Page 48 of A Betrothal So Bloody

I am so fucked, why am I staring at his arms while he’s baring his soul to me?

“It was a century ago,” he says. “You’d think the guilt would fade, not sharpen. At least if I’m human again, I have a guarantee that the pain will end one day.”

“You blame yourself?” I tilt my head, trying to catch his eye. “It’s not your fault they were sick.”

He hesitates, then laughs bitterly. “Look. I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” When I don’t budge, he slowly looks me up and down, a wolfish smirk grabbing hold of his features. “Unless you’re desperate for a cuddle. Ever slept with a cock pressed against your ass? Of course you haven’t. I’d be happy to—”

I slap him across the face. Gritting my teeth, I get to my feet and stagger back, putting space between us.

Touching his reddened cheek, Dante chuckles. “Look at you. Doesn’t take much to make you blush, does it? I’d say I’m surprised, but...”

Glowering, I drink him in—contemplating his lewd grin. Here, illuminated only by the faint, lingering glow of the oil lamps by the bedside, I suddenly see it for what it really is. A shield. That’s all it is—a silly shield that helps him take control and power back the only way he knows how.

“Would you do us both a favor and stop doing that?” I snap. “You can play the whore all you want, but I can see right through it.”

“Trust me, my whorishness is genuine.”

“You’re lonely.”

His smile freezes. My words may as well be a blade splitting the air for the way he goes statuesque.

“You don’t know me.” Gone is the laughter, his voice graveled with warning.

“I don’t need to,” I scoff. “Anyone who looks at you—actually looks at you properly—can see from miles away that you’re terrified of being alone yet too cowardly to do anything about it.”

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees like he might follow through and pounce. “You are an ignorant little girl who has barely seen the outside of a nunnery. You cannot begin to understand what true freedom tastes like after nearly a hundred years.”

“Tell me, then! You’re asking me to trust you, but you can’t be genuine for more than a fucking minute.” The words spill out before I can think better of it, before I can rope back the anger simmering in my chest.

Dante shoots me a mocking pout. “Feelings hurt, darling?”

“Fucking annoyed,” I clip back.

For a second, his gaze wavers with thought. Then he barks out a cold chuckle. “What do you expect me to say? Do you want me to weep into your bosom and beg you to kiss it all better?” Dante lifts his brows, cocking his head at me with such derision I’m tempted to storm over there and slap him again. “The very idea of that excites you, doesn’t it? What a lonely, untouched flower you are.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Every word you say proves my point.” I lower my voice to an approximation of his, pulling a melodramatic frown and pressing the back of my hand to my forehead. “Blah, blah, I’d rather flirt with and fuck a monkey in the ass before admiting I have fears and feelings.”

“That’s ridiculous. Where would I even find a monkey?” Dante scoffs, rolling his eyes. “And I don’t sound like that.”

I may actually strangle him with my bare hands.

“You’re impossible,” I growl, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any better of your kind. Self-serving to the bitter end. The rest of us are just a game to you, aren’t we?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What is this—are you trying to discern my worthiness of humanity again?”

“As though there’s anything to prove. Your own selfish desire for freedom at the cost of anyone and anything around you is the clearly only thing your shriveled heart is capable of.”

“Don’t lecture me about freedom, much less its cost,” he fires back. He’s still seated, but I can see the tension bundling his shoulders, desperate for reprieve. He’s holding himself back. “At least I can recognize when I’m being used as a blunt instrument and locked in a gilded cage against my will.”

My fists ball at my sides, nails biting into my palms. “Watch it.”

“You’re no better than a slave yourself, but you’re too thickheaded and brainwashed to see it. Those women sent you into the lion’s maw when they delivered you to me—the perfect little meal that I’d never be able to resist.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice is low, dangerous.

“Do you seriously believe they thought you could best me on your own? Isolated and hours away before backup could find you?” Dante clips out, gesturing brazenly with one hand. “The sudden end to your correspondence would be all the proof they needed to descend upon me. What riles up an Order of slayers more than a martyr, after all? They shoved you toward an early grave and tricked you into believing that your life was worth the uncovering of one more leech.”

My hand is around the vase on the nightstand before the words have finished coming out of his mouth. I fling it at his head with a snarl. Dante ducks at the last moment, leaving it to shatter against the wall into a thousand jagged shards.