The Reborn Omega's Revenge (Valencia) novel Chapter 153

Dante’s POV:

“Don’t… why are you crying?”

I whispered the question as I cupped Valencia’s face, my thumbs gently wiping away the stray tears streaking down her cheeks.

Her lips trembled, her hands clenching into the sheets beneath her as if trying to anchor herself.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing… I just… I just got emotional.”

“Don’t lie to me, Vi,” I murmured, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet my gaze. “Not about this. Tell me.”

She bit her lower lip, hesitating. I could feel her emotions swirling through our bond. I knew what she was thinking about. Maybe it was cruel that I was making her say it out loud. But…I wanted her verbal confirmation.

That she loved me, wanted me, needed me just as much as I did her.

And then, finally, she spoke.

“I’m sorry. It’s stupid. I don’t understand why I’m still so hung up on the fact that I can’t mark you.” Her voice was soft, filled with something dangerously close to self-loathing. “I feel so selfish… but maybe… maybe it’s better this way. Maybe the fact that I can’t is a blessing for you.”

I stiffened.

She swallowed hard, blinking back another wave of tears.

“You’re going to live way longer than me, Dante,” she whispered, her voice breaking on my name. “You can’t spend centuries alone. You deserve someone by your side—”

She cut herself off, her breath hitching sharply as I sat up and pulled my shirt over my head.

Her eyes widened.

Her hands trembled as she reached out, tracing her fingers over my bare chest.

“Dante… what is this?”

She stumbled over her words, her voice filled with shock.

I took her wrist and guided her palm over the mark inked just above my heart.

Her name.

‘Valencia.’

Marked into my skin in thick, bold script.

“I don’t care if you can’t mark me,” I said, my voice low, steady. “I will always be fully and irrevocably yours.” I took a deep breath, feeling my chest rise beneath her fingertips. “If a mark is what it takes for you to believe that… then I got it marked.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

She stared, her breathing uneven, as though she couldn’t fully process what she was seeing.

“But… how?” she finally whispered, her brows furrowing. “Tattoos don’t stay on you. They heal. Your body regenerates too fast—”

I chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “Normal tattoos would heal, yeah.” I smirked. “So I had it done with witch fire.”

Her gasp was instant.

“Dante!” she exclaimed, her hands flying to my shoulders, her grip tight with alarm. “That’s—wasn’t that painful?!”

Her voice wavered with concern, her eyes frantically scanning my chest as if she could still see the lingering pain.

I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Hm… yeah, it hurt like hell,” I admitted.

Her mouth opened in protest, but before she could say anything, I leaned in, my forehead pressing against hers.

“But it was worth it,” I murmured. “As long as it makes you happy.”

Her breath shuddered.

Her fingers curled around my wrist, her grip shaking slightly.

“Are you happy?” I asked, watching her closely.

She exhaled slowly, nodding.

Then—suddenly—she shook her head.

I frowned. “Vi—”

Before I could say another word, she grabbed my face and crashed her lips into mine.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss.

It was raw. Desperate.

Like she was trying to pour all her emotions into it at once, trying to tell me what words couldn’t.

I felt her joy through our bond, warm and overwhelming, crashing into me like a tidal wave.

And fuck, it made my chest feel lighter than it had in days.

She pulled away, breathless, her forehead resting against mine. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”

I chuckled, pressing another kiss to the corner of her lips. “Then don’t say anything.”