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“If you don’t like this, you really won’t approve of what you find inside.” Dante leaned against one of the pillars flanking the temple’s massive door, all bronzed flesh and brilliant tattoos—
And, oh glory, he was shirtless.
So very shirtless.
Tella willed herself not to stare, to march past him and ignore him, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him or prevent the rush of heat that spread across her chest and up her neck. She had seen young men unclothed before—she was fairly certain she’d even seen him without a shirt—but somehow Dante looked different at the top of those steps. Taller and thicker. More consuming. He was dressed like one of the statues, with only a wide white cloth wrapped around his lower half, accentuating the bronzed perfection of his legs and chest.
Tella snapped her mouth shut, but it was too late. He’d seen her jaw drop, and now the vainglorious bastard was smiling. All white teeth and flawless lips as if he were one of the stars worshipped inside the Temple. And Tella had to admit, in that moment he could have convinced her. Just like he’d managed to trick her into believing that he actually cared about her.
This was the first time she’d seen him since he’d carried her broken body away from Idyllwild Castle. She imagined he expected a thank-you for saving her that night. But after what he’d said to Julian, about only caring because she could lead them to the cards, Tella wasn’t about to thank Dante for anything. She wanted to say something witty or scathing, but to her horror all that came out was: “You should never wear a shirt.”
His grin was devastating. Dante pushed off the pillar then and propped an elbow against one of the statues closer to her. Moonlight danced over the thick black thorns tattooed across his clavicle while his dark eyes did the same to Tella. They slid up one slit of her dress until …
He scowled.
Something dipped in Tella’s stomach. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Dante reached down, grabbed the end of the cord holding her scrap of fabric together, and tugged.
Every inch of Tella’s skin went hot. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you.” He inclined his head toward one of the female statues who wore a garment similar to Tella’s, only the rope around her middle started directly below her breasts and then wrapped around several times creating a diamond pattern until it knotted at the waist, leaving only two short tassels hanging near her curving hips.
“You have it all wrong.” Dante stole the cord’s other end. “We’re going to have to remove the rope and retie it.”
Tella snatched both ends back and took a wobbly step away. “You can’t take apart my dress on these stairs.”
“Does that mean I can take it apart somewhere else?” His low voice oozed dark promises.
Tella swatted him with the rope.
“I’m only joking.” Dante held up both hands with a surprisingly unguarded grin. “I wasn’t planning on undressing you here or anywhere else. But we’re going to have to fix your sheet if you want to get inside.”
“It’s a sheath, not a sheet,” Tella argued. “And they won’t care how it’s tied.”
“If you think that, then you clearly don’t know enough about this sanctuary. A different world exists on the other side of those marble doors. But if you want to enter like that, go ahead.” He flicked one end of the cord in her hands.
Tella glowered. “I think you enjoy tormenting me.”
“If you hate it so much, why haven’t you walked away?”
“Because you’re standing in my way.”
It was a poor excuse and they both knew it.
It was so much easier to despise him in her head than it was face-to-face. She just kept seeing the way he’d looked at her as he’d carried her from Idyllwild castle. There’d been a moment when he’d appeared so treacherously young and close too vulnerable. But was it because he’d actually cared about losing her? Or had he only feared because losing her meant losing his chance at finding her mother’s Deck of Destiny?
She was tempted to ask, to throw what she’d overheard back in his face and see if he flinched or if he softened.
The words weighed down the tip of Tella’s tongue.
But none of them came out.
Tella didn’t really want his answer because no matter what he said, there was no good way for their story to end. Tella still wasn’t sure whether Dante or Julian was Legend. Her conversation with Scarlett had sown threads of doubt. But if Dante turned out to be Legend, then Tella needed to make sure any feelings she had for him were turned off.
After watching the play last night and concluding that Jacks intended to free all the Fates, Tella had debated her plans. She didn’t want to be responsible for releasing the Fates back into the world so they could reign over the Empire like cruel gods. But she didn’t want to die again, and she also couldn’t come this close to saving her mother—and finally asking her all the questions that had been building since the day she’d disappeared from Trisda—only to fail.
Tella wasn’t going to be a coward and pretend she didn’t have choices just because she didn’t like them. She did have choices and she’d made hers. At the end of the game Tella would give Legend over to Jacks.
