Page 30 of The Hitch
She nods almost imperceptibly as we casually stroll towards the three women. The Bael's piercing gaze rakes up and down Melody. The Sitri and Beleth smirk and wave.
"Ladies," I say with false gravitas. "I'd love for you to meet my wife. Melody Lyons."
"Congratulations on your recent nuptials, Mr. and Mrs. Lyons." The Beleth extends her hand to Melody, who stares at it until I nudge her gently. "Fantastic to meet you."
"You, too," Melody mumbles back.
"Well, I hope you three have a lovely night—" I start.
"Pulling her away already, Dante?" The Bael flashes her teeth in a menacing grin. "Why? We don't bite." The Bael tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder and sips the pale blush of her wine.
The Beleth assesses Melody with her icy blue eyes. I can feel her stiffen beside me, and I throw my arm around her shoulder—she holds back a flinch, but The Sitri catches it. I curse internally. Samantha can overanalyze relationships from a glance, and I don't especially feel like listening to her psychobabble.
"It's all a bit overwhelming, you know?" Melody pipes up. "There are so many people, and I get a bit nervous in crowds."
She does? I smile until I notice the three Goetic women looking a bit concerned. Peering over to Melody, I see why. She has murder written across her face—a tight smile that doesn't meet her eyes. That roiling rage beneath her skin shines through, and I feel the stone around my heart chip away, just a little bit more.
"Completely understandable, love." I lay a gentle kiss on her temple. "Shall we?"
She nods, and I whisk her away, feeling the gaze of all around us evaluating me and my new wife. Melody makes a beeline to the catering tables, honing in on miso-glazed salmon.Excellent choice. A short man in a white shirt and black vest loads the plate at her direction, smiling blithely until he catches my eye. I can feel myself radiating death at the sight of a man in Melody's vicinity. He falters and focuses his gaze down to the table, deferent, demure.
Melody is right. This is abject torture. And I am not in the business of torturing myself.
"We'll have a bite and head back home," I murmur under my breath. Melody nods and follows me to an empty table. A few missteps aside, this evening is goingverywell. She is behaving in such a divine manner. I smirk and remember my promise. Oh, she will be wonderfully rewarded.
Scanning the room, I point out the various key players that she may need to remember. I'm not one for this fucking hierarchy—they foisted this predicament on both of us, really—but I refuse to be humiliated if she were to disrespect The Paimon.
Well-dressed lackeys and henchpeople flit about the periphery, gossiping and laughing. Melody is nearly finished with the salmon and has moved on to the fondant potatoes, silently chewing and gripping her cutlery with concerning force. Francisco, the Marbas's right-hand man, has a shit-eating grin on his face as he approaches.
"Would you look at this," he says. "Dante Lyons, happily wed. I never thought I'd see the day."
I grasp Melody's free hand and smile tightly at the man. "Nor did I, Francisco. Have you met my lovely wife? Melody, this is Francisco. He works for The Marbas."
She grunts and turns back to her plate. "Nice t'meet you." Stuffing the last hunk of salmon in her mouth, she chews and looks Francisco up and down.
"Charming. I must say, Dante, this isn't the sort of woman I envisioned for you. Certainly not someone of…" He chuckles. "… thissize."
Before I know it, both Melody and I are on our feet, and she backhands Francisco.
The room falls silent. Disgust and rage flood my veins as Melody heaves out feverish breaths. Francisco smiles and raises his hand to his pinkened cheek. I straighten my spine and look out at the room, meeting the gazes of all our spectators.
"I call a tribunal." I project my voice and lock my gaze on The Belial. His golden-brown eyes shine in the Edison bulb light, while his Rottweiler stands dutifully at his side. "My wife has been disrespected, and I will not stand idly by."
The eyes in the room shift from myself to The Belial. He reaches down and pats the dog's head. "Very well. Tomorrow morning, nine sharp."
Francisco scurries away as I sit back down and pull Melody into my lap.
"What's a tribunal?" she whispers into my ear.
"Justice."
Melody
Charlie's voice echoes in my mind through the entire drive home. His words spill from that other man's mouth.You don't need to eat that. You're huge. You're disgusting.Yet he's the dead one. I fucking killed him. And I'm very much alive.
I'm alive, I'm desirable enough for a man like Dante to stalk—god, I know how fucked up that sounds—not to mention marry. I look like a fucking icon. This luxe dress, these custom shoes. I'm a goddamnqueen. But that little shit. Francisco.
I want to know what his blood smells like. Ineedto know what color his fucking liver is. I don't hate myself for being fat, no, I'm well past that. The part of me died with Charlie.
