superficially struck him.
Dante merely nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on her. "Just a small scratch."
Aria frowned. "Let me check." She gently touched his arm. Dante flinched slightly, but didn't protest. Aria knew that for a powerful warrior like him, showing weakness or injury was not easy.
She began meticulously cleaning the wound, using alcohol to sterilize it. Dante stood still, his eyes intently following her every movement. Aria's hand brushed against his skin, feeling each solid muscle. The scent of antiseptic mingled with the smell of blood, sweat, and Dante's distinct masculine aroma. The air in the tent grew heavy, a strange tension mixed with intimacy.
"You risked yourself for me," Aria said softly, as she carefully bandaged his wound.
Dante grasped her wrist, pulling her closer. His eyes were deep, almost tender. "You are mine, Aria. I allow no one to harm what belongs to me." The words were still possessive, but the tenderness in his tone made Aria's heart stir. "And you... you saved my life. Twice."
He raised a finger, gently tracing the faint scar on her cheek – a mark from a 21st-century battle that only she knew about. "You are very brave. Very strong."
Aria felt her cheeks flush. This was the first time Dante had shown not just brutality or desire, but also genuine respect and gratitude. She could feel a subtle shift in their relationship. It was no longer just about possession and submission, but was slowly evolving into something more complex and profound.
Dante suddenly leaned down, placing a light kiss on her forehead. It was a kiss of protection, of rare tenderness. "Rest now. You've had a long day."
He released her, turned, and walked away, leaving Aria alone in the quiet tent. The wound on his arm was carefully bandaged, but the wound in Aria's heart was not. She looked at the dagger on the table, then out of the tent, where the bright moonlight illuminated the camp. She was slowly sinking deeper into Dante's world, caught in the web of this tyrannical general's love. And the most terrifying thing was, she didn't know if she even wanted to escape anymore.