22. Dante
Dante
E motionally exhausted, I lie next to Melody in our bed.
She trails her fingers up and down my arms, paying special attention to my biceps, tracing the outlines of my tattoos.
Goosebumps break out across my flesh as she lightens her touch.
Her fingernails are magical. She doesn't seem to want to discuss the dinner, and I'm very thankful for that.
My mother is complicated. My thoughts and feelings about her are complicated.
Of course, I love her. But she always knows just what to say to get under my skin.
And the way she treated Melody as an afterthought really irks me.
I didn't miss a single sideways glance or barbed comment.
And the way she prickled up like a porcupine when I mentioned Mark… .
Of course, she's lonely. Her husband died.
But I don't trust that man, sleeping with a woman more than twice his age—a very wealthy woman at that.
His background is clean, of course. I wouldn't allow him near her if that were not the case.
Nor would the Goetic Consortium—she may not be the wife of the current Dantalion, but she holds many secrets from the last several decades.
I just don't like it. I don't trust it. Maybe he'll prove me wrong.
Melody trails her fingertips over my collarbone and down my chest, lower, lower, nearly to the waist of my underwear, before I gently remove her hand. She looks over at me, confused.
"Not tonight, love." I smile softly. "I just don't think I have it in me."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I'm sorry." She chews on her bottom lip, rolling it between her teeth. She really is adorable like that.
"No need to be sorry. Could you do me a favor, though?" I take a deep breath and gaze directly into her beautiful, rich brown eyes.
"Yeah, of course. What can I do?"
"Could you… hold me?" I close my eyes and internally curse. Of course, I want her to hold me, but it sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud. It's not becoming of a man of my station. It's not what we do .
But she rolls over, coming closer, and cups the back of my head. "Oh, honey. You don't even need to ask."
I turn over onto my side, and I feel her warm body envelope me, spooning me. Relaxation overcomes me, and I let out a contented sigh, snuggling into her gentle hold. She throws her leg over mine and pulls me in even closer. We lay together, breathing as one, and I feel the stress seep from my body.
This is wonderful. She's wonderful. She didn't ridicule me—she didn't scoff or look at me with any kind of disgust. Melody allows me to be me, every facet of me, and she accepts me.
I was so worried that the way my mother treated her would reflect on me— and we really do need to discuss that, but for now I just want her arms around me.
The scent of lavender and vanilla floats through the air. My eyelids are so heavy, and it feels so good to just be .
Beep. Beep. Beep.
My alarm clock jolts us both out of a deep sleep, deeper than I think I've slept in months. Grumbling curses under my breath, I slap the offending clock, and the noise blessedly stops. Rolling over to greet Melody, her sleepy gaze melts everything in me all over again.
"Good morning, love," I whisper.
"Good morning, babe," she replies.
Babe. Honey. She's only given me two pet names, but I'm feral for more. I want her to call me everything under the sun, as long as it's spoken with affection. Unfortunately, it's only Thursday, and I can't stay wrapped in her arms until the heat death of the universe. No, I have to get up.
She whines as I carefully extricate myself from her grasp. "Nooo! Stay?"
"I can't, love. Duty calls," I say with much less conviction than I'd like. My wife grumbles and rolls her eyes, pulling the covers up tighter around her.
"Fine. I'll just be here, all alone, all day. Without any delightful husband to shower with affection." She peeks out from the top of the blankets.
"That's a strong negotiation tactic. Are you sure you don't want to work with me?" I ask as I quickly dress myself.
"I never said I didn't. You , on the other hand, seem perfectly content to leave me locked up here all day." She sniffs. "Is the house arrest lifted, by the way? Since we went to your mom's house?"
Facing away from her, I scowl. I don't want to keep her locked up like a prisoner—not anymore—but I don't like the idea of her roaming around the city where anyone could catch her. Ella mentioned having wings everywhere, and I despise the idea of those wings swooping down to carry Melody away.
"On one condition," I turned to look her in the eyes. "You may leave the house, but you must have Helena with you. And you must carry your handgun."
"Can do!" Melody gives me a sleepy thumbs-up. "Have a good day at work, babe."
There it is again. Babe . It fills me with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth and… inner peace. It's lovely. It's love. I don't have time to reflect on it, though, as my phone immediately shatters the quiet morning air with the harsh siren of Roman's ringtone.
"Hello?"
"Sir, I apologize for the early intrusion.
I just got off the phone with Valencia—we have a situation with the Camden acquisition.
The seller is threatening to pull out unless we meet his new demands.
" Roman's voice is a little more strained than I'm comfortable with.
Valencia must have rattled him—I'll need to have a chat with her about professional communication with my team.
"Understood. I'll be ready in five." I hang up the phone and run my fingers through my hair.
Luckily, my night tangled up in Melody's arms has me rather well-rested.
There are no dark circles under my eyes.
In fact, I look very good. I smirk into the full-length mirror beside our dresser.
I'll properly thank my wife for the assistance this evening.
"What's going on?" Melody calls from the bed.
"Business nonsense. A seller is trying to get out of our contract. I'll take care of it, though." I quickly stride over to the bed and lean down, placing a gentle kiss on Melody's cheek. "See you this evening. Have fun. Be safe."
"You, too." She curls back in under the sheets and is quickly back to sleep before I can even leave the room. I have to tear my eyes away from the beautiful, peaceful sight before trudging down the stairs.
Roman waits patiently at the door, handing me a freshly printed stack of papers.
They're still warm. Following him to the car, I rifle through the redline statements as he opens the passenger door for me.
I'm still neck-deep in the proposed new terms when we pull up to my designated space in the office's private underground garage.
"This is… Roman, this is dog shit." I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose. All of those warm and fuzzy feelings from being in Melody's arms are gone.
"My thoughts exactly." He slams the car into park and sighs exasperatedly. "I don't understand it. They were practically willing to give the place away during our first meetings. What changed? What did they learn?"
"I don't know. But I imagine our lawyers will find out in short order." I fold the papers in half and tuck them under my arm as we approach the elevator. It feels like it's ascending slower than usual, and I huff out a breath, tapping my finger on the folded paper.
A gentle ding announces that we've finally reached the fourteenth floor, and Roman ushers me in front of him. The office is still locked, still dark. It seems we've beat everyone.
We flick on all the lights as I make my way to my private office, illuminated by the wall of windows and the bright morning sun.
An empty office building has the aura of a liminal space, like we're not supposed to be here.
Dust motes dance in the bursts of air from the ceiling ventilation. Most eerie of all is the silence.
There is no low din of conversation. There are no ringing phones. No typing on keyboards. No printers whirring. Strangest of all, no Valencia. She called this emergency meeting, all hands on deck, but we beat her here?
"Roman?" I call from my desk, powering on my computer. "Is Valencia working from home today?"
"Not that I'm aware of, sir. She insisted that we all meet as soon as possible to get ahead of this hitch in our plans." Roman pokes his head in the door, rubbing his eyes. "I'm going to brew some coffee. Would you like any?"
"Yes, please," I mumble as I scan through my unread emails. Strange. There's one from Valencia, where she forwarded the redlined contract, but the verbiage is… different. Valencia usually has a very professional air about her written communication. Greeting, explanation, respectful sign off.
This is missing… well, all of it.
D— Check out this bullshit lol -V
Something is wrong. It's not like her to behave in such a way. This email, the frantic call to Roman.
"Shit," I grunt. "Roman, we've been—"
"Sir!" Roman calls from the breakroom. "Sir, I found Valencia!"
Well, fuck. I race down the hall to find him staring grimly into the breakroom. A horrific smell assaults me as I arrive, and he silently points. The sight makes my stomach drop to the floor.
Valencia, or what's left of her, hangs from the ceiling fan.
The flesh from her back is separated from her body, forming grotesque wings.
Black, crusted blood trails from a raw slash across her throat, coating the golden heart necklace she always wears.
Another deep cut runs the length of her torso, from collarbone to crotch, and her intestines trail along the floor in a disgusting display.
"Oh, Valencia," Roman whispers. "This is blatant. This is cruel . It's the Seraph—it has to be."
"Yes, of course. The wings. God, Valencia, I am so sorry," I mumble to her corpse. Tears sting as they gather in my eyes, but I shake them away. "Office is closed, obviously. I'll tell the staff. I'll get… I'll get the Consortium to—to clean her up."
I lean back on the wall and find myself sliding to the floor, stricken by the sight. Valencia. She was innocent . She was my assistant, yes, but purely with business. She never hurt anyone. Sure, she got a little forward with me once, but I shut it down, and she never said another word about it.
Valencia was a rare kind of person. And Seraph killed her for it.