CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

El

I COULD FEEL Dante’s penetrating stare from across the room. I’d walked around for five minutes, nobody would talk to me nobody even acknowledged me.

So basically, I was useless and in an uncomfortable dress that made me feel naked, with a knife plastered to my thigh.

It was naive. To think that I could help Dante in any way by simply being by his side.

What was I doing?

I’d wanted safe.

I’d wanted Chris.

And there I was, in the den of Hell with the one guy who was bad for me.

I shuddered and looked up just in time to see Dante crook his finger.

His movements were casual.

His gaze heated — pissed.

Andrei was still as a statue behind him, for the first time since I’d seen his eyes — they were alive — with excitement.

I didn’t like his look or the evil way they glinted when I finally made my way over to Dante, only to have him grab my hand and squeeze it. “I’m sorry.”

My heart sped up as he locked eyes with me and then very slowly ran his hand down my hip, touching where the knife was. I had no time to react as his mouth fused to mine, his tongue plundered, captured, dominated, until I stumbled backward, he caught me before I tripped his lips ran down my ear. “No choice.”

I bit my lip and nodded.

“Be strong.” He set me on my feet and leaned down, his hand inching up my thigh as people started slowly circling around us.

His fingers caught on my underwear and that look of awe was back in place, and then shut down like he had no choice but to be all business when his hands — his body was all about the pleasure.

He pulled the knife free and stood.

He didn’t turn around.

He faced me.

“Give me your arm,” he said in a low voice.

Shaking, I gave him my right arm.

“Not that one.” His eyes fell to my left, where I’d cheerfully set up enough bangles to cover the tattoo that marked me just like it marked Andrei.

One by one, Dante pulled the silver bangles off. They dropped to the ground with the finality of a gunshot.

The crown signified power.

The blood signified the only way to stay in power.

Sacrifice.

Xavier was so proud when they gave him his tattoo.

I was sick.

Would have rather been dead.

“I’m going to take this from you,” Dante whispered, pointing the knife down in the middle of the crown. “It’s going to hurt.”

“You’re going to… take it?” I repeated. “How—”

He swore.

The knife pierced my forearm and dug in.

I barely held back my scream.

The horror of what he was doing to me, hurting me just like him.

Willing to do anything to be with them.

Why did I keep telling myself Dante was different?

I tried to jerk my arm free.

Dante gripped my wrist so hard I was afraid I was going to have marks on my skin.

Just like him.

Abusive just like him.

“No!” I shook my head. “Stop!”

But he didn’t. He ran the edge of the knife along my skin creating one long line across the crown, like it was getting pierced by my fresh blood.

The cut wasn’t deep.

It also wasn’t so shallow that I didn’t start bleeding immediately.

It still felt like I was getting filleted alive.

Dante finally stopped.

His eyes locked on mine as he squeezed.

Several drops of blood fell to the ground in swift succession.

“The tattoo is drawn through — and blood has been spilled.”

Andrei frowned. “She’s barely bleeding.”

Speak for yourself asshole!

“You said blood must be spilled, you never said how much, if you wanted a massacre you should have been specific, better yet, let me fight one of them and I’ll give you your blood.” He nodded at Maksim who backed up like he didn’t want a fight.

“Fine.” Andrei nodded and then sat back down as the rest of the people around me continued their drinking and partying. “We’ll be in touch, enjoy the party.” And then he basically ignored the fact that I was still bleeding and that Dante looked ready to kill.

Fear wrapped around my heart like a vice, Dante let me jerk away from him, but not before wrapping an arm around me and leading me toward the door. “We’re going home.”

“Are you insane?” I snapped. “I’m not getting in a car with you!”

“Oh, okay.” His nostrils flared. “Should we just call an Uber and let you bleed all over it? You want to explain to Chase why you have a slit forearm?”

“No, I think I’m going to enjoy watching you explain it to him!” I yelled, then raised my hand to slap him across the face.

Dante caught my arm, his expression pained.

“Let me go!”

“Do you think I would ever intentionally hurt you?” He hissed.

“You did! You are!” I finally pulled free and ran to the car as best I could. I wasn’t shaking from blood loss, I was shaking from something else.

It felt a lot like fear and disappointment.

Disappointment more than anything.

I’d done the unthinkable and softened myself to the enemy, to the monster. It had been easy to forget about the violence against others — the killing — until it was directed at me.

Until his chilly gaze took mine in and the gauntlet fell.

The door unlocked.

I jerked open the door and slammed it.

Dante didn’t get in the driver’s side. He opened the trunk, and then walked over to my side and opened the door.

“What? You want to finish me off?” I spat. “You’re just like him! Just like them! I can’t believe I ever thought—”

“Thought what?” Dante interrupted. “Go ahead, what? That I was good? That I’m capable of it? That I care?” He laughed humorously. “I’m just as fucked up as they are, I shot their friend and I liked it—” I sucked in a breath. “I liked it,” he repeated as if he was trying to convince himself more than me. “This isn’t a fairy tale, and if it was, I sure as hell wouldn’t be the prince.”

Dante dug into a small black bag and grabbed some antiseptic, then rubbed it down my long cut. White gauze followed until my entire forearm was wrapped up.

It still stung but at least I wasn’t bleeding anymore.

He slammed his hand against the car and cursed. “I had no choice.”

“You mean you couldn’t have just said no? What? Too hard? Don’t want to lose your balls in front of them?”

“You know…” His jaw ticked. “For being in the mafia as long as you were, you sure as hell don’t know how things work do you?”

I crossed my arms and looked away.

“It was either do what he asks, or leave in a body bag… Trust me, I did the calculations… I could maybe disarm him, shoot him before Maksim or Ivan made it over to me, but then it would be two against one and although I’m fairly confident I could take them — I have no idea if the rest of the students would be on their side, or mine. And then…” He swallowed back another curse. “Then, there was you. Maksim was two feet away from you, would he use you as collateral or charge me first? I did the calculations. In every scenario, you were dead. In every scenario, I failed you.” His breath caught. “So, I did the hard thing — don’t lie and say you wouldn’t have done the same.”

He shut the car door.

We rode home in complete silence.

And I hated him all over again.

For being right.

And making me feel like a fool.

But not as much as I hated him for making me burn for his touch — when minutes ago — I’d been on the receiving end of his knife.