Chapter 27
DANTE
Icarry her bridal style into the cabin, cradled in my shirt and jacket, only offering her the slightest hint of modesty as my jeans hang low on my waist. I’d check for Izak’s cleanup text later, ensuring there are no loose ends left by which to track us, especially considering the mess I’d left at the bar.
Romi’s makeup runs down her face, mixed with mud. Perhaps I’d been too rough on her, but this time I simply couldn’t hold back; my blood pulsing to claim every inch of her so she understands who she belongs to.
She’s limp and tired in my arms, and a part of me considers how nice it might be to have another week of sick leave from work to spend cuddled on the couch with her… and fucking her.
I turn on the lights and head to the bathroom trying to hide my limp, the love burn a delightful reminder of when she shot me.
Romi admires the cabin, the small fireplace in the corner, which won’t take long to start, the bed in the center of the room, and the animal heads mounted on the walls.
“Wow, is this your personal man cave?” she asks.
“No, I rented it like a normal person,” I reply dryly, but I make a detour on the way to the bathroom in order to pick up one of the blankets from the couch and throw it over the animal head above the bed, knowing most likely that’s what's making her uncomfortable.
“I couldn’t imagine you doing something so mundane.”
I mean, I didn’t exactly rent this place, but what the owners don’t know won’t hurt them. I wasn’t taking her to a hotel, where someone else might see her in this state. No, only I’m permitted to see her in such a disheveled state, with my cum running down her legs.
“I can walk myself, you know.” She gives me a pointed look.
“Here I was, hoping you couldn’t walk for days. You wound my ego,” I say as I lower her onto my knee so I can lean over the clawfoot bathtub to run the hot water.
“I doubt your ego could ever take a hit.” She chuckles as she wriggles from my hold and then steps to the sink.
Her jaw drops when she sees her reflection in the mirror.
“Oh my fucking God! I look like I just came out of a horror movie,” she exclaims as she begins vigorously wiping at the mascara streaked under her eyes.
I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her midsection, and press a kiss to her cheek. “I’d fuck you even while you have a paper bag over your head.”
I hiss when her elbow connects with my stomach, then let out a huff of a laugh, kissing her once more before going back into the living area to start the fire. She leans against the doorframe, with arms crossed over her chest, watching me.
“You seem to know how to woo a girl. Fucking her in the mud and all, then running a bath and starting a fire.”
“I’ve never tried to woo a woman once in my life, sweetheart, and you’re the only woman I’ve fucked in the mud. You should feel special,” I reply, looking over my shoulder as I spark a flame to the wood.
She rolls her eyes. She’s so beautiful. More than I could’ve ever imagined for myself. I never thought of having a woman I'd want to claim, but now she’s in front of me, and she’s fucking perfect in every way.
“How did you know where I was?” she asks.
“Your mother.”
“You saw my mother?” She doesn’t seem too impressed.
I arch an eyebrow. “Of course. Your mother loves me. I’ll have you know that it’s common practice to bug phones and set up cameras, to ensure your safety, but I’ve been very chivalrous in gaining my information old school.”
“That’s not chivalrous, and all that other shit is psychopathic behavior.”
We’ll settle on disagreeing. “When I came here, I assumed finding you at the closest bar was my best bet.”
She glares at me for a moment longer, then I confess, “Okay, perhaps I put a tracker on your phone, and it didn’t work since your phone's off, but I haven’t set up cameras in the apartment. Yet.”
Romi throws her hands up in the air. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m thorough. There’s a difference,” I say as I stand. Her eyes roam over my chest and stomach, then stop at the blood soaked through my jeans.
“I’m sorry I shot you,” she says quietly.
“I’m not.” I walk over and stop in front of her. “On the contrary, my love, I fucking love it.”
She opens her mouth and then closes it again.
I don’t know if Romi will ever fully understand or accept my depravities.
And she doesn’t have to, as long as she doesn’t try to flee.
It’s the only time my more barbaric self truly loses control.
Because not having her in my life is not an option any longer.
I back her toward the bathtub, removing her clothes once again. A few red marks in the shape of my fingers are starting to appear on her throat from where I’d pinned her into submission, and splotches of mud mar her perfect skin.
“Will you join me?” she asks, then hisses as she lowers into the hot water.
“No, I’ll wait until after so I can patch up my leg, but I’m here,” I tell her as I grab a small cloth that I can wash her with. Her expression sours again as she looks at my leg. She sinks into the water, and I smirk as she looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head.
I don’t know why it seems so strange to her. I’ve been looking after her ever since I moved into the apartment. At first, I did it to make a favorable impression, but then it became a habit. I wanted to look after her.
“What did you do to the men back there?”
“Do you want the detailed explanation? I’m more than happy to share my methods. I won’t hide who I am from you, but if it doesn’t go well with your moral compass, I can always just say… It’s been dealt with.”
She stiffens, but I won’t apologize for it. If anything, it only pisses me off that she’s giving those men an afterthought. Obviously, I didn’t fuck her hard enough if she's still able to think of any other man.
She doesn’t ask about them again. A small shift happens in my chest. I wonder if it has something to do with finding someone who might not necessarily understand this part of me—the one that thirsts for the hunt like an animal—but accepts it anyway.
I've never had that before. Not even Lorenzo, my only remaining family, has granted me that acceptance.
“What did my mother say to you?” she asks quietly, pulling her knees to her chest so she can rest her head on them.
I despise seeing her like this, as anything other than the fierce spitfire she usually is, but there’s also a genuineness to her pain.
She's giving me a gift by letting me see the real her. A part that I bet she doesn’t let many people see, and I will fight tooth and nail so no one else ever does.
This side of her is now reserved for me alone.
“She said she missed your fire. And she didn’t say much about the reasons why you left, but I saw the comments on your socials—”
“You follow me on social media?” she asks, deadpan.
“Of course, and you never followed me back. Which is rude, by the way.”
She smirks and leans closer so I can trail the hot cloth over her arm. She’s so fucking striking. I wipe the cloth over her face, removing the mud. I will never grow tired of seeing all the versions of this woman.
“Obsessed much?” she teases with a small smile, then bites her bottom lip.
I lean in and kiss her, plunging my tongue into her mouth and taking everything I can. Finally, she’s submitted to me. I know the moment is fleeting, and I know she doesn’t yet understand the truth of my intensity. But she’ll learn in due time.
Her hand comes between us, and she shoves me away with a smirk.
I can’t help but mirror her smile as I continue to wash her. “The comments led me to an article about you abusing a woman named Meredith.”
She sinks deeper into the water. “I slapped her.”
“Well, that’s far too boring.”
She cuts me a scathing glare. “We’re not all made to kill, Mr. Psycho. Some of us abide by society’s norms, at the very least, by not murdering people.”
I shrug. “We’re all born with the instinct. It simply depends on who’s willing to act on the impulse. When you’re raised to nurture those thoughts instead of denying them, you’d be surprised by how liberating it can feel.”
Her eyebrows furrow, and I know I still don’t entirely make sense to her. I’ve never really cared if anyone understood me, but if I allowed anyone into my clever mind, it would only be her.
“Your agent mentioned you have a collection coming up that you haven't finished, and you haven’t been active on your socials since your friend's death. So I didn’t need confirmation from your mother as to why you might’ve wanted to get out of town for a while. I only needed to know where.”
She doesn’t respond to that, and it irks me that these gossips have impacted her.
Romi doesn’t seem like the type to care what others think about her, but I imagine it feels like another heavyweight added to her shoulders.
So, I dare to ask the question she’s been running away from since the moment I met her.
“Do you want to explain to me what happened on the day Lorraine died?”
She’s quiet for a moment, drawing back into herself. “I’m surprised you haven’t already looked into it yourself. You seem like the capable type.”
“I’m more than capable, sweetheart, but I’ve been waiting for you to tell me yourself.
” And that’s the truth. From the very start, I wanted to see the world through her eyes, understand her struggles, and why she lashes out like a wounded animal.
Not through a profile curated about her, which would’ve fast-tracked the process, but I wanted more than that; I wanted to explore Romi for the raw and messy version she was.
I thought it was to spite my brother, but I realize now, what lies between us has nothing to do with unnerving him or dividing his world from the inside out. I can’t punish her simply because he’s a dick.