Chapter LVI
LVI.
DANTE
From across the terrace, Dante watched Caelum spin Brynn through a waltz, their movements graceful.
Separate. Cordial. Untouchable.
It was the performance they'd both committed to for the investigation's sake—the distance that was supposed to protect her from becoming a target. He understood the necessity. Had agreed to it himself.
He took a sip of wine, the taste bitter on his tongue, and tried to focus on anything else. The political conversations happening around him. The orchestrated displays of unity. The subtle power plays between courts.
But his eyes kept drifting back to her.
Always back to her.
She crossed the floor, the crystal beading on her dress catching the light with every step. Twilight fabric shifting between purple and midnight blue. Starlight scattered across darkness.
His colors. His realm's aesthetic. The Forsaken Court wrapped around her body like an embrace.
She'd come here furious with him, determined to punish him, to prove she didn't need him. And she'd dressed herself in him without even realizing it.
The knowledge hit him somewhere deep in his chest. Made it hard to breathe.
She looked like she belonged among the Death Lords and their courts, not as a tribute or a tool, but as something powerful in her own right. She looked like what she was: descended from those who'd built the barriers between worlds.
And she was dancing with everyone except him.
He'd done this to himself. Kept her in the dark. Made choice after choice for her without asking. This was exactly what he'd earned.
The truth didn't make it hurt any less.
The dance ended with a graceful spin, Caelum's hand at her waist steadying her. He bowed over her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles in a gesture that lingered just a fraction too long.
She smiled in response.
Not the guarded mask she'd worn around Dante for days. The polite distance, the forced neutrality. This was warm. Unguarded.
His jaw clenched hard enough that he felt his teeth grind together.
He'd done this. He'd done this. He'd done this.
Vex approached before she'd fully stepped away from Caelum, offering his arm with that charming smile that always hid his true intent. Dante saw her tense, clearly remembering their last encounter.
But she still took Vex's arm after only a moment's hesitation.
Dante's hands curled into fists at his sides.
Vex's hand claimed her waist, pulling her into the dance. The touch was possessive, his fingers spread across the small of her back. Right where the fabric met the curve of her spine.
The bastard held her far too close. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured words that Dante couldn't hear, but could see the effect of. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, a reluctant laugh escaping her throat.
That sound cut straight through him.
Bright and musical and rare. He could count on one hand the number of times she'd laughed in his presence. Each one had felt like a gift, something precious she'd chosen to share with him.
Now she was offering it to Vex. Vex, who'd cornered her, threatened her, and put his hands on her against her will.
And Dante couldn't do a damn thing about it because he'd forfeited the right to protect her when he'd proven himself unworthy of her trust.
"You look like you're planning someone's funeral," Seraphina observed, materializing beside him with a goblet in hand. Her red hair caught the light, and her expression was one of amusement rather than concern.
"I'm always planning someone's funeral." The words came out rougher than intended.
"Mm." She followed his gaze to where Vex was spinning Brynn through another turn, his hand still splayed across her back.
The movement made the beading on her dress shimmer.
Made the fabric shift against her curves in ways that made Dante's blood run hot.
"Though usually not quite so personally.
Usually, you don't look like you want to tear someone apart with your bare hands. "
His shadows had begun to writhe around his feet.
Several nearby nobles edged away, recognizing the warning signs.
The music swelled, and Vex dipped her low. Too low, his face hovering inches from hers, his grip spanning her back with intimate familiarity. The neckline of her dress gaped slightly, revealing the hollow of her throat, the curve of her collarbones.
For a heartbeat, they stayed frozen in that pose, and possessiveness unfurled in his chest like something feral waking.
She was wearing his twilight. His starlight against her skin. His.
"Interesting," Seraphina murmured, her voice cutting through his spiral. "I don't think I've ever seen you this close to losing control in public. Not in all the time I've known you."
"I'm perfectly controlled." The lie rang hollow.
A crystal wine goblet on a nearby table developed hairline cracks with an audible sound.
Seraphina glanced at the fracturing glass, then at Dante's grip on his own goblet. His hands were trembling. He couldn't make them stop.
"You sure seem like it," she said dryly, taking a step back.
The song ended. Vex released her with obvious reluctance, his hand trailing down her arm in a final possessive gesture that made Dante's vision blur at the edges.
“You could always cut in,” Seraphina said, her voice neutral, though she gave him a knowing look. “Claim a dance like any other courtier seems free to do.”
"This is a diplomatic function." The words ground out between clenched teeth. "I can't show favoritism. Can't make it obvious that she's—"
Important to him. The only thing that had broken through the isolation in ages. The woman wearing his colors while she refused to look at him.
"Since when has that stopped you from doing what you want?" Seraphina murmured, swirling her wine with amusement at his predicament.
Before he could respond, another partner cut in—a warrior from Seraphina's court built like a mountain, all broad shoulders and protective instincts—one of her elite guards, a man who'd died in battle defending others.
And he held Brynn like something he wanted to keep.
The warrior leaned down to murmur something in her ear, his head bent close to hers. Whatever he said made her throw her head back with delight, exposing the graceful line of her throat. The laugh was unguarded, beautiful.
And it wasn't for him.
Dante's wine glass exploded in his grip.
The sharp sound of shattering crystal cut through the music and conversation. Several courtiers jumped, startled. Dark wine stained his gloves, dripped onto the marble at his feet. Crystal shards glittered among the spreading liquid.
He barely noticed.
All he could see was another man's hands on her skin. Another man making her smile. Another man earning what Dante had thrown away with his secrets and his arrogant certainty that he knew what was best for her.
"Reaper." Seraphina's voice was sharp now, cutting. "You're making a scene. People are staring."
He looked around, awareness returning slowly.
A wide circle of space had formed around him. Shadows writhed across the terrace in aggressive patterns, spreading outward. Frost was forming on the ground despite the warm night air.
Every conversation within twenty feet had died into silence. Nobles from various courts stared at him with expressions ranging from alarm to fascination.
On the dance floor, Brynn looked up. Their eyes met. The corner of her mouth twitched upward.
Then she turned back to her partner. She leaned closer to the warrior, letting his bulk shield her from Dante's gaze. Using him as a barrier.
The dismissal was clear and cutting.
His restraint snapped.
"That's it." The words emerged as a low growl, causing nearby courtiers to flinch. "I'm done watching."
He was already moving before rational thought could stop him. Political considerations, the investigation, and maintaining appearances. None of it mattered anymore.
Not when she was in another man's arms. Wearing his twilight. His starlight. His colors, while she gave her smiles to everyone else.
He cut through the crowd, and courtiers scrambled out of his path. His shadows spread before him like a wave, and the temperature dropped further with each step.
"Try not to kill my warrior!" Seraphina called after him, her tone more amused than concerned. "He's one of my favorites, and they're difficult to replace!"
The warrior noticed his approach first, his instincts recognizing a threat. To his credit, he didn't immediately release Brynn. Instead, he straightened to his full impressive height, easily six and a half feet of solid muscle, and positioned himself slightly in front of her.
Shielding her. From Dante.
As if Dante were the danger. As if Dante were the one who couldn't be trusted.
Except he was. He'd proved that when he kept things from her.
He ignored that thought.
"Evening, Lord Reaper," the warrior said slowly, his voice flat, though his posture said otherwise.
Dante's response was a low snarl that barely resembled words. His shadows reached for Brynn without his permission, curling around her ankles possessively, wrapping around the hem of her dress like they were trying to claim her back.
Brynn stepped out of the warrior's embrace, moving around him to face Dante directly. Her chin lifted, and her eyes flashed with challenge and anger.
Hells, she was magnificent. Even furious. Even looking at him like she wanted to tear him apart.
Especially then.
"Something wrong?" she asked, her voice carrying clearly in the sudden quiet that had fallen over the gathering.
Everything. Everything was wrong.
"We need to talk," he managed, his voice rough. The effort of not throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her away from every male who dared look at her was making his hands shake. "Now."
"I'm busy." She raised an eyebrow, her tone as frigid as the ice spreading from his feet. "Dancing. At a diplomatic gathering. Or did you not notice?"
The casual dismissal, delivered for all to hear, stung.