Page 48 of The Cursed and the Broken
“You’re so used to people walking over you and treating you like trash that your perception of yourself has changed to fit their mould. You are an intelligent, beautiful young woman who knows what she wants. And, more importantly, you’re brave. Brave for standing up to dated ideals and close-minded individuals. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
Tears pricked my eyes and I hid my face shamefully. My cheeks blazed from the truth of those words. The hand of oppression I’d been dealt because I didn’t fit society’s moulds.
“Not just a handsome face,” I whispered.
His fingers found my chin, tilting my head ever so gently. “Don’t hide from me, Kitarni. You never have to hide from anyone again.”
I stared into his eyes, lost in the sincerity of his words, and damnit, my betraying heart fluttered at the use of my real name from his lips. Blinking, I leaned into his touch slightly, just enough to let him know I was thankful. That I was grasping the line of trust he’d thrown me.
“When you learned we were to marry,” I asked him slowly, “what were your first thoughts?”
He leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin, silent as he pondered my question. I felt the absence of his touch keenly, but his every movement was graceful fluidity and I couldn’t help but stare, mesmerised. His shirt strained against the hard muscle of his arms, every wrinkle in the fabric stretching taut. At last, those dark eyes met mine and for once they were humourless, thoughtful.
“Honestly? I was angry. I knew the day would come when my life would be bartered for the betterment of my house. I suppose knowing and acting are two entirely different things, though. For one, I would have liked to court my bride under less harrowing circumstances.”
“Really? You’ve given me the impression you quite like anything dangerous and deadly,” I teased.
He grinned crookedly and that damned dimple winked into existence. “I love to play.”
Rolling my eyes, I prodded him with my toe. “You’re a little damaged, you know that?”
Dante cocked his head, assessing me with a predator’s gaze. “Aren’t we all?”
My skin prickled under the studious sweep of his eyes, my core thrilling at the look he was giving me. Hungry.Devouring. Images of him crushing me against him and using that mouth in sinful ways flashed through me. “I—I think I should go to bed,” I choked out.
I didn’t want to go, not really. Falling asleep would bring me closer to seeingher. But the way he was looking at me, it stirred something deep inside, something I couldn’t allow to consume me.
And Dante made me feel bold. Daring. Like I could do anything in the world, including falling into his arms, becoming someone I wasn’t sure I was ready to be. I liked this game we were playing. Perhaps I liked dangerous and deadly too, and Dante was certainly both of those. MaybeIwas damaged for being drawn to that darkness.
“We should both get some rest,” he agreed, rising beside me. When he headed to the bedroom, I narrowed my eyes, storming behind.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, hands planted on my hips.
He peeled his shirt over his head and I swallowed as the muscles on his stomach rippled with the movement. The inky scrawls of a howling wolf snarled from his chest and a sword surrounded by flowers angled towards his pants. I stared at the ink, then followed the sword down towards his pants. Istenanya’s tits, he might have been a bronzed god himself.
When his shirt was removed, he lay it slowly over a settee in the corner of the room.
Turning, he smiled, and I had the feeling of being trapped in what now felt like too small a room. “Undressing for bed,” he drawled, taking a step toward me. “Need some help?”
“Absolutely not,” I snapped. “And you’re not sleeping in here.”
Dante took a step toward me. Another. “Oh, come now, the couch in the lounge is far too short for me.”
“Then sleep on the rug by the fire,” I huffed, my breath coming shorter as he advanced another step.
“And leave you unguarded for the night? Not a chance.”
Bastard. He was thoroughly enjoying my discomfort. The second dimple appeared as he flashed me a saccharine smile. I cursed the god who invented such a thing. They made me want to melt into a puddle of goo.
“Fine,” I said begrudgingly. “You can sleep in here.”
“What a relief,” he replied smoothly. “I’m sure the floor won’t be too uncomfortable for you.”
“Wh—what?” I spluttered, fuming. The audacity! “You can’t be serious.”
He took one final step, bridging the gap between us until I was forced to bump into the wall. He placed one hand on either side of my head, the golden rings in his eyes glinting with amusement. “Well, unless you want to sleep in the bed with me. Course, I can’t rely on you to keep your hands to yourself. They might wander in the night …”
Furious, I pushed off the wall and onto his chest, glaring up at him. “You arrogant son of a ...” I took a deep breath and hissed, “I wouldneverstoop to your level of depravity.” We stayed that way for one heated moment. My core thrummed with need and I felt his own excitement press against me.
