Chapter 8 Dante
Dante
No matter the situation, my wife is a gorgeous woman.
Stunning, even. Most of the time, the red flush creeping up her neck is due to the pleasure I bring her.
Most of the time, it means I'm about to dive balls deep into her glorious cunt.
Most of the time, it means that she might wrap her legs around my head in ecstasy.
Today is not that day.
Her chest heaves with furious breaths as she regards me with unbridled rage.
I'm an idiot, honestly. My calculated decision-making skills be damned—that's what was expected of me.
That is exactly how the future Dantalion was to behave.
But once I married Melody—and truly fell in love with her—all of that went completely out the window.
She's right. I'm wrong. It's as simple as that. Of course, I should have told her. Of course, I should have warned her. I'm not just an idiot; I'm a threat to her safety because I didn't warn her. Is it fair to blame Valencia's death? Is being distracted a good enough excuse? Scared?
Judging by the look on Melody's face? No.
"I can't believe you, Dante." Her lowered voice makes me hold back a shiver. I wish she were yelling at me. I wish she were screaming, trashing the cabin—anything but this cold calm. "I thought you loved me."
"I do! I do. Melody, please—I'm sorry. I am so sorry.
I swear to you, I love you more than anything on this earth.
I'd die for you. I'd kill for you—well, I'd kill more people for you—I'd give up anything for you.
I'd steal the Mona Lisa if you wanted me to.
" I can't control the words coming out of my mouth.
I mean every single one of them, truly, but I'm sure I sound more pathetic than reassuring.
Her fury is a beautiful thing. Her murderous anger drew me in like a moth to a flame when she picked me up on that back roads highway, all those months ago.
I adore it. I crave it. But when it's aimed at me?
For something I know I was wrong about? It hurts.
God, it hurts. And I only have myself to blame.
"I'm sorry, my love. I really, really am. "
"Prove it," she replies in that same cold, indifferent tone. "Prove it, Dante. Prove to me that you won't lie—whether telling me actual lies or omitting the truth—you won't ever lie to me again."
"Absolutely. I promise. What do you want to know? What can I tell you?" I sink to my knees in front of her, staring up at her face. I need her to look at me with love again, instead of anger.
"You can fucking start with everything you know about the Seraph and how Ella fits into this." She folds her hands delicately in her lap.
"Yes—of course. The Seraph, as I mentioned, have been sort of the enemies of the Goetic Consortium for centuries.
They fancy themselves to be the long arm of the law, as it were.
Centuries ago, the original Goetia fought actual wars with them.
Swords, cannons, muskets. The works. Nowadays, it's more subtle.
To the public eye, the Goetic Consortium doesn't exist. We are unrelated businesspeople, right?
" My knees are starting to hurt, but she hasn't given me anything other than that icy glare.
Fuck, I'll stay on my knees for the rest of my life if I have to.
"Right. Go on." Melody's flat tone feels like a dagger through my heart.
"The Seraph… well, you've heard of Interpol?
The Seraph founded Interpol in the early 1900s after a few centuries of simply charging and imprisoning GoCon's people when they could.
After presenting Interpol to the world, they found it's quite profitable to prosecute 'civilians.
' In the last, oh, several decades? The feud has taken somewhat of a back seat, but if they can fuck us over, they will.
" I grimace. "Which is where you come in. "
"So… it really didn't have anything to do with Charlie at all, right?
I just… I fell into Ella's lap, and she took the opportunity to fuck you by imprisoning me?
" The crease between Melody's eyebrows deepens as she works through the information.
I want to kiss it away and rub her temples.
I want to pull her into my chest and never let her go.
Unfortunately, she might stab me if I did either of those things right now.
"That's our best guess. To be quite honest, I didn't know—none of us knew, really—how high up in the Seraph ranks Ella is, until… all of this. And it seems like she's quite high. As in, the Beacon for the United States."
"Beacon?" She shakes her head. "Hang on. I'm going to need you to actually spell this out for me."
"Right, sorry, love. Each country or region, depending on size, has a Beacon.
They report directly to The Seraph." I smile weakly.
"The best approximation I could give you is that each of the Beacons is a senator.
And the Seraph is the Majority Leader, but there is no Minority party. Does that make sense?"
"Fuck, I guess." My wife heaves out a sigh. "And you really didn't think to tell me any of this until right fucking now?"
I cringe into myself. I deserve that. She is, once again, very correct. "I thought I was protecting you. Please believe me. But what I meant to do and what actually happened are two very different things—I was wrong."
"I like hearing you say that." She smirks.
"Really? I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.
Melody, I fucked up. I put you on the line—something I will never, ever, ever do again.
You're too important. You're my wife. I love you so much.
" My voice cracks as I profess my love, and I hate myself for it.
"I know this isn't the time, I know, but I'm so fucking mad at myself.
I'm mad at myself, and I'm murderously angry at Ella—the first time I told you I loved you was when you were in jail. "
She huffs a dark laugh. "Is that not what you were hoping for?"
"God, no!" I slap my hands on my thighs. "No, my love. I wanted… I wanted to tell you at your favorite restaurant. I wanted to dress well for you. I wanted to show you off to the world: Melody, my wife, my greatest treasure."
"You're doing a pretty good job at groveling. Keep going," she says with a mischievous smile.
I move to get up from the floor, but she shoves her foot into my chest and pushes me back down.
My whole body freezes, and I stay where she put me, like a good boy.
With ravenous eyes, I watch her dismount from the dining chair and stand over me.
There isn't any love in her eyes, not yet, but it's definitely not hate.
It looks more like malicious glee, and I try to stifle the shiver that runs down my spine.
"Please, love. I beg your forgiveness," I whisper, not daring to move another muscle.
"Yeah? Then fucking beg." She shoves her foot into my chest again, pinning me between her and the wooden cabinetry.
I'm fucked. My cock has horrible timing. The instant she touches me, he springs to life, trapped in the sweatpants I threw on before she woke up. I'm sure she can see every rigid inch of me. "Please?"
"Oh, you can do better than that." She digs her heel in. "Fucking beg, Dante. Beg and plead like your life is on the line."
"I'm so sorry, love! Please, please forgive me—I need it.
I crave your forgiveness. Please, you won't regret it, I swear.
I swear on my life. If… if I disappoint you again, kill me.
" A tear slides down my cheek, while a bead of precum leaks from my cock.
I've never been so aroused and so regretful in my life.
The emotions war in my chest, but I mean every goddamn word I say.
"Kill me. It would be my absolute honor to die at your hand.
I was wrong, Melody. I was so, so wrong.
You were right. You're always right. Please. "
She increases the pressure with her foot. I can see the strain on her face as she throws her whole body weight behind it—and then she releases. She lets me go. I drop to my hands, falling prostrate to the floor. Wrapping a hand around her ankle, I whisper, "Please, love. Please forgive me."
"Better." She leans down and pats the top of my head. "Keep working on it, and I'm sure you'll be my good boy again."
Good boy. I try to stifle the groan that rumbles in my throat, but I can't. Fuck. Oh, I'm so completely fucked. "I will. I promise."
"Good. Work on that. I'm going to take a goddamn shower." Without so much as another glance at me, she swaggers down the stairs.
"Fuck," I grunt, pushing myself up. My cock is still painfully hard.
"Oh, one last thing?" Melody calls up to me.
"Anything, love, I swear," I say as I scurry to the landing.
"Don't you dare jerk yourself off."
Fuck.
Roman won't look me in the eye. He refuses to look at Melody, either, but I'm fine with that.
Apparently, her voice carries in the concrete walls of the underground bunker—and all of the men heard her forbid me to touch myself.
I'm not ashamed to admit that my hand and I were intimately acquainted while Melody was taken away from me, but now that I have her back? I need the real thing or nothing.
The fact that she waltzes around our shared bedroom in next to nothing after her shower doesn't help matters. Every time I see her, god, I'm so tempted. She's incredible. She's everything. But if I want to be her good boy again—and I do, more than anything on earth—I need to follow her rules.
"How long do you intend to stay here, sir?" Roman plops down on the leather couch next to me with two coffee mugs. The caffeine starts to work its magic from the first steamy, hot gulp.
"That's a loaded question, Ro." I swirl the cup and watch the tiny bubbles dance on the surface. "As long as it's not safe to return, really."