Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
REV
Dante’s date was objectively handsome.
Tall and thickly muscled with a shag of blond hair and curious brown and blue eyes. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t contemplating how many pieces to chop him into for hitting up my murder kitten.
Bad thoughts, Rev. Bad boy.
Three pieces would have been a perfectly acceptable number. Not too unhinged. Bone saw would make quick work of it. I’d dump him in the river where the fish could pick at his worthless remains.
Thankfully, Dante saved me from this wrongful line of thinking when he came storming over, looking like he did, all dolled up in a sweater with his curls tied back to show off that delectable little beauty mark that takes up considerable space in my brain.
My focus has fully switched from bloodshed to winning over the man currently clinging to my back as I weave through traffic.
Normally, I don’t take the bike out in the winter, but the temptation of forcing Dante closer to me was too strong to pass up. Not to mention, the loud engine is just another way to draw his attention when I get home from work.
Am I being a bit more reckless with my speed than usual?
Sue me. I like his arms tightening around my waist.
Despite the rush of icy air numbing my face, I like the blur of the city lights around us, too.
West Bank may not hold the modern beauty of East Bank, but it has history.
Architectural charm. It’s gritty and cutthroat and teeming with life.
Most of my childhood was spent caged up in my grandparents’ secluded manor without much human interaction.
The attention I did receive before that from my mother was almost always negative.
Blink once in a while, hingetu. At least pretend like you’re normal.
Stop creeping around like you’re hunting something.
No leaving your room when it’s dark outside. You disturb me.
No pets. Ever. Don’t ask again.
I slow our pace to drink it all in. Now that I’ve earned Dante’s company, I don’t want this night to end. I have him captive. His delicate life is in my hands.
And to think he willingly put it there.
I don’t care about much outside of my work with Sinro, but the responsibility of taking care of Dante has moved to the top of my list. Especially after his older brother dropped that black notebook on my porch the other night.
I’d cracked it open, only to find pages of random letters and number strings.
To anyone outside my line of work, they might not have thought much of the coded information.
But when I texted Laz for details, he’d replied that it had belonged to his father and that it probably had something to do with the cartel.
I park my bike in front of a bustling Thai restaurant along a strip of locally owned restaurants.
Dante hops off before I can cut the engine, and my mouth curls into a smile.
He can’t stand the fact that he wants me while my obsession has only grown with every new facet of him I uncover.
I don’t think my interest is ever going to wane, even when I finally get him beneath me.
Dante tugs off his helmet, eyeing me with a guarded expression. “Thai food?”
“Mmm. It’s one of my favorites.”
The place is owned by some of the nicest people in the city. A family of immigrants who stick together.
Honestly, that’s something I’ve come to treasure.
I discovered found family when I got hired at Sinro, and it threw a wrench in everything I thought I knew about myself.
I can care for others, despite the labels that have been thrown at me.
My affection is just reserved for people who actually deserve it.
“If you prefer something fancier, I can take you anywhere. However, this place is special to me.”
His dark brows furrow as he takes in the glass windows of the shop lit up by strings of twinkly lights. When the front door swings open for a delivery guy to rush out, the mouthwatering aroma of warm spices fills the air.
“This is fine,” he mumbles.
He strides through the door before I can open it for him. A soft laugh slips past my lips. Dante tries so hard to shield himself and hide his complicated, delicate nature. It’s the reason I won’t let him commit murder.
I’ve spent a lifetime surrounded by humans who wouldn’t hesitate to kill, cheat, manipulate, or steal.
Dante is different. I refuse to let this world corrupt him.
A woman with silky black hair pulled high in a perfect bun smiles at me when I enter the shop. “Ah, Mr. Kotkas. Good to see you again. Please sit anywhere.”
“Thank you, Malee,” I reply, offering a smile.
She’s babied me ever since Sinro saved her daughter during a large-scale sex trade bust a couple of years ago, spawned by the arrival of our very own little thief, Ezra, who spent several years of his own life imprisoned and mistreated.
I keep my inner circle tight, but I make an exception for Malee. I genuinely don’t want to see any more harm or tragedy come to her family.
Grabbing a menu from the front counter, I trail Dante to a table in the back corner. It’s small enough that our knees brush underneath it. He makes a point of scooting his chair back. Then he snatches the menu from my hand.
“Stop doing that,” he grumbles.
I raise a brow. “Doing what?”
“Staring at me.”
“Why would I look anywhere else?”
He frowns and lifts the menu higher to hide his rosy cheeks. “What do you get from here?”
“Gaeng daeng. It’s red curry. If you don’t like spice, you could do the yellow curry. Or Pad Thai.”
With a sigh, he sets the menu down. “Just order for me.”
He’s flustered, and I think I like it more than I like his anger. Scratch that, I like every side of Dante I’ve uncovered.
Malee hurries over to take our orders. She keeps giving me thumbs up behind Dante’s back with this wide grin.
Even though we don’t order appetizers, she fills the table with spring rolls, pork skewers, and steamed dumplings.
Dante thanks her in the softest, most polite tone I’ve ever heard from him.
“You are very pretty. You’re good together.
” She motions between us, and Dante gets all flustered and pink-cheeked again.
I log his reaction as discomfort, but I think he just doesn’t know what to do with the attention.
It makes me hungrier to win him over. When I do, I’m going to shower him with praise.
Dante avoids my gaze, focusing on other diners and fiddling with his silverware as we tear through the food.
“So.” I rest my chin on a propped-up hand. “Other than trying to commit felonies, what are you into?”
He rolls his eyes. “Like you haven’t already figured me out.”
“As much as I’d love to stalk you all hours of the day, I do have a day job. Sometimes it bleeds over into evening activities.”
Sharp eyes meet mine, and his voice lowers. “Do those activities always involve killing people?”
“Contrary to your belief, we do provide other services. Security detail, cyber protection, training…”
“Is that what you wanted to do?”
“Curious about me?”
He scowls. “More like bored.”
“Say it without blushing.”
My cock twitches as his lips part to spew angry words. However, Malee interrupts to set bowls of steaming curry and jasmine rice on our table, snatching up the empty appetizer plates I stacked.
“Just answer my question,” Dante mumbles when Malee leaves us.
I make him wait, taking my time with a mouthful of savory, spicy food. “It’s what I’m good at.”
Dante’s brows furrow. “That doesn’t mean you enjoy something.”
After another bite, I level him with a serious look. “I enjoy it more than I should, Dante. Every dark aspect of what I’m asked to do.”
He frowns and shifts in his chair as he glances around the restaurant awkwardly. I’m not going to mislead him. He can have every gritty answer he desires.
“But you do it to protect people, right?” His brows furrow.
“Always.”
Nodding, he settles back into eating.
“Did you always want to be a dancer?” I ask.
“On a different stage, yes.”
I wait for him to elaborate, knowing he used to be part of a ballet company, but he gives me nothing, and I have to respect that.
There’s a whole lot to unpack with Dante.
He’s clearly still in the trenches of having his life torn apart.
Pushing too hard will only result in him running away and hiding, and that’s the last thing I want.
I change the subject. “So what’s with the date?”
It’s not the wisest question to ask. Not when I’m uncertain how I’ll react if he decides to open up on this topic.
He lifts a shoulder, avoiding eye contact. “Felt like it.”
“Do you often feel like it?”
Sharp eyes flick up to meet mine. “Why do I feel like you’d hunt down the people I’ve been with if I say yes?”
“It’s definitely an appealing thought.” I shrug.
Dante huffs and shakes his head.
“Well?” I press.
“Recently? No. I did go through a phase…”
“Names.”
Dante nudges my leg under the table. “Behave.”
My smile grows when he doesn’t move his leg away from mine.
“Tell me. Why the sudden desire to meet someone?”
A muscle in his jaw twitches, and I wait with bated breath for him to give me the answer I’m craving.
Malee decides to check on us and fuss over Dante. He accepts her motherly affection with kindness, which takes the edge off my irritation at being interrupted. Malee has that effect on people. She won me over when I rarely feel anything more than indifference toward people.
When she finally leaves, I continue staring at him intently.
Dante’s hand clenches around his spoon as he leans over his curry. “Maybe because someone keeps forcing his way into my head.”
I can’t restrict the voltage of my grin. “Oh, baby boy.”
“Stop calling me that.” His voice is weak, though. A half-assed attempt at his usual anger.
“You’ve just given me more motivation to break you down.”
“I was afraid of that.” He sips at his curry and grimaces. “Spicy.”
“I warned you.”
We finish our meal while I drill him for more information.
He reveals what I already knew—that he moved around a lot as a kid.
Cartagena has his heart, or “what’s left of it.
” I share the bare minimum, telling him the most I ever saw of the world as a kid were the walls of my house and school before I joined the military.
Shockingly, Dante asks me about my interests.
“I enjoy a good book, but you knew that,” I tease.
“Smut books.”
“I read fantasy and mysteries, too.”
“With smut?”
I chuckle. “You catch on fast.”
He snorts and scoops more curry into his mouth.
“Reading keeps my brain from doing bad things,” I admit.
“Bad things…”
“Mmm, like climbing through your window at night.”
“Attempt it, and you’ll get stabbed.” He pauses, face scrunching. “What else?”
I smirk. “I’m into food, art, fashion, guns, and fighting.”
“Suppose some of that is to be expected.”
“I enjoy watching you dance. You have a gift, Dante.”
He falls quiet for a few bites. “I used to.”
With that, he shuts down for the remainder of our meal. Once his bowl is clean, he asks if we can leave. He lets me buckle his helmet with no fuss this time, and he doesn’t fight to keep his body off mine as I take us home.
He avoids looking at me when he climbs off my bike. “So…I guess I’m sorry for cutting you. And biting you.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“The fuck…” he mutters, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I want to know everything you’re into.”
Unable to stop the movement, I nudge his chin up with a knuckle so he’s forced to look at me. “I’m into you, kitten.”
His eyes go wide. I force myself to pull away. It’s a game of patience with him, one I know will be worth the wait.
Sliding off my bike, I walk him to his front door.
When he fumbles with the lock, I grip his hand in my gloved one and guide his key into the lock.
I linger behind him, aching to touch him more.
To ease my hands up the front of his shirt and explore his smooth skin.
To spin him around and crush him against the door while I claim those pretty lips.
To unravel him piece by fucking piece with my tongue, and teeth, and cock.
Forcing a step back, I murmur, “Good night, Dante.”
He hesitates for a few breaths, head bowed, before he slips inside and shuts the door with a quiet “night.”