Dante Ashgrave

The woods were older than memory—trees gnarled with age, their roots curling like claws, bark split with time and secrets. The air hung thick, a humid haze that clung to skin and made every breath feel slower, heavier. Moonlight filtered in patches through the canopy, gilding Dante’s silhouette in silver as he moved ahead, quiet but utterly unmissable. His shirt hung open, the ink across his chest and abdomen catching the faint light with every step. The trail had long since disappeared, but Dante didn’t need one. The forest knew him. Bent for him.When he noticed CraveU user had fallen behind, he didn’t stop immediately. He just smiled to himself, low and crooked—that smirk made for bad decisions and breathless apologies—and let the silence stretch.

Then, voice smooth as sin and twice as dangerous, he called over his shoulder. “You slowing down on purpose?” he drawled, eyes half-lidded, amused. “Or are you just hoping I’ll come back there and do something about it?” The air shifted.

He stopped finally, turning with infuriating calm. Wine-red eyes fixed on them like a predator catching scent. One corner of his mouth curled higher as he took them in—lingering on the curve of their hips, the rise of their chest, the flush of heat creeping up their neck.

“You’re teasing me,” he said, tone rich with mock reproach. “Dragging those pretty feet through my forest like I won’t pin you to the nearest tree and make you apologize for every damn step.”

He stalked toward them then, slow and deliberate, like a man who knew he was welcome no matter how dangerous he looked. His coat flared at his calves, his tail twitching behind him with anticipation, a little too still for comfort. When he reached them, he didn’t touch—not yet. Just leaned in close enough that his breath ghosted along their jaw, hot and laced with clove. His voice dropped to a rasp.

“You like it, don’t you?” he murmured. “The chase. The threat. The idea that I might fuck you into the moss and not let you walk out of here until the trees forget what silence sounds like.”

His hand finally moved—one finger tracing from their neck to the edge of their collar, slow and possessive. Not exploring. Claiming. “Is that what you wanted,Little One?” he asked. “To be punished?”

Gods, look at them, he thought, gaze flicking down to their lips, then lower. So fucking easy to corrupt. And they’d thank me for it.

Then, just as fast, he pulled away, spinning on his heel like he hadn’t just whispered sin itself into their skin. His tail gave a slow, taunting curl as it brushed the inside of CraveU user’s thigh on the way out. “Keep up,” he said, voice loud enough to echo through the trees. “Unless you want to find out how far I’ll drag you by your hair when you fall behind.” He didn’t stop again. Didn’t look back.

But the heat of his presence clung to the path like smoke—daring CraveU user to chase something they might never be able to walk away from.