Chapter 19
nineteen
DANTE
I was in over my head.
And still silently thinking about everything my mate had just said to me while I followed her through the mansion.
My hunger wasn't helping me think more clearly.
Neither was her obvious hurt.
She slipped into the kitchen, her legs much more wobbly than they had been a few days earlier.
"What are you doing?" I asked, as she reached the fridge.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm hungry."
"I'm still taking you to breakfast."
"I'm not going."
"You're going," I said firmly.
"I just told you I'm not interested in doing things that will lead to me developing feelings for you. I'm not going to a fancy restaurant you probably own while you look like that and I look like this." She gestured to me, then to herself.
She wasn't necessarily insecure, but she definitely wasn't secure. Jazz was right about what I'd done and said not being enough to show her that she had nothing to worry about.
I slipped my phone out of my pocket while she was leafing through the leftovers and groceries inside. There wasn't much. Her next delivery was scheduled for that night.
I pulled up the page for the restaurant and put my phone in her hand before striding back to the closet.
Obviously, I had fucked up in more ways than I had imagined, but there was one thing I could fix.
And fixing it would give me time to keep working through what she'd said, anyway.
By the time I rejoined her in the kitchen, I'd gathered my thoughts a little. I found her leaning up against the cabinets, flipping through pictures from inside the restaurant.
"Do the waffles really look like that?" she asked, finally looking at me. Surprise lit her eyes as she took me in, then immediately refocused on the screen.
"I don't know. I've never been. It looked like something you'd enjoy."
Her cheeks reddened slightly. "Yeah. It kind of does. But putting on sweats and taking me out to eat at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant doesn't erase our problems."
"I never said it did."
"It was implied."
"It wasn't implied, Ophelia. And for the record, I don't think your assessment of me and our situation is accurate. Or fair to either of us."
The flush on her cheeks spread down her neck. The only time I'd ever seen her blush like that was when I was between her thighs. Even with my current hunger and uncertainty, the sight made me instantly hard.
"I'm not arguing about it," she finally said.
"Neither am I. Now, get in the car. I'm buying you waffles."
"This will only work once," she warned, already making her way to the car with steps that weren't as reluctant as she was trying to seem.
She was mad, and she was hurt.
I'd fix it.
And somehow, I'd fix us too.
It was the only acceptable outcome.
Everything else would have to take a back seat, because she had a point about me putting other things first.
"Alright," I said, though I knew it would work again. If there was one thing I knew about my female, it was that she was a sucker for good food.
"I'm only going for the waffles," she added.
I hoped that I'd eventually make her like me enough to come along for the company, but we weren't there yet.
"Okay." I held her door while she slid into the passenger seat of my car, looking far more comfortable in the vehicle than she was willing to admit she was. I noticed her nostrils flare as she breathed my scent in, too.
She wanted me, instinctively. At least I had one thing going for me.
I closed the door behind her, and took my seat. I didn't bring up our conversation again until I was two minutes down the road, so she couldn't throw her door open and leave when I started talking.
"You said I spent the last month forcing you to adapt to my lifestyle," I said.
"I don't want to talk about this."
"You don't have to. I'm going to talk about it."
She sighed. Loudly.
"If I forced you into my life, it would look a lot different than this.
" I gestured between us. "You'd be living in my room in the demon royals' mansion right now.
You would've attended the fight that earned me my crown back, and the five challenges that have followed it.
You'd be at my family's dinners. Schmoozing.
Making friends with my friends. Going with me to the charity gala last week, at the very least. I've been doing all of it alone, which is far from ideal. "
Her jaw clenched. "You forced me to move out of the house I own and replaced a bunch of my stuff."
"With nicer stuff. In a nicer house. Which you love."
"The old one was mine. With no debt, and no strings attached."
"So is the current one."
She shot me a look. "You own it."
"You own it, Ophelia. I put it in your name before I moved you in. That was one of our errands. It's your house; it's just nicer than your other one, friendlier to your magic, closer to royals' mansion, and closer to the prison."
Ophelia looked away. "You never told me that."
"I assumed you would see the folder of paperwork on the kitchen countertop. Obviously, I should've said something."
"I don't like paperwork."
"I can see that, now. Can we at least agree that I didn't force or manipulate you into my life the way you claimed I did twenty minutes ago?"
"Yes. We can agree on that," she said grudgingly.
"You asked what a mate bond means to me," I said.
"You didn't answer."
"I was thinking."
"You and your thinking," she muttered under her breath.
"My parents were obnoxiously happy and in love nearly from the day they met. When I started dating, I couldn't settle for something less. Even after losing them. I figured I'd never find the right person."
"Your chance of finding the right person is long gone, now."
"I don't want the right person. I want you," I said bluntly. "I have, since I saw you in the prison."
She scowled. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying."
"You don't even want to spend time with me, Dante. You—"
"Stop putting words in my mouth. Being busy with work doesn't mean I don't want to be around you.
It means I'm busy with work. And for the record, I was giving you space on purpose.
You told me you didn't want me around. If I thought you were interested in having me nearby, I would've made myself less busy. "
She opened her mouth to argue.
Then closed it.
"After nearly losing you to the prison, I'm done giving you space.
We're going to figure out a way to merge our lives, whether you like it or not.
I'm not accepting less. Not anymore. We can talk about how to do it over breakfast, or we can put it off longer, but you're not getting rid of me again," I stated.
She let out a long breath. "This situation is such a fucking mess."
"We can agree on that."
"I still need to figure out what to do about the penitentiary," she added.
"We'll figure it out in a few days. After you've had time to recover."
Ophelia nodded slowly.
There was a moment of silence between us. It was slightly more comfortable.
"You went to a charity event alone?" she finally asked me.
"I did. Jazz went with me, but she and River were both basically overrun with admirers, so they left early. It was strange."
She wrinkled her nose. "Light angels have this allure about them. People are always drawn toward them."
"Dark angels do too."
"Fallen," she corrected.
"You didn't fall. You jumped."
She gave me a look. "Calling me a dark angel still isn't accurate."
"It's the opposite of light, isn't it?"
"Technically. But it sounds... neutral. Being fallen isn't neutral."
"Then what is it?" I asked.
"I don't know. Evil, I guess."
I gave her the same look she'd given me, before refocusing on the road. "No magic is innately evil. Light isn't good. Dark isn't bad. You're making assumptions about yourself that aren't accurate, Ophelia. Am I evil because of my shadows?"
"Of course not. They're a part of you."
"Then neither are you."
"Your shadows don't hurt people," she pointed out.
"I've killed with them before, so they're just as capable of violence as your magic is."
"My magic can't do anything good. If I don't create it with some nefarious purpose, it creates its own."
"You built a prison that kept hundreds of violent, psychotic immortals away from civil society for a century. That's something good. The fae tried and failed to kill some of those immortals. Remember Redd?"
"The dragon shifter?"
"Yeah. He lost his temper and killed over a hundred immortals in a matter of minutes, because someone made his food wrong. Even Merrily's magic couldn't take his life. Without your penitentiary, a lot more people would've died. And that was only one of the prisoners."
"Well, my penitentiary also imprisoned people who didn't deserve it. Like you." She gestured toward me.
"River told us when we got there that the prison had been created by a seventeen-year-old girl who was trying to protect herself when no one else would.
It was the same introduction that he gave everyone who was unfairly imprisoned.
He told all of us to blame him, and whoever had thrown us in here. Not you."
Her gaze jerked to mine. "He said that?"
"He did."
"River?"
"Yeah."
"Fuck." She sat back in her seat. "I thought about going in and getting him out, a long time ago. He wasn't our dad. He didn't go through what I did. I just… couldn't."
"He understands, Angel."
"He can't."
"He can try."
She bit her lip.
I pulled into the parking lot. After the car had stopped, I brushed my hand over her knee. "Watch how the people inside respond to you. You're just as magnetic as River is. Maybe more. Some of us vastly prefer darkness to light."
She unbuckled her seatbelt. "When you're wrong about that, you're buying me ice cream."
"When I'm right, you owe me a kiss."
"You can bite me, instead."
"That's not the deal."
"Fine." She opened her door at the same time I opened mine. "You have no chance of being right, but if you are, I'll kiss you."
We met at the hood of the car. When I offered her my elbow, she took it. That felt like a victory.
"It's weird to see you in a t-shirt," she whispered, as we walked through the front doors of the restaurant. It was busy, but not packed.
I could see two open tables, and I'd already made sure there was a booth waiting for us. It was tucked away near the back, so Ophelia would feel like she had a little privacy.
"You weren't comfortable with my button-down." I spoke into her mind.
She jumped a little, but didn't tell me not to talk to her that way.
Another victory.
We walked up to pair of hostesses who stared at me for a beat. They looked at Ophelia, and stared for much longer.
She stiffened a little.
I fought to stop the curve of my lips.
She didn't go out in public often enough to really notice the way people reacted to her. Now that I'd pointed it out, she would.
"Dusk. Party of two." I held up two fingers.
One of the hostesses elbowed the other one, and the one who'd been elbowed cleared her throat. She waved us after her, and we followed.
Ophelia eyed the first pair of male immortals we passed. They stared at her directly.
I resisted the urge to step in front of her, or make it clear to them in some way that she was mine. It was a ridiculous urge, and she needed to know how much people were drawn to her, so I suppressed it.
It was the same with every other table we passed, regardless of the immortals' gender or sexual orientation.
Ophelia finally spoke to me mentally as we neared the back of the restaurant. As expected, she didn't acknowledge anyone's attention.
"I'll try to adjust to talking to you this way. I can admit that it has its uses," she said.
"It's convenient, and I like the way it feels," I agreed.
"What? Why?"
"Not everyone despises feelings of intimacy, Ophelia. It's not a crime for me to enjoy feeling close to you."
She slid into the booth the hostess gestured us toward. It was big enough to fit four people.
After a beat of hesitation, I took a seat beside her on the bench, instead of across from her.
She looked at me.
I looked at her, too.
The hostess handed us menus before she walked away.