Chapter 11
Dante
I SETTLED AT THE CAFé table and opened the box containing the hot, dripping cinnamon roll. The sugary and sweet scent wafted up, and my mouth watered. I couldn’t dive in yet, though. I pulled my phone out and snapped a picture of the morning treat and texted it to Serenity.
Thought of you
Before I could put the phone away and dig in, my phone buzzed with her response.
You’re making me hungry, which is unfortunate since I have no cinnamon rolls here to make.
Here? Are you at home?
Yeah I didn’t go into work today
I instantly perked up at the news.
Perfect. Come join me.
The phone went silent. I waited eagerly for her response, but her speedy replies had stopped.
I could just picture her staring at the phone and trying to recover from the surprise of my request. Although, maybe she didn’t want to go out.
Maybe she didn’t feel well, which was why she was home.
I abandoned the text thread to call her, sipping on my hot coffee while it rang.
“Yes?” she answered sheepishly.
“Text me your address,” I said as I reboxed my treat and made my way back to the counter. “I’m ordering you a cinnamon roll and your coffee now.”
She was silent for a beat before she asked disbelievingly, “You remember my coffee order?”
My chest puffed with pride upon hearing her surprise.
Just to add to the thrill, I kept the phone angled at my mouth so she could hear me tell the register clerk, “A medium coffee with oat milk, two pumps of vanilla, sweet cream, and cinnamon sugar on top, please. Another cinnamon roll to go, as well.”
“Ha!” Serenity laughed into the phone. “You must have the memory of an elephant.”
“Only when it comes to the important things.”
She went quiet, and, again, I could picture a lovely flush blooming across her cheeks.
The mental image had a smile forming on my own face.
In reality, demons like me had perfect memories.
We could retain and recall information with ease, but she didn’t need to know that.
All she needed to think was that I cared enough to remember what she liked to drink.
“Address, Star,” I reminded her as I grabbed her order and placed it in a to-go container and bag with my own. “Text me your address.”
I, of course, knew where she lived, but that would look suspicious if I showed up without her giving me the information.
“Okay,” she finally responded softly.
A short drive later, I was pulling up in front of a small apartment complex.
I found her apartment easily, and when she opened the door for me, I breathed in her perfect essence and the sight of her.
Her silver curls were up in a messy bun, and she had on a lavender fleece sweatshirt and black leggings.
Fuck.
I couldn’t wait to taste her fully. I was determined to be patient in my pursuit of claiming her while destroying Bradley, but when I was face-to-face with her, staring into those smiling gray eyes and breathing in the crisp coolness of her, it got hard.
I wanted to give in to the beast inside of me and convince her to let me fuck her right then and there.
“Hey,” she greeted.
I held up the drink holder and the café bag with the cinnamon rolls. “I’ve brought gifts.”
She held the door open wider and gestured for me to come in. “Thank you. That’s seriously so thoughtful of you.”
I wasn’t being thoughtful. I was trying to further my plan, but I kept that to myself.
I started inside but froze and stared at her face. A large cut split open the bottom corner of her lip, and a bruise discolored the skin of her jaw, even through the make-up she wore. The sight made a small knot gather in my gut, and I frowned. “What happened to your mouth?”
Her gray eyes widened, and she gingerly touched the place in question.
She quickly ducked her head and laughed, “It’s so embarrassing, so I tried covering it.
I slipped in the shower last night and smacked my face right into the shower ledge.
Note to self: be more careful about spilling slippery soap in the bottom of the tub. ”
“Ouch,” I said, tracing the painful-looking purple bruise with my gaze.
“Yeah.” She gave a small, hollow laugh. “Ouch.”
I set the bag and container on her island while looking around the shared living and kitchen space of her apartment. “I love your place.”
I’d already seen her gothic and whimsical setup, but since she was unaware of my shadowy visit, I pretended to see it all for the first time.
And I didn’t mind scanning the room again.
Her place was really nice. She had some candles burning in a few spots, and the lights around her plush reading chair were on today.
A fuzzy gray blanket sat in the seat with an opened paperback resting on top.
A Korean drama played softly on her TV. The atmosphere was cozy, and I almost wanted to settle into the homey space she’d created with a book and no care for the world outside of these four walls.
“Do you want to sit down?” she asked, gesturing at her dark couch.
We moved to the sofa where I gave her a cinnamon roll and her coffee. I pulled out my own breakfast, and we dug into the delicious treat with her show creating an easy background noise.
“Your bookshelves are amazing,” I told her.
It was one of the most honest confessions I’d made.
Books and decor adorned the dark shelves.
Some books faced outward and were framed by flowers or lights.
Small figurines of dragons, skulls, ghosts, and even a demon stood by certain series.
The arrangement was clearly thought out and extremely pleasing to the eye.
I could sit and stare at it all without ever getting bored.
She brightened and looked at her bookshelves, too. “Thank you. My little library is my pride and joy.”
“I can definitely see why. You should come do this with my collection. Though, I warn you … I have an entire bookstore’s worth of books at my house.”
“What?” she gasped. “So many!”
I laughed and finished off my treat. “I’ve collected a lot of books over the years.”
She sat her own clean plate aside and hugged her legs to her chest while facing me and holding her coffee. “What’s your favorite book you’ve ever read?”
My eyes widened. I looked at her like she’d lost her mind.
“There’s no way I could answer that! I’ve read so many, and they’re all so different, you know?
Each is a different adventure, a different life, a different tale.
Some are dark and others are meant to inspire and encourage.
To me, a lot of them are priceless because of what they offer a person like me. ”
I snapped my mouth shut, realizing I was babbling.
That never happened, but I also never had someone to talk to about my love of the written word.
The guys, my closest companions for the majority of my long life, weren’t readers.
They all had other interests, which was fine.
Books and reading were my thing, just as music was Zagan’s, ballet was Perseus’s, adventures was Xander’s, and killing was Coldin’s.
“I love that,” Serenity replied softly. Her lips lifted ever so slightly, and she rubbed mindlessly at a tattoo on her wrist. “Books really are a magic of their own. You can go anywhere, be anyone, do anything. I can live a thousand different lives in a thousand different stories, all with the flip of a page.”
Spying the design, I gently grabbed her left hand and pulled her arm closer to study the tattoo of an open book with magic bursting from its center. “It’s beautiful. Is that what this tattoo is about? The magic within the pages of a book?”
She watched my thumb trace the ink depicting sparkles soaring out of the tome. “Yeah,” she answered roughly. “It’s about the power of books.”
My thumb moved over the tattoo, and there was no missing the slightly raised flesh beneath the design. She pulled her arm back before I could really feel what it was, though I suspected the cause of the hidden mark.
I sensed her nerves as she tucked that hand between her bent knees and torso.
She guarded it, or rather, guarded the secret it hid.
I studied her and quickly gathered that my star harbored a darkness of her own.
Questions filled my head. What plagued her mind on those dark days? Did she, too, find peace through books?
The thoughts furrowed my brow. I didn’t want to relate to Serenity.
I didn’t want to see something in her that called out to me, because that wasn’t what I was doing here.
This was a play to belittle and dethrone a man who’d put himself on a pedestal.
This wasn’t an actual search for a friend who understood me and my fucked-up heart.
She cleared her throat and found my eyes again. “Okay so you don’t know your favorite book ever. What about your favorite book this year?”
Thankful for the redirection in conversation, I leaned back. “That’s easy. Ice and Brimstone by SC Draven.”
Her jaw dropped, and those gray eyes sparkled like twin stars. “R-Really?”
“Yeah. By the way, I finished book two last night. Can I just say … What the fuck? That cliffhanger is unacceptable.”
Serenity laughed, and I hated the way the sound warmed my blood. I hated how I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her bruised smile.
“I warned you,” she teased. “Thankfully, book three is almost out.”
“Don’t forget. We’re still going to the author’s signing on release day,” I told her.
“I’d like to give SC Draven a piece of my mind.
I mean, really? You’re going to leave us hanging with Ember being kidnapped by the very kingdom she’d managed to escape from?
Brutal, man. I can’t wait for Krail to kill all of them for taking her.
You don’t fuck with the morally gray man’s lover. It’s a death sentence if you do.”
“I’m definitely a fan of the villain getting the girl,” Serenity sighed dreamily. “They deserve love, too.”