Chapter 16
DANTE
W hat the fuck.
What the ever-loving fuck?
Even three days after I stormed out of Ethan’s apartment, I can’t wrap my head around what happened. One moment I was thinking about making out with him on my homework, and the next we were arguing and I walked out.
Why did I do that?
After what I went through to get him, to make him realize what he wants and allow himself to have it and give himself to me…I just walked out and told him to figure things out?
Honestly, I still feel the same way. I want Ethan to figure out what he wants and understand that if he doesn’t want to do the ritual, he simply can’t fight this fight with me.
At the same time, I hate being away from him.
Does this mean it’s over? It feels over. It felt very final, but I’m not sure if I’m the one who ended it or he is, or if it was mutual.
I’ve been trying to distract myself for the last few days, trying not to look and see if Ethan texted me.
If he comes back, he comes back. That’s the whole point of telling him to figure out what he wants, right? If I’m part of that, he’ll let me know.
But, damn, am I really giving up so easily? If he just never messages me again, will I really leave him alone? The man I can’t stop thinking about? The man I finally felt something other than lust and pain with?
I bang my fists on my steering wheel, then lean forward and place my head against it.
“Such a fucking idiot,” I growl.
Me or him?
I’m not sure anymore.
It hurts. More than I thought I could hurt. More than I thought I could feel, after everything I’ve done and everything I’ve seen.
I don’t want to feel anymore, especially not this ice-cold emptiness in my chest.
As I sit in my car in the driveway of the family mansion, I look forward through blurry vision.
There are two ways I can go: to Ethan’s to watch him and see if he’s hurting such as much as I am, or somewhere else, somewhere familiar and comfortable in the most emotionless way possible.
If I go to Ethan, I might see that he’s better off without me. Selfishly, I choose the other way.
I drive until I reach the innocent and average-looking house in downtown Montcove. The lights are still on, shining through the gaps in the living room curtains. The porch light flicks on as I pull into the driveway. I don’t need to knock. All I need to do is get out of the car.
“Well, it’s sure been a while, Mr. Romano,” the man standing on the porch tells me.
“You know I hate that, Adrian,” I mumble as I get to the stairs.
“I know.” Adrian smirks at me. He stands there above me with a cigarette between his long, agile fingers. Adrian’s hair, rusty red and speckled with gray, is messed up by the breeze.
“So what are you here for, Dante?” he asks as he takes a drag.
“I need you,” I say simply.
He eyes me in the glow of the porch light and then nods, guiding me inside. I follow him. The door is closed, but not locked, behind me.
“You could have called,” Adrian says. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. He’s still wearing his work clothes—dress pants, shirt, and sweater vest. The style of the vest reminds me of the sweater Ethan wore to Tessa and Yvette’s ritual.
I swallow hard. “That would give me time to think.”
“Ah, I see.” Adrian steps closer. He’s shorter than me, but not by much, and skinnier and softer, but not as much as Ethan. His eyes are the same color, but not the right shade. And he’s older…quite a bit older.
I take my leather jacket off quickly and toss it to the side, not caring where it lands. Adrian rolls his eyes and picks it up, placing it on the hook by the door. He trails his fingers down the back of my neck.
I shiver, but it doesn’t feel the same.
“Don’t fuck with me. Let’s just get this over with,” I growl.
“Pardon me for wanting some foreplay,” he snaps at me, but then steps in front of me and puts his cigarette out on my bare forearm.
“F-Fuck.” The sound is low in my throat, the pain burning my arm igniting heat in my stomach.
I grab it from his fingers and toss it to the side, then grab him by the back of his hair.
“I still know how to rile you up,” he whispers.
“You know less than you think.” I yank him by his hair out of the entryway and into the living room. The next second, we’re on the couch and I smash my mouth against his.
I kiss him hectically, not caring if it’s too hard or too much. Though from his low moans underneath me and the way he’s trying to tear my clothing off, I think it’s fine.
Suddenly, I remember kissing Ethan like this, then having sex with him for the first time on the couch in the safe house.
I try to push it out of my head.
I’ve had sex with Adrian a dozen times since we met during my freshman year at the university. Since then I’ve figured out that the professor has a love for being dominated and used.
This doesn’t matter. It’ll be over quick, and then I can think about something else. I can stop feeling this pain.
Adrian gropes my bare chest when he gets my shirt off, and I grab his hands, pinning them above his head.
Just like Ethan.
“Fucking stop,” I growl to myself.
“Tell me what to do,” Adrian breathes. “Take me. Use me. Fuck me. Whatever you want, Dante.”
This man is ready. I could do anything to him. I could fuck him into oblivion, get off, and then leave.
However, as I grind against him, pin him to the couch, listen to him whimper…I’m as soft as I could possibly be.
My dick is so limp that it may as well not exist.
Everything I do makes me think of Ethan. Everything Adrian says reminds me of him, of the fact that these sounds, these touches…they’re nothing in comparison.
Guilt, frustration, and confusion fill me.
I push up off of Adrian and the couch, panting for air.
“What is it?” he asks, also breathless.
I shake my head and grab my shirt off the floor. “I can’t do this.”
“What’s going on, Dante?” he asks. I pull my shirt over my head as he sits up on the couch.
“I broke up with my fucking boyfriend, and I can’t stop thinking about him,” I say, my voice sharp with frustration. I zip and button my jeans and run my hand through my hair as I look at Adrian.
Adrian is flushed, and normally seeing a man all flushed and needy would really get me going, but all I want is to get out of here.
“Oh, sweetheart. I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend. I thought you were all about casual,” he says, looking at me with pity in his eyes.
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “Don’t talk to me like that. Like you feel bad for me.”
He sighs and folds his arms. “Why’d you even come here, then?”
I huff. “I thought I could make it go away, or you could,” I admit. “But you’re not him.”
“Not even remotely,” Adrian mumbles. He stands up and fixes his own clothing. “If you’re not going to fuck me, get out of my house, Dante.”
“Gladly.” I storm out of Adrian’s house, nearly forgetting my jacket along the way. I hear the door shut and lock behind me, and I know this is one bridge that’s burnt for good.
“You seriously thought having casual sex with one of your old professors was going to fix your problems?” Tessa asks me.
I glare at her from across the kitchen in her and Yvette’s condo. “It has before.”
“Sure, when your problems were being stressed and overworked and all you needed was to relax and get off. Casual sex doesn’t help with breakup pain. Trust me, I know.”
“You’re nineteen and already getting married. How would you know?”
She blushes. “You remember Nadine, right?”
“Yeah, your math tutor who was a couple grades above you,” I say nonchalantly as I stir the cup of coffee on the counter.
It’s silent. I look at her. She looks at me.
“Oh, damn. You were seeing her? I didn’t know that.”
She sighs. “No one did. I wasn’t ready to come out yet. We were together for six months. I know, when you’re fifteen it’s nothing, but I was really upset.”
“Who did you bang to try to feel better?” I ask, raising a brow.
Contessa rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t help, is my point.”
“You were actually able to go through with it?” I lift the coffee to my lips. It’s all I’m living on lately.
“Yeah, but I bawled my eyes out afterward and felt disgusting,” she admits.
I shake my head. “I couldn’t even go through with it. My dick was?—”
“Too much information, Dante.” Tessa puts a hand up and then takes a drink of her hot cocoa.
“I watched you and Yvette nearly fuck each other covered in blood, so I think we’re past all that,” I insist.
She shakes her head. “I still don’t wanna know anything about your dick.”
I snort and continue to drink my coffee. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about him.”
“Of course you can’t. You seriously messed up.”
“Me? He’s the one who doesn’t understand the ritual and how our family works,” I remind her.
“Okay, but he’s not used to this. He doesn’t come from a family like ours. To Ethan, all of this is brand new. He didn’t grow up being told and watching all of this since he was a kid,” she points out.
I scowl and look away from her. “I told him he doesn’t need to do the fuckin’ ritual, but if he doesn’t he isn’t part of this family. That’s just how it is.”
“He thinks that if he doesn’t do the ritual, he’s not important enough to you,” she tells me. “I mean, think about it. It’s like telling him that if he doesn’t marry you, he’s not really committed to you. He’s not your priority.”
“It’s just how this family works. You know that, Tess. They won’t accept him otherwise.”
She steps closer. “This isn’t about them.
This is about you, moron. He wants you to accept him.
To let him in. This family is changing, you know that.
It used to be that you had to be married in order to do the ritual and be a part of the family, but now you don’t.
Who knows what else is going to change? It doesn’t have to be this way forever. ”
“What do you mean?” I ask.