Chapter 18
Dante
After a few days, Theo is settled in. Every night he finds his way into my bed, and every morning I find myself reluctant to leave the warm tangle of his arms. I’m far too comfortable there, wrapped up in him.
He hasn’t pushed the boundaries between us since that first morning, but he doesn’t bother hiding how the closeness affects him.
He stretches with an expression of perfect innocence, angelic even, as he deliberately brushes his cock against my leg with one of his soft moans. My self-control hangs by a thread that grows thinner with every passing day.
We picked up his car, though he rolled his eyes at me for a solid hour while I checked it for trackers. Since he’s perfectly content letting me drive him everywhere, it has stayed parked inside the garage.
We disagree on how to proceed with Jesse. My initial demand he get the police involved was met with resistance, and even after he’s had some time to think about it, he’s hesitant. He keeps insisting it won’t do any good against someone who’s clearly obsessed and unstable.
I understand the logic. A piece of paper is little more than a flimsy shield. But if things escalate, if Jesse tries anything else, having it documented will matter. It takes some gentle convincing, but Theo finally gave me a very vague agreement.
I pop my head into the living room and find him curled up on the couch in an oversized hoodie and joggers.
Headphones rest over his thick brown hair as he types away on his laptop.
For a moment I lean against the doorframe, just watching him, grinning at the way he chews on the inside of his cheek when he’s deep in concentration.
“Want to take a picture?” he drawls, eyes never leaving his screen. “I’ll be a willing model.”
I huff a laugh, but I’ve learned it’s best not to interrupt when he’s deep in work, so I cross the room to the small desk I’ve claimed as my painting station.
The surface is scattered with brushes, pots of Citadel paints, and half-finished miniatures—tiny warriors and monsters waiting for their final details.
I settle into the chair, select a fine brush, and dip it into a deep gray, starting on the braids of a monster figurine I’ve been half-finished with for weeks.
Theo’s typing slows, then stops before his laptop closes softly. “What are you working on?”
“Trying to finish this guy,” I murmur, steadying my hand as I layer highlights. No one has ever watched me work before, and besides Theo, I don’t think anyone even knows about my hobby. “He’s been half-done since before the concert.”
Theo pads over barefoot, then leans against the desk to watch me work with quiet curiosity. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Ah… since I moved in here, really. Once I left Trent, everything was so quiet, and sometimes my mind would wander.”
“I know how that is,” Theo says softly.
“I was looking for a hobby that wouldn’t take up too much space, but would also…” I trail off, glancing away from the brush for a moment to meet his eyes with a rueful snort. “It sounds kind of lame to say it out loud.”
“Tell me,” he insists, with that earnest curiosity in his eyes.
I exhale, picking up the brush again so I have an excuse to not look at him.
“It… made me feel in control. I made all the choices, small as they might be. And it’s not like they’re some monumental task, but I felt…
accomplished when I finished. I needed to feel like I was moving forward, and this… it helped.”
“That’s far from lame, Dante,” he says softly. “Every one of these little guys shows a step you took in the right direction.” I give him a grateful smile that he returns. He doesn’t speak again for a while; he just observes, chin resting on his fist.
“All done,” I say, setting the brush down and leaning back to inspect the figure under the desk lamp.
He lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That looks incredible.”
I turn the miniature slowly so he can see the full effect—the subtle flush on the cheeks and the tiny scratches and battle damage I spent hours stippling in. “Not bad for someone who used to paint with a toothpick because he couldn't afford proper brushes.”
Theo laughs softly, reaching out to touch the base with one careful fingertip. “You’ve come a long way. Seriously—this is gallery-level detail.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “You think so?”
“I know so.” He straightens, eyes bright. “Shelf time?”
I nod, already standing. We walk together to the small glass-fronted case in the corner of my office, the one that’s slowly filled over the years with painted minis. Theo opens the door and I place the monster carefully on the top shelf.
“Are you finished working?” I ask as we return to the living room.
He nods and flops back onto the couch, pulling his knees up like he's getting ready to curl in for the afternoon.
“You said something a few minutes ago,” I say carefully as I sink onto the couch opposite him, “about taking steps in the right direction.”
He glances over at me. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?”
“We need to go by the police station, Theo,” I say as gently as I can.
“Or—follow me here—I can keep pretending it never happened.”
“You could. But how long do you think it’ll take before you stop looking over your shoulder?”
He pouts, vaguely gesturing around the room. “My evil plan is to live here forever and force you to protect me.”
“I’ll always protect you,” I promise.
His head falls back onto the arm of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Goddamn it, why do you have to say such perfect things?”
I fight back a grin at his pout. “I can try being meaner if you prefer?”
His head snaps up and he leans forward, resting his chin on his hands. “Do it.”
“Okay, um…” I clear my throat and force my face into a hard glare. “Fuck you. You’re on your own.”
“That was a good start, but I need more,” he encourages, curling his fingers like he’s directing me.
“I don’t even care if you get kidnapped.”
“Come on, you can do better than that.”
My eyes flick up and down his frame with an exaggerated sneer. “Your taste in clothing is awful and your makeup skills are subpar.”
Theo gasps, clutching both hands dramatically over his heart as he collapses back onto the couch. “Too much! That was too much, you villain! My heart can’t handle it!”
I crawl over him, smirking down at his limp body beneath me.
“Come to reap the spoils of war?” he rasps.
“Get up, you nuisance,” I say, still grinning.
“You’ve killed me,” he insists, even as a bright smile lights up his face. “I’m afraid the only way I won’t perish is through true love’s first kiss.”
“Ah, well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. It’s a shame we already had our first kiss.”
“Wait, wait,” he argues, gripping my shirt to keep me close. “Let’s not get hasty. I meant to say true love’s… fourth kiss? Fifth?” He shakes his head and tugs me nearer. “Whatever the number is, I need it.”
My resistance crumbles. I let him pull me down and press my lips to his.
When I try to pull away, Theo’s arms loop around my neck and yank me back in, pouring more heat into the kiss.
I melt into it despite every defense screaming at me to stop allowing all this casual contact.
Before I can overthink it, he releases me with a quiet, satisfied sigh.
“All better?” I ask softly.
“It’s enough to keep me going for now,” he answers, though his smile carries a hint of sadness.
“Come on, sunshine,” I say, sitting back on my heels. “Let’s get going. We’ll stop by the police station before practice, but afterward I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
He perks up, lifting his head. “What if I want a fancy dinner?”
“Then we’ll get a fancy dinner.”
“What if I want ice cream?”
I grab his arm and tug gently, trying to get him moving. “Ice cream sounds fantastic.”
Those giant blue eyes fix on me as his grin turns wicked. “What if I want to eat it off your naked body with a can of whipped cream and cherries?”
“Too far,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You always take it too far.”
“You said whatever I wanted,” he points out.
I realize I’m going to have to physically remove him from the couch if we’re ever going to leave. I stand, grab his shoes, slide them onto his feet, and then scoop him up into a bridal carry. “Negotiating with you is like making a deal with a demon.”
“A cute demon, at least?” He wraps his arms around my neck and flutters his lashes as I toe my own shoes on. I reposition him, throwing him over my shoulder and holding him securely by the backs of his legs.
He shrieks with laughter as we head out the door. “This isn’t how you handle your future bride!” he squeals, beating his fists playfully against my back and drawing a few amused glances from the neighbors. “I’m too cute to be manhandled!”
I swing him off my shoulder and set him on his feet beside the passenger door of my SUV. “You’re just cute enough to be manhandled.” I drag my thumb across his bottom lip, then give his ass a firm swat. “Now get in the car.”
The visit to the police station is shorter than expected, but not because of efficiency. Theo’s knowledge of Jesse is limited to the few details he shared during their dates, and we have no way of knowing what’s real and what isn’t.
Even the last name he gave might be fake, because Theo never saw his ID and never thought to ask.
The only things we know for certain are his first name, where he worked at the time they met, and the law school he claimed he was attending.
Theo hadn’t pushed for many personal details, and they always drove separately, so he never even saw Jesse’s car.
The cop who helps us is dismissive from the start. He treats Theo like nothing more than an inconvenience, questioning every part of his story with a tone that makes his doubt and irritation obvious. The treatment is causing Theo to second-guess himself and the decision to file the paperwork.
The decision I pushed him into.