Page 54

Giardia was the last thing I needed right then. Yet I got in anyway.

Dante was ogling me with what could only be referred to as a shit-eating grin. The corner of my mouth inexplicably turned upward.

His eyes ran hungrily over my body. My tattoos. The long scar that went from my hip to my knee. Deep and gnarled, from being thrown onto a barbed wire fence by a vampire. Another on my torso, caused by not-so-friendly fire from a pissed-off hunter.

It was refreshing to be with someone who didn’t view scars or tattoos with distaste or confusion. Like everyone else who knew me. Especially Colton. I didn’t miss the barely restrained wince when he looked at my body, a roadmap of the journey I’d taken to abandon the girl he used to love.

“Didn’t peg you for a lace girl, Harris.” He nodded to my deep burgundy underwear that was indeed at odds with what could be loosely called my “style.”

I eschewed most traditionally feminine items. But what could I say, I liked nice underwear.

I felt my body flush at being in front of Dante in what amounted to lingerie and did nothing to hide my nipples. But I lifted my head higher. “I’m full of surprises, Dante. Most of which you’ll never discover.”

His grin disappeared. “I doubt it, Hadley,” he replied quietly. “I’m going to uncover all of your…” His eyes ran lazily down my body. “Secrets.”

I jumped in, nipples tight, thighs clenching, brain short-circuiting.

The water was warm, deep, and pleasant. I relished the quiet under the surface. The darkness. But there was only so long I could hold my breath. By the time I surfaced, the intense look had thankfully gone from Dante’s face.

I didn’t speak to him, didn’t spar. Instead, I floated on my back, letting my body be buoyant, letting the warmth seep into me, the sunshine warm my face. My ribs protested dully—exacerbated by the hike, the exertion, and the lack of rest they probably required. I was under no illusions that I was in any kind of magical spring, despite it being unusual. My troubles would not wash away there. I would not be cleansed. Such things didn’t exist. But the water was soothing, the sun felt nice, and the world was quiet. I tried to savor the moment, knowing that in a short amount of time, I’d have to get out. I’d have to make plans to hunt and kill monsters. Otherworldly beings, possibly masquerading as humans, humans I might know. Worse, I had to go to dinner at the Hughes’ house.

So, yes, right then, it was possible that a moment in a hot spring with my tattooed, naked, infuriating rival might just end up being the highlight of my day.

The lack of commentary or sexual suggestion from Dante’s direction was what made me open my eyes. It was too suspicious. Like when a toddler was silent and you found them painting the walls with their own shit.

When I turned my head, he was staring at me, his head cocked to the side, resting against the natural lip of the rock which created a kind of seat.

His arms were stretched out on either side of him, his posture utterly relaxed. His expression, however, was not. It was glued to me, his lips thinned, eyes focused squarely on me.

“What?” I pushed back upward, treading water, my toes brushing the bottom of the spring.

“Tell me there’s not a rusalka behind me,” I groaned, tilting my head. “Then again, they mainly drown men, so the more the merrier.”

I was joking, though I doubted there was a vengeful drowned spirit lurking in the spring. Not outside the realm of possibility, but I needed some other reason for Dante to be looking at me with such a complicated expression that denoted depth in a man I’d written off as being cocky and shallow.

“I’ve never seen you look like that before,” he murmured. “Relaxed. It looks good on you.”

I let out an uncomfortable laugh, splashing water for something to do, to disrupt the peaceful environment. “Commit it to memory because relaxation isn’t in the job description.”

He pushed off the rocks. “I’m aware of that. And I’ve already committed all of this to memory.” His eyes gestured meaningfully to my body underneath the cloudy water.

I should’ve kicked back when it was clear he was making his way toward me. Could’ve punched him in the mouth like he was a shark. Could’ve gotten out of the spring all together.

My options were many.

Yet I stayed. Bobbing on my tiptoes in the water like an idiot. Then Dante stopped right in front of me. Close. Too close. He was taller than me, so he could easily stand flat-footed, the water sluicing off his torso in droplets.

“What are you doing, Dante?” I whispered.

“Shooting my shot when you’re relaxed is the most likely time for me to do it and not get punched.” He inched closer.

I didn’t ask him what he was doing. It was clear. He waited a half second for me to protest, do something violent. Waited for permission or maybe for a straight-up attack.

Apparently, my not punching him served as consent in his eyes.

His hand hooked around the back of my neck, jerking me forward. Our mouths plastered together, the kiss blistering and hungry from the moment it started. A clash of tongues, swallowed need, and violent desire.

My body was an explosion of sensation. I’d known Dante had a silver tongue, but I hadn’t realized he could kiss.