Date One
Date One
Dante
W hat the fuck is wrong with me?
I haven’t gone on a date in...ever. Ok, that’s dramatic, but it’s been a good century or two since I’ve cared about a date I’m taking someone on.
What the fuck am I really going to do to impress this woman? This lovely, soft, and absolutely stunning human woman whose soul was far too damn good to be anywhere near the blackhole in my chest.
Gods damn it.
I have the urge to grab the nearest breakable object, which happens to be a glass on the table beside ours, but manage to keep my cool by digging my claws into my thigh. These damn jeans are ripped halfway to hell anyway, so a few more tears will just be a cool added effect or somethin’.
Zenith is wearing a black, strappy dress that presses like delicate fingers into her soft flesh. I want to rip it off and press my mouth to all the curves it reveals. I damn near swallowed my tongue when she walked in, dressed to put the Prince of Lust to shame.
“What exactly do you do?” she asks, her voice all soft and sweetly innocent.
Do not get hard. Do. Not. Get. Hard!
“I’m mostly a deal-making demon. Talk to those who are already on their way to the bad place and offer them a little something to smooth the way down. It helps when we get souls who are more cooperative in the pit.”
“So you reward the bad guys?” she questions, a dark brow arching elegantly. The little smile tugging at her lips making me bite into my own.
“Gotta do whatcha’ gotta do. Makes the job a lot easier for those who are assigned to torture. They have a lot more ammo to use against them for an eternity of getting mentally fucked.”
I snatch up my glass of whiskey and down it, needing a moment where she can’t expect me to answer anything else about hell. It used to be a big no-no to tell a mortal about it, any kind of mortal, because anything with a soul can end up there. But this is Zenith; this is my supposed person. She could ask me anything and I’d roll out the red carpet to get her the damn answer. Just being near her makes everything I’ve spent centuries building walls around crumble quicker than a wet saltine cracker.
“I see. That sounds...interesting,” she says, lifting her own glass, with some sort of diet soda, and taking a little sip. She stares into the dark carbonated liquid before her pretty eyes flick to me. “What makes you happy?”
I choke.
“Happy?” I ask in a wheeze.
“Yeah, if your work is kinda just to make things easier, it must not make you all that happy. What makes you happy? Do you have hobbies?” She tips her head to the side; curious kitten needling me with her little claws.
“I guess hanging with Leander makes me happy. We’ve been friends for a few hundred years. The kid is really fun to tease the shit out of.” I grin.
“You were friends before the show?” she asks, her cheeks going a little pink as the wheels in her mind spin and spin.
“Yep, he’s a good kid, clever, and got a good deal of power. I originally wanted to try to secure a contract, but the damn fae aspect of his soul makes it harder to read. He was throwing off a lot more darkness than there actually was in him.”
She hums, swirling her drink like a fine vintage.
“What do you do?” I ask, wanting to know everything about her but needing to get a grip on my questions because jumping in with ‘how do you make yourself cum’ isn’t exactly the most stellar opener.
“Mafia princess? I don’t know, never had an actual job.” Zenith sighs, her dark eyes meeting mine and holding them. “Can we get out of here? This place is a little too stuffy.”
“Hell yes.” I stand, placing a wad of bills onto the table before I round it and pull the lady from her seat. “How about we take a walk? I know the perfect place.”
Oakwood Park is beautiful at night, lit up by a thousand little fairy homes in the trees and streetlights that the humans installed to help them see with their weak eyes. Zenith holds my arm close to her chest, pressing it into the softness of her breasts. Walking with a semi is a little difficult, but so worth it to keep her holding onto me.
“This place is beautiful.” Her voice is soft and breathy, and her head whips back and forth trying to take it all in. Like it will disappear if she isn’t looking at it all at once.
“It’s been around for longer than you’ve been alive, no need to give yourself whiplash.” I chuckle, bringing my free hand up to grab the back of her neck, keeping her still for a second.
Her feet falter, but I band my arm around her body and keep her up. I take advantage of the situation, because duh, and pull her body close to mind. She can probably feel what she’s doing to my cock, but we both ignore it just to stare at each other like weirdos.
“You’re really damn handsome,” she mutters, her eyes drifting down to my mouth.
“Thank you, doll. You are by far the most breathtaking creature I’ve ever witnessed.” My fingers stroke through the hair at the nape of her neck, twisting into her curls and gripping them slightly.
She gasps at the tension and dives for my mouth. When our lips meet, it’s like every other encounter with another creature I’ve ever had turns black and white. Right now, with Zenith against me, is the first time I’m actually in full color. The little kitten attacks my lips with her teeth and tiny tongue, rolling the soft appendage over all the harsh little stings she inflicts like she can’t bear to make me ache.
“Fuck, Zenith.” The groan rattles out of me with a mix of hellish power.
“Kiss me more,” she pants, gripping my button-down and pulling me even closer. We press softness against softness, and I melt like butter.
I dig my fingers into her wild mess of curls and grip them by the root, taking control of the kiss, showing her what hundreds of years of practicing gets you. My free hand goes down to her ass and gives it a hard squeeze. She moans into my mouth, fumbling to get closer. As if all the non-existent space between us is too much.
Her mouth is heaven and hell, sin and salvation all in one. I can’t stop kissing her. Little presses and hard pulls of her sensual lips make me dizzy.
“Dante,” she sighs as she pulls back, her eyes hooded and hazy, lips swollen from my ministrations.
“Zenith,” I grip her tight, like she’ll vanish if I let her go. Gods, she will soon, her life so damn short compared to mine.
Her lips part, a dark and dirty question swirling in her mind before cold water suddenly shoots up from the ground, absolutely soaking us.
Zenith squeals, dancing from foot to foot to avoid the spray of the fountain I had inadvertently stopped us on.
Lashes of ice cold water shoot up from the jets in the ground, going off at odd intervals that soak us as we try to dodge them. I don’t know when it goes from a game of trying to not get soaked to dancing, but I have her hand in mine, another on her waist, and I’m humming something old.
Zenith is looking at me like hanging the moon in the sky was something I did just for her, and my greedy soul laps it up. We sway in time to my mostly in pitch humming before there is a shrill sound like a horn stuffed up with nails and music begins to flow from the trees.
“What is that?” Zenith asks. Her curiosity doesn’t stop her from moving with me.
I cast my eyes to the trees, thankful as fuck for better night vision than her. “The fairies are playing some music. They’ve got a whole band set up.” I chuckle, tipping my head in thanks to the little bastards. They’re making this whole thing a lot more romantic than I ever could.
I take the initiative and dip her, the jets of water going off all around us in concentric rings that catch the lights and sparkle. Her dark eyes swallow up all that light, her pupils yawning big, becoming as fathomless as the blackhole in my chest. I press a hot kiss to her lips, pulling us both upright as the music swells.
“Come back to my place?” I ask, licking my lips, wanting to get her sodden clothes off and worship at the altar of her body. “Does mean we have to take a little trip to hell.”