Page 89 of A Betrothal So Bloody

“Don’t do that,” Dante groans.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like that through those Aphrodite lashes. How am I supposed to behave?”

I let my body tip closer to his, the gentle murmur of the water filling my ears. “I just think this drowned sewer rat look rather suits you, that’s all.”

He arches an eyebrow. “And that’s your idea of a compliment?”

“Very much so. If I weren’t so worn to the bone…” I trail off, chewing my lip and giving him a wolfish little smile.

Dante gives a deep chuckle, glancing away. “I’ve made a beast of you.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as his smirk turns conspiratorial, and his voice lowers further. “I’ll bet you dreamed about sucking me off since the moment we met, didn’t you?”

I give a soft scoff of laughter. His crude phrasing is going to be the death of me. “One of us clearly did.”

There’s a flash of light in the corner of my eye, and I pull away from him. The sun has risen. A thick shaft of pale amber light spills down the stairway we’d come through, creating a long square of illumination along the rough stone floor.

“Just in time,” I murmur.

Though it’s a dozen feet away, Dante still takes a step back deeper into the safety of the darkness. “Describe it to me,” he says.

I glance back at him, catching the weight behind his stare. Setting the lantern at our feet, I clutch his doublet around me and walk back to the stairway. I peer upward, letting the sprinkle of rain from above pepper my cheeks and eyelashes.

The sky is reduced to a rectangular slit between the walls, the upward angle dizzying me for a moment. Moody grey stormclouds are now emblazoned with streaks of pink and orange. The falling droplets are lit from behind like streaks of gold descending from heaven. It’s the kind of natural, rare beauty that instills peace in a heart. A peace that nearly unravels me, for how foreign it feels.

“It’s beautiful. A painting couldn’t do it justice.” I call over.

Sunlight pushing through the rain is a radiant caress. I shut my eyes, releasing a shuddering sigh. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.

“It’s warm, like liquid honey on my skin—pushing out the cold. It feels like a kiss.”

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on his face when I glance back in his direction. Dante’s drenched in shadow, a world apart from my little square of sunlight—but watching me like he’s memorizing every droplet on my skin.

We continue on side by side, the lantern’s wavering light guiding our trudge onward parallel to the diverted stream.

“When I was poring over wagons of tomes on Callistia, I did come across a few fascinating leads on a warlock toward the south,” Dante remarks, his voice jumping along the arched tunnel. “Though, his methods seem to be unpleasant. More garlic than you’d expect, for one thing. But, I suppose it’s as good a place to start as any.”

The weariness in his voice makes me ache. I can only imagine the hollow feeling of failure I carry is amplified tenfold for him. Decades of searching and planning—only to leave Callistia’s grove as cursed as he entered. There’s a heaviness that creeps in, despite his best efforts to tether it down.

“I’ll need to make arrangements to return to Corvus at the earliest opportunity,” I say, frowning as I work though the tactics. “As it is, I’ll be facing weeks of questioning for my unorthodox methods. On my fucking first mission, no less. Sparse letters, declining aid, a vanished vampire… I’ll be lucky if they let me off of scullery duties for a year.”

I furrow my brow, working through the lie I’ll have to deliver. If not for the fang scars still healing over on my neck, I could have claimed D’Agonisto had simply been an abusive spouse, and I’d sent him to the grave out of necessity.

But no—I can hardly see a way around it. I must report that the depraved leech we had suspected all along did try to drain me on our honeymoon, and I barely escaped with my life. And in doing so, I let him get away. I wince just thinking of delivering such a failure. I’ll never get another solo assignment as long as I live.

But… Did I want one?

My stomach knots, wondering how long I can endure the methods Mother Superior will undoubtedly insist on to unearth the truth, if she had any doubt. My lie will need to be unwavering.

Luckily, I still have days to perfect my story.

“Will they hurt you?” Dante asks, his steps coming to an abrupt halt.

I start to answer—pain is such a common tool, I scarcely think twice about it. But my words catch in my throat when I see the cold, lethal look on his face, his jaw clenched hard—like he’s already imagining ripping the arms off any slayer who would lay a hand on me.

Warmth blossoms in my chest. He’s protective of me?

I offer him a pacifying smile. “Nothing I can’t handle, unless they find out about our other activities. And yet—”