Dante was fucked.

It was okay when the princess was a beautiful monster. It started to get bad when she became a smart and funny companion. It got worse when she became a kind and decent friend. But the worst eventuality of all was now upon him: she was a beautiful, smart, funny, kind, decent woman who wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

She wasn’t in love with Maria and she felt no devotion to a betrothed she’d never met—and likely never would.

He could tell. By the look in her eyes, the pattern of her breathing, the pace of her heart. She wasn’t lying about those things. And the lover she’d had the night they’d met apparently hadn’t even crossed her mind when he mentioned it.

She had no ulterior motive when she tried to kiss him. She just wanted to. She wanted him.

She’d felt his cock stir as she pressed her ass into him and she’d turned around to kiss him. To see what else that cock could do.

An orgasm would be nice if you can manage it. Lunin, she had a mouth on her.

He would’ve managed. He would have pleasured her until her throat was raw from moaning his name.

But she didn’t know his name.

That’s why he’d said no. Bear couldn’t really offer herself to him in earnest because she didn’t know him. Any consent she’d give would be tainted. So he’d done the stupid, noble thing and refused.

Noble. He was ruining her life, whether or not he fucked her. The only noble thing Dante could offer Bear would be to return her to Hogard. Or wherever it was she wanted to go.

But he couldn’t do that. He’d consider it--likely would go through with it--if the consequences belonged to him alone. But he had Marnie to worry about, so it was out of the question.

Bear didn’t wake when he extracted himself from beside her just before the sun rose. He ducked behind a cluster of trees and wrapped his hand around his cock, imagining the mischief and desire on her face last night, the feel of her hand tangled in his hair, the way his fingers sank into the soft flesh of her hip.

An orgasm would be nice if you can manage it.

Dante felt a bit guilty that the orgasm he’d managed was his own.

#

“This is the last of it,” Bear announced as she tossed Dante some hard cheese, crackers, and jerky. She lounged against a tree with one knee propped up as she closed their pack, discarding it beside her.

They’d stopped in a shady grove for their midday rest after hours of hiking. Those were the first words she’d said to him since he’d denied her. He didn’t blame her.

“I’d already planned on stopping in a town tonight.” Dante needed a break from sleeping next to her after last night. As he wasn’t going to keep a fire going after Vissick so easily tracked them, and he wasn’t going to let her freeze, he’d decided he’d have to spare the coin for a room.

Bear and Dante ate in silence, though they passed the waterskin back and forth, sensing when each other needed a drink. Then Bear rose and Dante watched as she performed stretches that she often did during their rests, though he was sure her legs were getting stronger each day. He was mesmerized by her movements. Until she bent over, practically shoving her perfect ass in his face, and he’d had to look away. He coiled and knotted his hair back instead, preparing for their public appearance.

Their afternoon hike was quiet, too, and when the sounds of Thiro reached Dante’s ears, he welcomed the distraction the small town would bring. Bear could eat tavern food and drink ale and look at shops and not have to think about what he wouldn’t give her.

The inn here was also built atop a tavern. Dante didn’t bother getting a room before taking a seat at a table after scanning the patrons. The princess had excused herself to use the latrines, and when she entered the tavern after, she took one look at Dante and took a seat at the bar instead of joining him. That was fine. He could see and hear her perfectly well from here, despite the distance and people and noise separating them.

Dante ate and drank alone as he watched Bear chatting and laughing with the barmaid, his eyes flicking to the door with each new arrival. The princess had already eaten and was on her second ale when a man entered the tavern and took the seat next to her, flashing a smile to both the barmaid and Bear.

He was fae, his wings a slightly more tanned color than his skin. That was typical for fae as their wings were an extension of their skin, but usually darker due to more sun exposure. He had sandy brown, windswept hair that revealed he’d just flown in. Dante was secure enough to admit the man was good-looking. He was insecure enough that a pang of jealousy struck him as Bear turned toward the fae, smiling back.

“What’s good here?” the man asked.

“I’m just passing through,” Bear answered. “But I had the pork and it left me unsatisfied, so not that.”

The man chuckled. “Don’t you hate being left unsatisfied?”

Dante could practically feel Bear’s thoughts turn to his refusal of her last night, though she didn’t turn to look at him.

“I do,” she purred.

“Chicken it is. I’m Lance.” The fae held out a hand and the princess took it.

She didn’t offer him a name back, but that didn’t stop Lance from making conversation. And Bear didn’t seem to mind it at all. Dante watched and listened as the two talked and laughed and drank. For two hours.

Dante had nursed his drinks and was only finishing his second. He’d counted both Lance’s and Bear’s, and the latter had certainly had the most to drink of the three of them.

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“Are you traveling alone?” Lance asked after he had settled the bill, paying for Bear’s food and drink as well as his own.

Bear gave him a secret smile, her eyes hooded. “Why do you ask?”

Lance’s hand found Bear’s thigh and Dante stood up to throttle the fae, but paused when Bear didn’t retreat.

“I would offer my companionship if you were. As long as our paths would allow it. The road can be a dangerous place for a woman alone. The sky is much better.”

Bear made a sensuous noise of contemplation, and Dante sat down. She would welcome this man’s company, he realized. And why shouldn’t she? She was a woman. She had needs. And Dante certainly wasn’t going to fulfill them.

Lance obviously liked that noise. His hand ventured a little higher on her thigh. “Or I could offer you my companionship for just tonight.”

Bear studied the man. “You’d offer yourself to me that freely?”

“For a beauty like you? With your bright laugh and that desire to be satisfied? I’d get on my knees and beg.”

For fuck’s sake, she couldn’t possibly be falling for that bullshit. Dante lifted his mug to drain the last of it.

“Maybe you’ll have me on my knees by the end of the night, then.”

Dante choked on his ale loudly enough that several patrons turned to look at him, Lance among them. But not Bear.

“Third room on the left,” Lance said when he turned back, dipping his head to kiss the back of Bear’s hand. Then he climbed the stairs with a sensual look to Bear over his shoulder.

Bear didn’t get up right away. Nor did Dante. He wouldn’t until he saw what she was going to do.

She rose.

And walked to where Dante sat, thank Solin. Dante breathed a sigh of relief.

She stood before him with rosy cheeks, bracing her palms on the edge of the table as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’ve found my own room for the night. You have my word that I will make no attempt to escape and I’ll meet you in the morning.”

Dante’s heart sank as his anger rose. She was his target. She didn’t get to make the rules. “No. You’ll be staying with me.”

The princess sighed, pursing her lips. “You’re taking me to my death or worse--those were your words. You refused to provide me with what little pleasure I might still wring out of my life before that happens. You’re not going to deny me from finding it elsewhere.”

Dante stared at the princess and she stared right back, unyielding. She had a point. But that didn’t make it any more palatable.

Dante rummaged through their pack and extracted the small bag from Sartu, placing it on the table.

Bear looked at it, then him. “What is that?”

“Peppers. If you can eat them, I won’t stand in your way.”

The princess narrowed her eyes at him. Then her delicate fingers were opening the bag. She peered in to confirm that’s indeed what it contained before dumping the three peppers—such a deep purple they were nearly black—into her hand, tossing the empty bag at Dante who caught it with one hand without taking his eyes off her.

Bear plucked one and placed it in her mouth, biting off at the stem just as she had in the shop. Her breathing instantly hitched, but she continued chewing. And swallowed. Her hands clenched into fists, even the one that held the other two peppers, crushing them slightly. The smell of them assaulted Dante’s nose, the inner fragrance released. The smell alone was stinging his nose unpleasantly. Bear’s eyes watered.

The corner of Dante’s mouth twitched up. “Too hot for you?”

Bear didn’t answer as she ate the second pepper.

Red faced and sweating, she ate the third.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned and walked to the stairs. Before ascending, she paused and Dante heard her sucking air in and out of her mouth in an attempt to cool it, simultaneously fanning her face.

She wouldn’t make it until morning, he knew.

Dante watched Bear climb the stairs. He heard the knock and the sensual shared greetings filled with promise. He heard the door close and lock. Then he sidled up to the bar.

“I need two of the largest containers of ale you have. One in a pitcher, one in a container to go. And please wrap up an assortment of bread, cheese, dried meat, and fruit for me.”

The barmaid delivered the items and Dante paid for them without requesting a room.

He and Bear wouldn’t be staying here tonight, after all.

Dante carefully wrapped the ceramic jug of ale in the damn blanket that started all this trouble before packing it into his bag along with the food. He left the open metal pitcher on the counter.

Then he waited.

Not ten minutes later, Lance’s screams filtered through the floor.

The fae emerged on the landing stark naked, a hand on his dick. His wings were splayed and he half-flew, half-fell down the stairs, knocking into the wall and banister as he went.

“Enchantress!” he yelled, pointing up the stairs. “That siren burned me! I need a healer!”

The patrons of the tavern roared--some with indignation, some with concern, some with laughter.

Dante smiled to himself, rising. He picked up the open pitcher and approached the fae.

Lance didn’t retreat, apparently thinking the assassin was a healer. The poor man just looked at Dante with pleading eyes as he slammed the pitcher into the fae’s chest, sending some ale sloshing over the sides. The liquid slid down his splotchy red stomach and cock.

Apparently, the effect was immediate. The fae realized the ale nulled the pain and lowered the pitcher to thrust himself into it, using his hand to scoop and rub the ale over his appendage, breathing whimpered sighs of relief.

Dante knew Bear had already descended, his ears attuned to her footsteps even over the commotion taking place in the tavern. He turned to find her at the base of the stairs wide-eyed with her shirt askew over a shoulder, holding trembling, red-palmed hands in front of her. Dante grasped her wrist and ran, tugging her with him. He didn’t think they should still be there when the dust settled and Lance continued throwing allegations.

As soon as they were out of the tavern, Dante tucked an arm under Bear’s legs and hauled her into his arms. He ran until they were far enough away that he could no longer see or smell or hear the town. She didn’t say a word as he ran, just held her arms around his neck, which started burning with the oil transferring off her hands.

Surrounded by nothing but trees, Dante lowered Bear to the ground. He extracted the jug of ale from the bag and gently poured it over her hands. She rubbed her hands together under the flow, understanding.

“Did you touch anywhere else?” Dante set the jug down when Bear didn’t answer, placing his hands around her face, forcing her to look at him. “Does anywhere else burn?”

She shook her head, her eyes still wide, her mouth slightly parted in shock.

“Drink,” Dante commanded, handing her the jug. He wanted it to wash the fae’s mouth off of hers as much as the pepper oil, the scent of another man on his Bear knotting his stomach in a way he didn’t want to admit.

Bear obeyed and took a long, greedy drag, ale sluicing down her chin. She rubbed it around her face before wiping it clean with her sleeve. Satisfied, she turned her attention to him.

Her golden brown eyes sparkled in the moonlight, the rosiness of her cheeks still burning bright as a lingering effect of either the alcohol, pepper, or lust. Or a new effect of the anger that must surely be swelling in her.

Dante knew it was a shit thing to do. But she was his target. He couldn’t let her spend the night with another. Couldn’t risk her slipping out with the fae during the night, though he would have heard and stopped it if she’d tried. He’d decided picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder would make too much of a scene, opting for the pepper scheme instead. He’d never imagined that would have created an even bigger scene.

He let his neck burn from where she’d held him as he ran—a fitting punishment—as he waited for the explosion. For the yelling and tears and accusation.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, Bear laughed. Great, loud, gasping, heaving laughs that had her doubled over.

Dante’s lip twitched. Then he was laughing, too.