Dante

He didn’t watch her leave for her room, but Dante knew he felt the anger and fear emitting from the girl. She was upset about the situation, yes, but removing the necklace wasn’t the solution.

It would only form a problem he would have to clean up.

She was in her room a while before she came out to shower. Dante had already removed his sleek coat and some of his larger weapons, though kept them within reaching distance in case anything happened. His clothes weren’t wet but torn, from the lower level demon he’d scuffled with.

He didn’t know how this demon had found out about Evanora and the pendant, but it only made his job a hell a lot more entertaining. With business going well at the bar, it had been a while since he'd actually seen any action and he had to admit he enjoyed the fight.

When he heard the shower shut off nearly ten minutes later, he half expected her to go back to her room, but instead she came out dressed in a comfortable shorts set, her hair wrapped in a white towel.

She stood beside the coffee table, clothes clinging to her moist body in a few places and making the grey fabric she wore go dark.

It was hard not to notice her flawless skin on one side of her body then the discoloration on the other and, again, it stirred something within him.

For some reason, he pitied the girl. He didn’t pity the humans and their easily damaged forms but just this one girl and her unfortunate run in with fate.

She noticed his gaze, and he saw the confidence leave from her face as she removed the towel from her head. She placed it around her shoulders to cover herself. She shook her wet hair out a bit, filling the space around them with the aroma of something sweet and floral. What didn’t stick to her face, covered her neck a little as she used her fingers to detangle the waves.

She stood there a moment, silent, and before he could ponder what she was thinking, she thanked him.

“For?” He cocked his head.

“My mom told me what happened that night.” She didn’t have to say which night she was referring to; he knew. “I don’t remember much and I just wanted to thank you for…um, saving my life then and I guess now, too. Even after my brother has been a complete dick to you.”

“A job is a job,” Dante stated simply. “I’m not going to let some ignorant human who doesn’t know his way around a card game scare me off.”

She bit her bottom lip and he knew it was to prevent a statement redeeming her brother.

“Regardless, I just wanted to say thanks for that, and not, you know…um, asking for anything in return?”

He chuckled. “And what could I have asked for that would have been nearly as valuable as your life?”

He realized the possible double meaning of his words after he spoke and saw her quick intake of breath and the smile in her dazzling eyes that didn’t form on her lips.

“Go. Get some sleep.” He told her, giving his attention back to the muted television.

“But…” she trailed off unsure if she wanted to finish her thought, and when Dante arched a curious brow at her she flattened her lips which rounded her already cherub cheeks. She clearly had a question or statement, so he told her to spit it out.

“No one is giving me any information on anything. Nothing of importance really? I guess?”

“Okay…” He failed to see how that was his problem.

Her brows rose with hope, and she scurried to sit on the little table in front of him. He couldn't help the way his body involuntarily leaned away from her, but if she noticed, she didn't seem offended.

“I have so many-”

“Questions. Yes.” Of course she did. Fan-fucking-tasic. “You get three.”

She scrunched her face, and with sarcasm asked, “Deadass? What are you, a genie?”

Dante smiled. “No, and now you have two questions left.”

Her eyes had widened then narrowed with her request, but now she kept her mouth shut tight until she could think of the questions she wanted to ask.

Because he found her expression…cute, he'd humor her. For a moment.

“Okay, um…” With a bouncing knee, she bit her bottom lip before staring at him with wonder, head tilting to the left. “Okay, cool. I know you're not a genie but what are you? How are you?”

This shocked him. He'd expected questions on The Society. It's factions. Hell, even the pendant.

But she wanted to know more about him?

“That's two questions, Evanora.” He joked but when her expression began to sour, he sighed. Strangely, he found it hard to deny her. “You know what I am. I told you when we first met.”

“Yes, I know but…” She leaned in, elbows resting on her thighs. Her towel shifted off her shoulders but she didn't seem to notice. He did. When she'd leaned forward it gave him a better view of the grey sports bra under her buttoned top. And the slight cleavage it created. “I don't know how to form this question. How did you-”

“Come into existence?” he supplied and when she gave a quick nod, he did the same in response. Giving a sigh, he weighed if he wanted to go into a history lesson, or worse, down memory lane. “My demon father courted my…Italian human mother. They fell in love. And I was, unfortunately, born.”

He heard her mumble that it wasn't unfortunate before asking, “Your father is the reason for…your eyes?”

“What? How they dazzle?” He gave her his best smolder and tried not to notice her nipples harden under her blouse. She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to disguise her arousal with annoyance.

“The color change, the blue?” She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes flicking down to his crotch for only a fraction of a second, and he realized he'd kill a hundred men to know what her real thought was. “How does that happen? The way you fight? It's-”

“Unnatural,” he supplied, cutting her off.

“Phenomenal.” She beamed with fascination, dropping her arms back to her lap and between her legs absentmindedly.

Eyes up, Dante, eyes up.

“I've seen anything so…graceful.” She continued and he tried not to let that go to his ego.

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Well, I've had centuries of practice.”

Her cognac eyes widened, the honey bursts within them shimmering with the light above them.

“Centuries? How-” she cut herself off, probably with worry of using her next question.

He'd give it to her.

“A little over three hundred years.” When she eyed him as if he were lying, he shrugged again. “I stopped aging when I was….” He had to think about that.“27…28 maybe.”

He grimaced with the memory. Most of the years after he realized his appearance was stagnant was a blur. He'd begun to spiral; he became angry and resentful. And a drunk.

“To answer your question.” He shook his head at her pointedly. “It happens because I tap into my demon essence. I don't try to do it. Most times it comes with consequences. But sometimes it just happens with my emotions…other times when I need the strength. And I try…not to get lost in it.”

He knew his eyes jaded over with those memories and he became like stone again. She didn't need to know how easily he was capable of murder and destruction.

“What happens when you get lost in it?” Her breathing hitched as she studied his face. The expression on her own wasn't fear, as he'd thought maybe his words would cause. Her eyes were tender, almost worried. For him.

“Hopefully you won't have to find out.” He forced a curt smile that he knew confused her. His sudden coldness. But it was for the best.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He didn’t want her getting too comfortable around him. He could feel himself getting sucked into her innocent demeanor. The way she wasn't afraid but interested in knowing him.

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her eye fucking him. He was sure her family had told her about his reputation with women. How they usually fell at his feet. But he didn't want that for her. Strangely, he didn't want to hurt this innocent little fox.

So he pushed her away, putting more bricks in the metaphorical wall between him and the world.

It was something that just couldn’t happen. Not only was she human, but she was a Keeper. And he knew that was one of the strictest rules their bosses held.

“Goodnight, Evanora,” he told her pointedly when she hadn't moved from her spot.

She stared at him for a beat, as if committing his face to memory, and he found himself doing the same.

Her thick black brows that were still a little scrunched with worry. The way the honey in her brown eyes had him captivated. There was a gentle sloping to her nose that rounded at the tip and her lush lips were the same faint rose that usually colored her cheeks when he'd make her flustered. And finally, he noted the tiny tawny rouge splotch underneath the left side of her dimpled chin.

Finally she gave a small smile, revealing a slight dimple near her mouth, above the mark. When she stood, walking past him, he kept his eyes ahead and did not sweep the rest of her body as he'd done in the alley.

She'd been covered more in her long church dress and he'd still had to fight the urge to kiss her with the way it clung to her assets. This pajama set, though, was giving him too much access to her; it toyed with his control.

Before leaving she thanked him again, surprising him. When he asked why, she shrugged her shoulders a bit.

“For talking to me like I'm an adult.”

He debated if he wanted to respond but did, pushing the boundaries again.

“Trust me.” He gave her a finale once over before sending her to bed. “You most definitely are not a child.”

She left him once more, and this time didn’t lock her door or resurface. After a few hours, Dante could hear the light snoring coming from her room.

Again, Dante didn’t sleep. He scouted the apartment and quietly pushed appliances back to their original positions.

He didn't tend to his wounds knowing they'd probably heal themselves eventually, they hadn't been too deep. His coat, on the other hand, would have to be sent off for repair.

When he heard Evanora’s alarm sound, he was in the living-room looking down at the once barren but now bustling street. With her windows closed it muted the city's natural hum of traffic.

She came from her room, hair a mess and clothes askew, and went to the bathroom. When she emerged she gave a grumpy mumbled ‘morning’ as she headed for the kitchen.

“Coffee?” She nearly shouted, though he was silently entering the kitchen behind her.

He declined, taking the wall that divided the kitchen from the living space so he could watch her. With her back turned to him, she gave a dismissive shrug.

Her long legs looked fantastic in her shorts and despite their length, the fabric defined the outline of her round ass revealing she didn't wear underwear to bed.

He watched her stand on her toes for a mug even though she was tall enough to reach the second shelf of the cabinet. She came back down on flat feet, ass jiggling with her slight plop, as she slid the cup under the single serve pod machine.

While it heated, she tapped her foot impatiently, running her hands through her hair as best as possible with her tangled curls. She'd obviously forgotten to wrap her unruly mane in her bonnet that he'd seen her in the first night and realized why she probably should. It was wild around her head, like a dark wavy and coily lion's mane.

Once the coffee sputtered in its completion, he saw her shoulders relax but not completely.

She didn't seem to be a morning person and her quiet grumbling was near comical.

From a jar on the counter, she pulled out a couple small creamers that looked like she'd pocketed from a gas station. After a quick stir, she turned to him. She leaned against the counter, eyes closed, and sipped deeply.

The blouse that matched her shorts was askew from her rough night. Its buttons had opened and only two remained in place under her bust but seemed to be fighting the good fight. Dante wished they'd surrender.

The blouse was open enough for him to see the darker grey sports bra underneath, revealing some nice cleavage. Her shorts were hanging from her delicious hips, just under the sweet, subtle swell of her stomach revealing the tawny scar that was near her bellybutton. He could see the scar was also on her chest, in blotches like an undiscovered map.

He wanted so much to trail his fingertips on her perfectly imperfect skin. To be the first to touch uncharted territory.

Her chest rose then fell with her tense shoulders as she sighed in content. The caffeine had finally started to hit her system, and she opened her eyes with a smile behind her cup.

“Buenos dias.” Her voice was sultry with her sighed greeting, though she probably hadn't meant it to be, and Dante had to work to keep his arousal at bay. Though she smiled it did not completely reach her eyes, which he noticed were puffier than usual. And the skin under her button nose was a matching faint rose tint.

He hadn't heard her crying in the night but she clearly had been. Perhaps the gravity of the situation had finally caught up to her.

He didn't mention it, not wanting to embarrass her, and instead forced himself to keep eyes on her face rather than her assets.

He lifted his brows with a smile he hoped was kind, but felt more devilish with the way his inseam was tightening. “Now it’s a good morning?”

She nodded while taking slow, careful sips. “I hate Monday mornings.”

“I can see that obviously.” He took out a cigarette but before lighting it, offered her one.

She quickly declined with a shake of her head and walked past him, mumbling a ‘no smoking in the house’. He chuckled darkly, lighting the tip while he went to stand near the window.

He watched as she began her day quickly, and by the time he’d finished his smoke, she was clothed and trying to manage her tangled hair.

She chose to wear a tiny mid-sleeved black dress that just barely covered the scars on her legs. The black fishnet stockings were just fancy enough to go with her black and red heels and not make her appear as a hooker. She'd decided her curls were too unruly and had straightened them. It was styled in a side part, to obviously hide her insecurities, and he wished she'd pull it back to show her gorgeous face.

She was feeling confident. Dante could tell by the way she held herself as she walked about the apartment, mumbling to herself and humming along to a song playing on her phone.

She was cute and…he liked it.

Not that it mattered what he liked, because he wasn't going to fuck her. He, unfortunately, had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

She's off-limits. She is. Off. Limits. He repeated this until it was a mantra.

The sapphire pendant dangled around her neck as she moved, and every once in a while, he’d catch her holding onto it. She’d gotten so accustomed to wearing it that she was actually protecting it.

When she finished with her grooming, she stopped behind the couch and stared at his easy leaning against the wall.

“You’re not going to be following me all day, are you?” She knit her brows, though he wasn't sure if she was skeptical of her question or his answer.

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s your parents job. I take night shifts.”

Some of the worst creatures came out in the cover of darkness.

She nodded, then grabbed her purse, but her hand hovered over the umbrella.

“You wont need it,” he told her when she looked over her shoulder. “It won't rain today.”

As they left the apartment and she turned to lock the door, she asked, “Do you, like, have control over the weather or something?”

“Yes,” Dante said while he walked with her to the elevator, a smug smile on his lips. When the doors closed and the elevator chimed, he continued, “It’s called the weather channel.”

He could see her smile in the reflection of the door. “Not everything I do revolves around demonic supernaturalism.”

She nodded as they walked out the elevator and through the lobby. It was fairly early since she needed to be at work by eight and he knew the bus she normally took came nearly fifteen minutes after seven. She was running late but she didn’t seem to care.

Dante, on the other hand, didn’t care too much about her being late. But he did not want to take public transportation.

Before Evanora could walk the few feet past his black sports car, he took her elbow gently to stop her.

There was a protest on her lips when she became unsteady from the heels, but she kept it to herself when she noticed his nod towards the car. His new barkeep exited the drivers side and handed Dante the keys while she just stood there, looking confused.

“Are you just going to stand there drooling?” he asked, rolling down the passenger window. “Or are you going to get in?”

She looked towards the boy who’d gotten out, and he eyed her with interest, which Dante tried to ignore until she got in. He'd find time to reprimand the Nightborne later for his lingering. Possibly even take his day-ring privileges.

Her dress rose as she sat and her thighs spread against his leather seat. This dress, he realized, was definitely going to be an issue today. He was just glad she'd be in the safety of the shop and far, far away from him.

He shifted in his seat to adjust the hardening of his dick.

They rode in silence, until she couldn’t hold back her question. Out of the corner of his eye, when he wasn't looking at the pattern of the fishnets against her thighs, he could see her mind working behind her own eyes and forehead.

“Why would you let me walk home if you had a car?”

She ran her fingers along the dark grey grain detailing of the door. The inside was the same sleek and clean black as the outside.

“Because I’m not your chauffeur.” He didn’t take his eyes off the road and she began to look out the tinted window of the passenger side. “Besides, I wanted to see how you’d do on your own.”

She mumbled under her breath how she’d been going home at night for the past two weeks, and even had snuck around finding said apartment without a hitch, but the first night she'd been followed by Dante the Demon Hunter, an actual demon showed up.

“Also,” he continued, ignoring her. “I despise public transportation.”

“Is it the transportation you don’t like or the people?” Her comment was a little snide and when he answered, he knew she hadn't expected him to.

“The people,” he replied, amused with her boldness. “Humans are far worse than demons.”

This made her look at him. “Please make it make sense.”

It was a moment before he answered her but it wasn’t due to the light traffic that was accumulating on the streets. Her face did that scrunching ‘what the fuck’ thing again and it had stirred something within him. He liked when she made that face. And liked it even more that he was the cause of it.

“Humans.” He looked at her once they reached a red light, her face not her thighs or the way the dress clung to her breast.

Jesus, fucking Christ.

“They have many sides and layers. Many layers one must peel back to reveal their true selves.” He moved his hands to express himself. “Demons on the other hand tend to be more…one dimensional.”

“Like you?” she asked with a doubtful scoff.

His mouth turned up a bit at the sides. “No, not like me. I am…something different all together.”

“But you have layers.” She nodded. “Just like humans do. You’re multidimensional or else you wouldn’t have helped me years ago or last night.”

They had reached her parents' shop and she exited before he could respond.

“So, I guess I’ll see you tonight?” she asked. Before she closed the door, she bent over and leaned in the car for him to hear her better. A car that passed them honked repeatedly, also probably noticing her ass in this fucking dress, and Dante tried not to watch the green coupe leave for its plate number.

She stuck an arm out to flip them off with a mumbled ‘asshole’ and an annoyed expression that eased back into an amused smile when she graced him with her attention again.

He hesitated, with his reply, taking a calming breath.

Finally, he did the only thing he could manage without pulling her back into the car and ripping that damned dress off her.

He nodded.