27. Dante
Dante
A strange sensation coasted through my chest.
Pride.
It was clear by Juliette’s expression that she was surprised by my words and reaction. She had never tried to be meek. Unless she attempted to distract you, but that was beside the point. It was what I loved about her. Her strength. After learning what happened to her, I admired her even more.
I wanted her to know that I’d always be behind her if someone wronged her. And I’d damn well be in front of her if someone tried to hurt her. I’d shred them to pieces.
Her blue eyes that reminded me of the Ionian Sea stared back at me.
When Priest and I were kids, our father took us on a vacation.
It was one of the best ones since Mother didn’t tag along.
The fact that it was Greece made it even better.
We stayed at a little cottage overlooking the sea, and it was the bluest water I’d ever seen.
Staring at my wife now, she reminded me of that time. The happiness with my father and younger brother. The warmth against our skin. The sounds of the waves against the shoreline. Neither my brother nor I ever wanted to leave.
With the manager and waiter cleared, I picked up the menu. “So what are you in the mood for?”
Juliette got herself together, glancing down to her own menu. “Considering it’s a pizzeria, maybe a pizza?”
I nodded. “Good choice.”
As if watching us, the waiter showed up and we placed our order, then he made himself scarce again.
“You mean that?” Juliette questioned, her eyes studying me for any signs that I’d be lying.
“Mean what? That I’ll rip anyone to shreds if they hurt you?” She held her breath, keeping her eyes on me. “I do.”
She let out an incredulous breath. “But you don’t even know me.”
A sardonic breath left me. “I’ve known you for two years at least, Juliette. You’re the longest relationship I’ve had with a woman.”
Not to mention that I’d met her first when she was thirteen. Of course, I never thought that I’d fall for that same girl once she grew into this stunning woman. I wanted her to want me like I wanted her. To need me like I needed her.
She rolled her eyes and my lips twisted into a smile.
“We didn’t have a relationship,” she breathed, though her cheeks were slightly flushed. “We know nothing about each other.”
I could have laughed, though I wasn’t amused at all. She was right. For the past two years, our interactions had been limited. Most of the time, it ended with the two of us bickering. But I made it my mission during that time to learn everything about this girl.
Everything.
Her favorite color. Her favorite foods. Her reading selection. Her favorite flowers. Her bucket list.
Yes, she had a damn bucket list on Pinterest and I stalked it. I hadn’t touched another woman since this wildling bumped into me and proceeded to seduce me. All the years between us and she practically had me wrapped around her finger.
But Juliette’s favorite activity—and by default mine—was the St. Jean d’Arc School project. A school for our future generations. She and her friends started stealing to fund their idea. Their goal was to establish a school for children, including girls, of the underworld families.
Heat crawled beneath my skin, and suddenly, I wished I’d worn a T-shirt despite the freezing temperatures. I reached for my spare cigarette I always kept on me for emergencies and put it between my lips.
Bottom line was that my wife, Juliette Brennan, newly DiLustro, unsettled me. We’d shared barely a kiss, the groping she subjected me to while under the influence of drugs didn’t count—hardly even qualified for a grade-school relationship and she fucking unsettled me.
I leaned against the chair, locking gazes with her shining blue eyes. She thought she got me, but in the end, I’d get her. Under me. On top of me. Beside me.
All the fucking positions. Doggy style. Spooning. Rocking horse. Missionary.
I couldn’t fucking wait.
“Ask me anything,” I offered.
She snickered. “If you think I’ll offer the same, you’re delusional.”
I smiled confidently. “I already know everything about you.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “No, you don’t.”
“Then test me, Wildling.” Her eyes flashed in annoyance at the nickname. She hated it; I fucking loved it. Juliette was wild, through and through. “Unless you’re worried.”
She blew a frustrated breath. “Fine. What’s my favorite color?”
“Yellow.” Surprise crossed her expression. “Because it reminds you of sunshine and you believe it looks best on you, but you’re wrong.” She narrowed her eyes, and before she could say anything, I added, “Every color looks great on you.”
It was the truth. She always looked breathtaking. Her eyes always sparkled, but when she wore yellow, somehow her eyes turned even brighter. Like the sun against the blue sea.
“Flirt,” she muttered.
“What is my favorite color?” I asked her though I was certain she didn’t know.
A heartbeat passed. “Black?”
I rolled my eyes. “Why black?”
She blinked her eyes innocently. “Like a DiLustro’s soul,” she answered, keeping her tone soft but having a hard time keeping her face straight. It was best I didn’t comment on it.
I shook my head. “Wrong. Want to try again?”
She waved her hand in exasperation. “Just tell me.”
“Blue. Specifically, the blue of the Ionian Sea.”
Her brows knitted. “Why?” she questioned.
“Why what?”
“That color seems so specific,” she explained. “Why that specific shade of blue?”
“It reminds me of your eyes,” I admitted. “And it was one of the best vacations my brother and I ever had.”
I waited for some comment to come, but Juliette remained pensively quiet. Sometimes she managed to surprise me with her reactions. I never knew what to expect from her. She’d certainly keep me on my toes for the rest of our lives.
“My favorite food?” she asked after a few minutes of tense silence.
“Dessert. Specifically parfait.”
She widened her eyes but quickly schooled her features. “You must have seen me devour that shit at Wynter’s wedding.” I tilted my head, watching her. We both knew she didn’t eat that shit at her cousin’s wedding. “Fine! My favorite drink?”
“Whisky,” I answered. “Although now that you've sworn off alcohol, maybe we’ll switch to lemonade in the future?”
“Hahaha,” she retorted dryly. “Stalker.”
“Damn straight.” Then I brought the glass of sparkling water to my lips. I’d prefer beer with my pizza but if Juliette decided no more alcohol, I’d support her. “Giving up already?”
“Geez, you’re exhausting,” she muttered. “My favorite book?”
My grin widened and smugness swelled in my chest. “ Fifty Shades of Grey .” Her face turned so pink, I worried her skin would permanently stain. And still I didn’t ease off. “Is it the sex or the story that you like?”
She reached for her own glass and gulped it down in one swig. Her sapphire gaze met mine head-on.
“You tell me,” she grumbled. “You seem to know it all.”
Heat raced to my groin. There was nothing more I wanted than to grab the nape of her neck, pull her closer, and press my lips against hers. I wanted the taste of her mouth thoroughly on my tongue.
It was a need, no longer just a want.