Dante let the princess walk ahead of him, though he instructed her where to go as they wound through the trees and streams deep within the great forest. From how she winced as she stretched her legs after lunch, he knew she needed a break. But these first few days would be the most treacherous. If they were going to get caught, it would likely be now while their trail was fresh. Sartu would offer that break, but until then, he would let her set the pace.

He was downwind from her, and she had removed her cloak, affording him a view of her backside as he trailed behind her the entire afternoon. As the slight breeze of the day wrapped her scent around him, he couldn’t help but think it fitting that someone with that ass smelled of peaches. And immediately forced his eyes away from it, the tenth time in the course of three hours he’d done so after finding himself staring at the way it folded and unfolded over the back of her thighs with each step the princess took.

She had thanked him when they stopped for lunch. Twice. And offered him berries. So the monster had manners. Still, she was too ignorant to know not to use them on a captor. A man who would just as soon kill her as accept her gratitude or offerings.

The princess had appeared to him unguarded in the streets of Hogard. And now she was being the portrait of obedience. This was certainly going to be the easiest money Dante had ever made. All three hundred thousand golds of it.

The princess stumbled on a rock, and Dante was quick to grasp her waist before her knees smashed into the other hard stones jutting out from the path. Dante had pointed out a hill with good coverage and a good vantage point for overlooking the forest below and had only instructed her to head there to make camp tonight. She had chosen to take this steep path covered with sharp rocks when there was a much easier route not a hundred yards away. The princess didn’t even know how to walk through a damn forest correctly.

Dante’s fingers pressed into her soft flesh as he steadied her. The princess gripped a nearby tree with one hand, and pressed her other upon his at her waist in an attempt to regain her balance. Her palm was warm and moist from exertion and when it began to slide over the back of his hand, her fingers interlocked over his for stability. Her breath caught at her stumble and the sudden jerk of her body being held upright. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, and the sunlight hit her brown eyes, lightening them to flecks of burnished gold. They were beautiful, really. She was beautiful, really.

The most beautiful creatures in nature were often the most deadly. Too true, in her case.

Dante ripped his hand away, and she stumbled again before raising that rejected hand onto the same tree as her other one to steady herself.

“Why don’t we follow that path, Princess, before you go and hurt yourself?” he said, pointing to the much less steep and far less rocky one.

She nodded pitifully and pushed herself off the tree, holding her arms out for balance as she stepped hesitantly over the rocks. She nearly slipped again and, rolling his eyes to himself, Dante walked sure-footed to her, offering her his arm. The princess glanced sidelong at him for a moment before taking it, grasping tightly. “Thank you, Con.”

Con. What a ridiculous name.

Though he could see the merit in assigning one another false names. When they were around others, he certainly couldn’t refer to her as Princess or her given name. Not that he’d ever once let himself call her by the latter. There was something about admitting who his companion really was that made him skirt away from even thinking it.

He wasn’t sure if it was out of his hatred. As if he might actually kill her, Sol’s wrath or no, if he thought too long about the woman next to him. Or if it was out of wanting to avoid admitting she was an individual, a person. Someone with not only a name, but friends and family and a life. His job always required ignoring such things.

If he were to name her, it would surely be Bear, for how unbearable she was. That or Curves, though he wasn’t enough of a brute to reduce a woman to nothing but her sex appeal. Not that he’d admit that the princess’s luscious curves were appealing. Admitting she was beautiful was one thing. She was utterly, perfectly, objectively beautiful. But appealing? Not with her history.

They made it past the rocks and the princess released his arm, jumping off of the last rock into the dirt below. She looked slowly up at him from under her eyelashes. “Thank you, Con,” she said again. Her voice was lower, slower. Seductive.

Dante blinked at the realization. Bear was playing him. She chose the rocky path on purpose. She slipped intentionally.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He would be impressed if he wasn’t too appalled thinking of what she’d used such tricks to accomplish before.

He didn’t call her out on it. He wanted to see where this went. Did she have an escape plan, after all? Seduce him in the hopes that he’d just let her go? He would play along, letting her believe what she wanted, if only to find out her intentions.

He swallowed audibly, purposefully, letting his gaze fall to her mouth. Her lips did look inviting, especially as they quirked to the side, obviously feeling triumphant at the reaction he was giving her.

“My pleasure, Princess.” He kept his voice low and smooth, careful not to show the distaste her title usually left in his mouth.

With another long look, she prowled ahead. Her movements were far more graceful than they had been, and she swished her hips slightly with each step, as if she knew exactly where his eyes had been glued all day, and she wanted to give him a show. Dante swallowed again, though Bear was now too far ahead to hear it.

After they had eaten more rabbits, drank from a nearby stream, and Dante had made another bed, the two settled down for the evening. He didn’t bother to tell her to go to sleep, though darkness had fallen.

A chorus of howls issued from the surrounding forest. Though the wolves were too far off to be of concern, Bear visibly shuttered. No doubt part of her ruse. Dante humored her. “You’re safe with me, Princess.”

Her eyes shifted toward him as she wrapped her arms around herself, sitting on her bed across the clearing. With his heightened eyesight, he could make her out in the dark, though she likely could only see his silhouette. “You’re rather kind for an assassin.”

Dante leaned into the role he was playing. “It’s easy to be kind to a woman as beautiful as you.”

She unfolded her arms and began tracing absentmindedly on her thighs--a trick to guide his attention there. Bold of her, when there were many under Sol’s employ who would not restrain themselves once they decided to focus what lay between them. Lucky for her, for them both, Dante was not one of them. Not with Marnie holding so much of his heart. He could never hurt a woman in that way.

“Even with my…body count?” She was trying to be soft, seductive again. But there was an edge to her tone. Just as when she had sounded genuinely sorry to hear of Carson’s passing, she now seemed haunted by Dante’s claim that she had taken numerous lives. Was that a trick, too?

Dante didn’t answer.

Bear cleared her throat. “You said your brother was long dead. When did he die?” Her voice was still soft, but no longer seductive. Just concerned.

Maybe because of that, Dante answered. “Fifteen years ago.”

“I was…” Bear paused as if calculating, but it lasted longer than the simple math should have taken. “Seven.”

Seven. That made her only two years old when his parents were murdered. He’d never thought of it like that. His parents were dead because of the princess. It was a fact he’d held in his heart for so long, he never considered the logistics. He’d blamed a toddler for their deaths. But did her age make it any less true?

“You didn’t kill my brother.” That was true, though he hated to admit it. His parents were killed in her name, but not Carson. Dante believed there was a chance his brother would still be alive if he hadn’t had their responsibilities thrust upon him. But there was no sense in considering what-ifs or could-have-beens. It was a freak accident that killed Carson while he was working to feed an extra mouth he shouldn’t’ve had to. “No one was to blame but the river water that filled his lungs when the bridge he was traveling on collapsed.”

Even across the clearing and in the deepening darkness, Dante could sense Bear’s relief by the slight dipping of her shoulders, the barely audible expulsion of breath. She couldn’t know that he could see and hear such things. It had to be genuine. She didn’t want to be a murderer. No more than he did. Fuck, he didn’t like that realization one bit.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know why she bothered to say it again, even as he had just told her she was not at fault. But Dante supposed it was better than her saying she was glad to learn Carson’s blood was not on her hands, though she clearly was.

Bear uncrossed her legs and stretched out on the bed. “You’re very good at making comfortable sleeping arrangements in the woods. Do you camp out often?”

“When I need to.”

“Why don’t you make yourself one?” Bear laid down, running her hand over the interlaced twigs.

It was a bit annoying to collect the twigs for the beds. They had to be just right. If they were too small, they’d snap uncomfortably as one slept. If they were too large, they’d be hard and unyielding, digging into one’s body. They had to be supple. But that’s not really why Dante didn’t bother to make one for himself. “I don’t need to be comfortable. I need to keep an eye on you.”

“I wouldn’t dare wander the forest alone, Con. You can sleep.”

“You’ve already tried to kill me once. And threatened to rip my balls off.”

Bear laughed, a bright sound that fluttered through the air like a butterfly. “You mean you have to keep an eye on me because you’re scared of me hurting you? And here I was thinking you were only afraid of losing me.”

Was her laugh part of her plan to seduce him or genuine? He couldn’t tell, though he wouldn’t mind hearing it again either way.

Wolves howled again in the distance, and Bear stiffened. Her fear of them, Dante decided, was real. “Sleep, Princess. I won’t let them get near us.”

“I believe you,” she said, curling on her side and tucking her cloak around her. “Goodnight, Con.”

Her trust in him was surely part of the ruse. Dante waited until he was certain Bear was sleeping deeply, as evidenced by her tiny snores, before he let himself close his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how long he slept, but it was still dark when the smell of Bear’s blood woke him up.