The car door slammed behind them as Dante lifted Avery into his arms, carrying her across the threshold like a bride—though nothing about his expression was gentle.
Her arm throbbed where the bullet had grazed her, bandaged tightly now, but her heart ached more from the storm she saw boiling in his eyes.
"You didn't have to carry me," she muttered, half-drowsy, half-defiant.
"You think I'd let you walk in bleeding?" Dante's voice was low and furious, more shaken than she'd ever heard. "You're lucky I didn't burn that bastard alive."
"We got what we needed," Avery said softly. "The traitor's name. And you were right."
Dante stopped mid-stride in the hallway. He looked down at her. "Don't say that like it makes a difference."
"You're angry."
"No," he growled. "I'm furious. You got shot. You flinched and pretended it was nothing. And you're still talking like this is all a game."
"I don't think it's a game," she whispered.
"Then act like it." His voice cracked through her like thunder. "You're under my roof, my protection—and that means your pain is mine. Do you understand what that means, Avery?"
She met his eyes. "No," she said. "I want you to tell me."
He stared at her for a long time, the heat between them thickening into something harder, hungrier, unspoken.
Then slowly, he set her down on the edge of the living room couch, crouching in front of her. "It means when you get hurt, I want blood. When you cry, I want fire. And when you look at me like you did out there…"
He trailed off.
"Like what?" she breathed.
Dante's eyes darkened. "Like you trust me. Like you need me."
Avery's heart slammed against her ribs. She should've looked away. Should've thrown up a wall.
But she didn't.
"I do need you," she said. "And I don't care how cold you act, Dante—you need me too."
Silence.
"I need you, Dante," Avery said, her voice low but steady. "And you need me."
His back tensed.
She saw it.
He didn't turn right away, just ran a hand through his hair like he could scrub the truth off himself. When he finally turned to face her, that familiar, dangerous smirk was tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I don't need anyone," he said coolly.
Avery tilted her head. "That's cute. But I think even the devil gets lonely."
He stepped closer, slow, like a predator circling prey—but she didn't flinch. Not anymore.
"You're bold tonight," he murmured, eyes flicking to the bandage on her arm, then to her lips. "Still bleeding, still talking like you've won something."
"I have," she said, folding her arms despite the sting. "You."
Dante barked out a soft, amused laugh. "Sweetheart, I'm not a prize."
"No. But you did screw up," she added with narrowed eyes. "And even you have to pay for that."
"Screw up?" he repeated, eyebrow arching.
"You let me walk into danger," she said. "You stood there and let me take the risk, knowing how bad it could've gone. You let it happen. So yeah, I think you should be punished too."
Dante's smirk returned, wicked and sharp. "Oh? And what's my punishment, then?"
She stepped forward until they were toe-to-toe, chin tilted up defiantly. "You're going to sit through an entire movie with me. My pick."
His smile dropped into something darker, amused. "You want me to suffer."
"Exactly."
He leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin. "Then you'd better beg for it, little flame."
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't back down. "Please, Dante. Go to the movies with me."
He arched a brow. "That's it? You call that begging?"
Avery narrowed her eyes, then slowly placed a hand on his chest. "Please, Dante. I want you next to me. Not armed. Not planning. Just there. For me."
Something in his gaze flickered. His chest rose slightly under her hand.
"And if I say no?" he asked.
"Then I'll pick the cheesiest, sappiest movie I can find, watch it in your home theater, and make Ethan join me. Loudly. With popcorn."
Dante stared at her. Then… he chuckled. Low and rich.
"You're evil," he said.
"Learned from the best."
He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. "Fine. One movie. But you sit next to me the entire time. No running."
"I wasn't planning to," she whispered.
Later that evening, they stood at the cinema entrance beneath flickering neon lights, the air buzzing with voices and laughter from inside. Avery's eyes lit up at the sight of the movie posters plastered across the walls—half of them cheesy romances, the other half dramatic thrillers Dante probably wouldn't tolerate for five seconds.
She turned to him with a grin. "You're going to love this."
"I doubt that," Dante muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as if this entire situation was an attack on his credibility.
A bored-looking ticket woman eyed them from behind the counter. "You two want tickets?"
"Yes!" Avery chirped before Dante could speak. "Two please!"
The woman raised a brow, then tapped her screen. "Cheapest tickets are for couples. You guys are...?"
Avery blinked. "Oh—yes. Definitely. We're together."
Dante's head whipped around so fast it was a miracle he didn't snap his neck. "We are what?"
Avery elbowed him before smiling sweetly at the woman. "Yes, couple tickets, please."
"You've officially watched too many fairy tale movies," Dante said through gritted teeth.
The woman stared between them, unimpressed. "There's only one ticket left at the back for the couple seats. The biosuite's still got space though."
Avery turned to him with a pout. "The cheap one sounds fine—just one ticket's left, but we can squeeze."
"No," Dante said flatly.
"What? Why not?"
He stepped forward and dropped a card on the counter. "Two tickets. Biosuite. Whatever your most expensive room is."
The woman took it without another word.
Avery gawked at him as they stepped aside. "You did not just—why would you—?"
"I'm not sitting in the back like a teenager sneaking a kiss behind a Coke cup," he said calmly. "And I don't do couple discounts."
"Are you serious?" she hissed. "You'd rather drop a fortune than be mistaken for my boyfriend for one second?"
He leaned down, so close she could see the amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "Don't ruin my reputation, sweetheart. Besides—" he smirked, "—I don't like coupling."
Avery stared at him, scandalized. "You're impossible."
"And you're still bleeding from your arm, yet dragging me to this nightmare. So I suppose we're both difficult."
"Our nightmare," she corrected.
He sighed like he'd been sentenced to death, but said nothing as they were handed their tickets. As they entered the biosuite with its dim lighting, recliner chairs, and velvet walls, Avery glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He looked completely out of place—dark, commanding, and exuding an energy that made the teenage employees too scared to even offer him snacks.
"Popcorn?" she asked sweetly.
He gave her a blank look.
She bought a large tub anyway.
They settled into the plush velvet recliners of the biosuite, popcorn in Avery's lap, an annoyingly smug Dante lounging beside her like a king on a throne. She shot him a hopeful glance. "This better not be some slow drama."
The screen lit up with jagged static and eerie violins.
A child's laugh echoed across the dark theater.
Avery blinked. "Wait. What is—"
A face screamed onto the screen, blood splashing across it. Avery shrieked, slapping a hand over her mouth.
Dante didn't even flinch.
"You picked a horror movie?" she hissed, already clutching the edge of her seat.
He sipped from his drink, bored. "I find them soothing."
"You're a monster."
He turned to her with a smirk. "You already sold your soul to me, remember?"
The next jump scare made her lurch—and instinctively grab his arm. Her nails bit into his sleeve. Dante stared at her hand like it was a kitten clawing royalty.
"Let go," he muttered, trying to pry her off.
"No," she whispered, eyes wide. "Not until the scary part ends."
"That is the movie."
Just then, a voice from the other side of Avery floated into the space.
"Well, well. Didn't expect to see someone like you here."
Avery turned. A man sat two seats down—mid-to-late forties, clean suit, cologne strong enough to kill small animals. His eyes drank her in far too slowly. "You're too pretty to be watching horror films with a guy like him."
Avery blinked. "Um—thanks, I guess?"
Dante didn't move. Didn't breathe.
The man leaned forward. "Tell you what—ditch the dark lord. I could show you a much nicer night."
Avery opened her mouth, but Dante spoke first.
His voice was quiet. Deadly.
"She won't be needing you."
The man frowned. "Excuse me?"
Dante finally turned. His smile was sharp as a knife. "You're excused. Now get lost."
"Whoa. Easy there. I was just—"
Dante shifted forward in one fluid motion, the air around him suddenly heavy. "If you speak to her again, I will break every finger you thought you could touch her with."
The man's eyes widened. "You threatening me?"
"No," Dante said, his grin deepening. "I'm promising you."
The man looked between them—Dante's eyes burning like twin storms, Avery clutching his arm like it was a lifeline—and wisely decided to stand. He muttered something and disappeared out of the suite.
Avery exhaled shakily. "You didn't have to scare him to death."
Dante sat back down, wiping his sleeve as if the man had contaminated the air. "I didn't. Yet."
She smirked, her fear momentarily forgotten. "So... was that jealousy?"
He tilted his head. "You're cute when you're confused."
She leaned in, teasing. "You were jealous."
He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear. "Sweetheart, if I was jealous, you wouldn't be able to walk out of this cinema."
Her breath caught.
The next scare made her squeak again—and she dove right back into his arms.
Dante just sighed. "Unbelievable."
---
Outside the cinema, the night air was cool and humming with the buzz of city lights. Avery bounced a little on her heels, arms folded with popcorn tucked under one elbow.
"That was amazing," she chirped. "I mean, horrifying—but amazing."
Dante strode beside her, hands in his coat pockets, looking as disinterested as if he'd just exited a board meeting. "It was loud and poorly plotted."
She rolled her eyes. "You mean you enjoyed it."
"I mean I tolerated it."
"Which is practically fun in Dante language."
He didn't answer.
She smirked. "Come on. Admit it. You had a little fun."
"No."
"Dante—"
"I do not waste time on 'fun,'" he said flatly. "Fun is for people who can afford to waste hours on emotion."
"You sat through the whole thing."
"Because you begged me to. And you made an exceptional performance of clinging to my arm like a terrified squirrel."
She gasped. "Excuse me?"
"I think the entire front row knows your blood type now."
She bumped his shoulder. "Okay, rude. But you didn't push me away."
He arched a brow. "I don't recall ever letting you stay either. You latched on like a parasite."
"More like a damsel in distress," she countered, chin up.
He chuckled darkly. "You're no damsel. But you do cause distress."
They walked in silence for a moment—her eyes sparkling, his jaw sharp under the city lights.
Then she looked up at him. "So… you didn't completely hate it."
Dante paused just long enough to make her hope.
Then, deadpan: "I've endured worse."
Avery groaned. "You are the most stubborn, emotionally constipated man I have ever met."
"And yet," he drawled, "you still begged me."
She flushed, shoving him again. "Never again."
He caught her wrist in a flash, holding it between two fingers like she was delicate china. "You say that," he murmured, "but if I offered to take you again tomorrow, you'd say yes before I finish the sentence."
She stared at him. "Would you?"
He smirked. "I don't repeat myself."
And with that, he dropped her hand and turned toward the car, coat fluttering like a shadow in motion.
Avery stared after him—confused, annoyed, and far too thrilled for her own good.
"Unbelievable," she muttered, hurrying after him. "That's it. Next time, I'm picking a rom-com."
Behind her, Dante's voice echoed over his shoulder. "Only if you beg better."