Page 117 of Imprisoned with the Vampire King

Went to a charity gala together (and left early, after the eighth person bumped into me and Dante nearly ripped their head off).

I watched him fight, when someone challenged him for his throne. That was slightly terrifying, but the fight wasn't close.

And yeah, we fucked, too. It was never scheduled (I had access to his schedule, so I knew that for sure, unless he was hiding a second schedule somewhere). Sex usually happened in a random place. Like his office, after a meeting. Or in his car, outside some building he owned. Once, we even fucked on the balcony outside my studio, after I dared him.

We had no neighbors, so it wasn't much of a dare, but he'd still taken me up on it.

Honestly, I felt happy when I was with him.

It was a strange feeling.

I'd been content for the last century, making and selling pottery. Happiness was something different.

Something better.

I found myself watching Dante, when he wasn't looking. Missing him, when he wasn't next to me. Wanting to tell him things, the few times we were apart.

I wasn't sure whether to love that or hate it, so I tried not to feel any way about it in particular. But I felt things.

Strong things that I wasn't ready to name yet.

Good, strong things.

After a few weeks, River and I were positive about what we'd need to weave, so we headed back to the prison.

It took us a few days to get the upper floors running the way we needed them to. When we were finally done, Dante had to peel me off the floor and carry me home.

My power well was empty again at that point, but that was going to change.

Dante and I were both quiet when we woke up the morning after the upper floors were done.

We knew what was coming.

We'd be taking the elevator back down.

Facing Reaper, with the fae royals.

And unraveling almost all of my old magic. That was what I dreaded the most.

Dante had made it clear that I would be staying behind him and the fae until Reaper was dead, but that was fine with me.

My mate tried to leave me in bed as he went downstairs to make coffee, but I slipped out from beneath the blankets and followed him. The loose t-shirt I had on swayed around the tops of my thighs, the slits on the back fitting my wings perfectly.

I hadn't complained when the top appeared in my closet.

I was no longer opposed to letting my mate spend his money on me. He worked hard for it, and it was definitely a benefit for me, so fighting it was stupid.

He liked making coffee for me on the days we didn't buy it, so I didn’t try to help. I just eased myself up onto the countertop next to the machine, sending my wings away so I didn't crush them in the process.

I watched in silence as he made a shot of espresso. One of his hands brushed my bare legs every time he had a moment. Or maybe he was making those moments fit the process.

“Should we talk about what could go wrong today?” I asked, as he added milk to our lattes. Oat milk for him, because he liked the flavor. The same for me, because I added enough sugar that I didn’t care what kind of milk I used.

“I’m not going to let anything go wrong.”

“But just in case…”

He looked up from the drink he was stirring meeting my eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to you. If something happens to me, you’ll be fine.”