Page 62 of Devil's Thirst

“Wasn’t really a question,” he grumbles, making me smile even more.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” I say firmly but gently before ending the call.

Am I stalling? Yes. I need the next few minutes to collect myself. My paranoia isn’t thrilled about walking home after being attacked, but it’s still daylight, and if that jerk had wanted to hurt me, he already had a perfect opportunity. I want to make sure I’m ready for the conversation I’m about to have. It would be difficult enough even without the tinge of a bruise blossoming on my jawline. Sante won’t be pleased. Hopefully, what I have to say will offset his reaction.

One way or another, I’m about to find out.

Sante is waitingfor me in the apartment when I arrive. He’s seated at the dining table, phone out but forgotten the second I walk through the door. I set down my things but don’t join him, leaning on the kitchen counter instead.

I take in the statuesque man across from me—rigidly unflappable on the outside while an electric storm of intensity brews on the inside. The air around us is charged with his uncompromising energy. He is an endless reservoir of purpose and passion, all focused on a singular objective. Me.

I can’t tell if the army of butterflies taking flight in my chest is owed more to nerves or excitement.

“Why didn’t you go to rehearsals?” Sante asks in his signature calm.

“I’ll explain, but first, I need to ask you something. I need to know why, Sante. Why did you come back for me when we hardly knew one another?”

Seconds pass before he answers.

“At first, I came back to prove myself wrong so I could finally quit thinking about you.”

“But then you stayed,” I note, wanting more.

He shrugs. “Turned out I was right.”

“About what?”

“That you were meant for me.”

He slowly rises and crosses to the kitchen where I’m standing. The closer he gets, the more his face pinches with undiluted fury. His hand gently angles my face up toward the lights.

“Why the fuck is your face bruised?” His voice morphs into something no longer human—the savage awakening of a creature thought to be extinct and long forgotten.

It might have frightened me if I wasn’t still swaddled in a blanket of happiness from his assertion that I was made for him. I’m starting to believe he might be right.

I place my hand on his chest and smile softly. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Talbot sent someone to threaten me, but I’m done hiding. I’m done living in fear. You know the stakes, and I trust you to handle it as you see fit.”

The black daggers in Sante’s eyes warm to melted pools of obsidian. “Say it again.”

“I trust you,” I say with quiet certainty.

“You trust me to keep you safe, but what about this?” His right hand collars my throat and guides me closer to him. “Do you trust me with your body, too?”

I can hear the hidden longing and anticipation feathering his words. Sensing the intensity of his desire for me helps calm my fears, though my heart continues its frantic pace.

“I do.” The breathy admission is a relief. A release of sorts.

Sante’s thumb ghosts across the bruise on my jaw. “I will handle this,” he murmurs almost to himself. “I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

Each word is forged with an ardent commitment so fierce that emotion seizes tight around my throat and chokes off my words. All I can do is nod.

“I want all of you, Amelie. Every inch of you inside and out.”

“I’ll give what I can.”

“What does that mean?” His eyes drift to my lips.

“It means I’m messed up,” I admit, swallowing down my insecurities that try to rise to the surface.

---