Dante didn't move quickly. Then again, he never did. Everything he did was deliberate…measured like a blade meant to both kill and caress. He was like a jungle cat, stalking his prey.
And for once, I didn't mind being prey if it meant being looked at like I was the only person in the universe.
He sat beside me, his thigh pressed against mine, and in the low, flickering light of my house, he looked every inch the demon he truly was. No mask. No charm. Just raw, exposed pride in a body that shouldn't have been able to contain it.
Salvatore stayed where he was, his hand gently cradling my ankle like I was something fragile.
I wasn't.
But tonight… I almost wished I was. I almost wish that I hadn't been stained by my past, but if I hadn't gone through all that, then I wouldn't be the person I am today.
And I kind of liked her.
