Love Begins in Hell (The Moon Journals: Part 1) Read Free

Why would he say we were equals?  My father, the Werewolf King, certainly didn’t think like that.  Dante’s words and actions of kindness and hospitality thoroughly confused me.   As a sign of good faith, I placed the weapons down before me on the bed, noticing in passing the letter ‘D’ carved into the blade of each knife.
    “A beauty like no other.  So beautiful.  Calm yourself.  Calm yourself, my sweet.  I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
    “I’m sorry?  What did you say?”
    Dante repeated his words for my benefit.  “A beauty like no other.  So beautiful.  Calm yourself.  Calm yourself, my sweet.  I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
    No demon would know how to practice Wolfen Magic,” I replied.  I observed his new nervousness.  His mood had shifted, and he refused to look at me as he continued to scratch at the table.
    “I’m not a demon.  I’m a warrior.”  He glanced at the ceiling, looking again at the lighted design of the dragon.  “I thought we covered that?”  His tone was very gentle even though I saw the muscles in his jaw twitch a few times.
    “Dante, the protector, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I curtsied, trying to appear more of a lady than I felt as well as lighten the mood.
    The intensity of his serious face vanished, and he laughed as he stood up from the table.  Watching his contentment was like observing Zeus shower the Earth with the Northern Lights when he was in a good disposition.  It immediately put me at ease.
    “My mother is a sorceress, so yes I dabble in the Magics.  And I bet I know more about Wolfen Magic than you do,” Dante bragged.
    “That’s probably true.  I know nothing about magic.  Only my wolf sense guides me.”
    “Perhaps I can teach you some.”  His smile was radiant, confident, and proud.  His demeanor changed frequently.  Was there such a thing as a moody demon , I wondered.
    When he turned and looked directly at me, my heart splintered into a million pieces as I witnessed the expression on his face.  Despite my confusion, I returned a half-heatedly crooked smile in his direction from across the room as my mouth fell open slightly, instantly forgetting why I was there.  I was speechless to do otherwise.  This boy demon was a vision of sheer beauty, and he wanted to help me.  Moreover, he instantly trusted me.  A person he didn’t know.  A werewolf.  He trusted me.  Dante seemed like a young man wanting to become a dragon shape-shifter who already understood and wanted to be honest, loyal, and trustworthy.  A person like no other.  His confidence reminded me of my grandfather’s steadfast devotion to protecting the pack, something my father had not acquired according to my aunt.
    Within seconds, Dante’s dark, broody stare had transformed to a delightful, glorious appearance.  That essence of light came from his heart.  From what my aunt had told me, no demon could fake real concern for another.  They didn’t possess it.  This young man who looked a few years older than me.  Nineteen.  Maybe twenty.  Dante, as he was called, could be a real warrior, despite his ancestry.  A young man, and a developing warrior.  All in one.  No trace of a demon at all.  I couldn’t form a single word to respond.  The attraction I felt pooling up in the pit of my stomach was undeniable.  But how could this be?  And more importantly, why?   Why would I feel an instant attraction to a different species?   I instantly realized I couldn’t kill him.  I couldn’t think straight.  Actually I couldn’t think at all.  I simply returned his gaze, letting myself be taken in by his eyes.
    Our silence intensified as I studied him.  He returned my gaze without shame, looking into my very soul it seemed.
    Dante was tall with a well-toned physique, long arms and legs.  He defined every square inch of his clothing perfectly – like a warrior –  as he stood there watching me in his black fitted T-shirt,