Page 54 of Blood Submission

Chapter22

Laney watchedDante as he slept. He’d drifted off once she’d finished sobbing like an idiot after the best sex of her life. But it wasn’t just the sex that had made her emotional. It was that he’d actually opened up to her and exposed a softer side of himself. His story still ricocheted around in her head, each new discovery fighting for dominance over the other. But one thing stood out above all of the rest: he’d had a child, too. A son. Now she understood why he’d acted the way he had. Why he’d freaked out when he’d seen her stretch marks. She even kind of got why he did the awful things he did. Sortof.

But it was more than that. For the first time, she’d acknowledged the connection between them was more than just their unusually high sexual attraction. There was a bond here, an attachment to him she’d been fighting. And it wasn’t the usual case of Stockholm syndrome, though she had wondered about that more than once since she’d woken up in his arms the first time. It was something much, much more. She knew that now. Her soul soared every time he was near her. It overrode the fear, the frustration, the anger.

She now knew that in spite of what had happened here in the past, he wasn’t keeping her in this damp underground to be cruel. He kept her here because he thought it was safe. It was where he felt safe. He was trying to care for her the only way he knew how, and he’d never really hurt her. Honestly, she had to admit that she didn’t think he ever would.

His horror at forgetting to feed her flashed through her mind. Well, she might have to make sure he didn’t accidentally starve her, but still, he was trying. She ran her fingers down his bare chest, and he sighed, tuned into her even in sleep. She was coming to realize that he had just given her a gift of the highest proportions. He’d given her complete control over him while he was vulnerable with lust. He’d given her his trust.

That said more to her than anything else. He claimed that she was his? Well, whatever the supernatural phenomenon that had brought them together, he also said he was hers, too. So she just had to figure out how to get him to let her out of this damncave.

That may be easier said than done. She’d noticed the difference in him earlier almost immediately. The entire time they were upstairs, his eyes had constantly shifted around the room, even when he spoke to her. And a nervous tension had radiated from him. Nervousness that she once would have mistook for menace. It made her jumpy. Except for when he’d shown her that the sun wouldn’t hurt him, he’d stayed far away from the windows. He felt exposed up there, and it obviously didn’t sit well with him. Of course, now she knewwhy.

So, it appeared she had a decision to make. She could stay with him, and hope that maybe someday he would think twice before he ran around snapping people’s necks. She could accept him for who and what he was, or she could leave—one way or the other.

That last idea didn’t hold the appeal it had just a few hours before.

A phone began to ring and Dante’s black eyes popped open. His upper lip lifted in a snarl, exposing his fangs, before he sat up and searched her out. Upon finding her next to him, he did a quick scan of her face and what he could see of her body above the thin blanket. Seeing her looking back at him with a smile, he scowled, then rose to walk completely nude over to where his pants lay. Pulling a cell phone out of his pocket, he answered it. “Dante.”

Once Laney could tear her eyes from his powerful legs and backside and think coherently, the smile fell from her face. He’d had a cell this entire time? But the thought fled as he turned to face her with the phone still to his ear, something akin to fear on his face before he quickly turned away again. Pulling the blanket around her, Laney got up and started pulling on her clothes without having to be told. Something major was going down. He watched her from the corner of his eye, but didn’t stop her as he spoke to the person on the otherend.

“I’ll be right up.” Hanging up, he ran a hand over his skull.

“What isit?”

Grabbing his pants, he pulled themon.

“Dante?”

When he continued to ignore her, she put a hand on his arm. His eyes closed at her touch, his shirt hanging forgotten from his hands. He inhaled deeply, and opened them again. But he wasn’t angry. His eyes roved over her face. “I’m trying to decide what to do,” he finallysaid.

“Aboutwhat?”

“You.”

“What aboutme?”

“Don’t worry aboutit.”

Laney put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Don’t worry about it?” she repeated. “If something is going on that involves me, I think I have the right toknow.”

He went to put on his shirt, then tossed it aside when he saw it was torn in half. Powerful muscles rippled in the dim light of the candles. “I’m not used to this, little mouse.”

She raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question.

“This,” he said, moving his hand back and forth between them. “I’ve been alone for a long time. I’m not used to this. Especially not with a human.”

He had been alone. She could see that. But it was his own doing. In spite of all of the others around him, he had placed himself in a type of self-exile. So she chose to ignore the “human” remark, for now. “Okay. I get that. But you need to talk to me, Dante. I have a right to know what’s goingon.”

Both hands rubbed his skull thistime.

“Dante.”

“All right,” he ground out between gritted teeth. Then he took a breath. “All right. But we don’t have time to get into a long fucking discussion rightnow.”

“So just give me the main points.”

He searched her face again. For what, she didn’t know. But he seemed to find what he was looking for. “I told you about the whole fated mate shit, and that you’remine.”

---