Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I figured there wasn’t much he could say to render me speechless, but that was exactly what he did. His piercing eyes held mine and I searched their cool depths for anything that said he was being sarcastic. But I didn’t see even a sliver of deception.
“I’m going in to get another,” Magnus finally said as he motioned to his empty bottle. “You still good?”
Since I’d barely taken more than two sips of my beer, I merely nodded.
Because I was too fucking confused to do anything else. I heard footsteps and the door opening and closing, but I remained lost in my own little haze of emotion.
What the fuck just happened?
Chapter Eight
Magnus
The bottle of beer I was pulling from the fridge barely cleared the door before it was violently slammed closed.
“What the fuck did you mean by that?” Dante asked, his voice sharp.
His anger caught me off guard and I automatically took a couple steps backwards to put some space between us before I caught myself. Despite all my years of training and the fact I was more than capable of defending myself, I still tended to physically prepare myself for a fight when confronted with anger, especially when it was coming from someone I knew…and trusted. I was still, in many ways, a product of my less than ideal childhood.
But I managed to marginally relax when Dante made no move to close the small amount of space between us and I realized he didn’t actually seem angry…well, not entirely anyway.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” I began cautiously.
“Out there!” he snapped as he pointed towards the front door.
When he didn’t continue, I said, “What? Do you mean what I said about already having a bodyguard?”
Dante’s eyes flared with some unnamed emotion. “You know what, Magnus? You may think I’m a joke, but I’m damn good at my job. So, fuck you!” he snarled and then he was suddenly turning away from me. I instinctively reached out to grab his arm.
“Dante-”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Dante snapped and he tried to jerk his arm free. He came at me then, though not with his fists. His hand hit me square in the chest as he attempted to shove me away. My self-preservation instincts kicked in and I dropped the bottle of beer. Ignoring the sound of shattering glass as well as the sensation of cold liquid dampening my pants leg, I grabbed Dante by the arms and used my greater weight to force him backwards until his back hit the wall next to the fridge. He wasn’t happy that I was restraining him, but he held back from going full force on me like I suspected he could have.
“Get off!” he bit out. His hair was hanging in his face from the struggle and since I was still holding on to him, he had to jerk his head to try to get it out of his eyes. I was half tempted to release one of his arms long enough so I could push the dark curls back myself, just to see what they felt like.
“Calm the fuck down,” I ordered coolly, willing myself to remain in control even as Dante’s lithe body brushed mine as he tried to pull free of my hold. I waited to see if he’d go for my lower body with his legs like I would have done if someone had been restraining me in a similar manner, but he didn’t, for which I was grateful.
“Fuck you,” Dante responded, his breath coming in and out in heavy pants, though I didn’t understand why since our tangle had lasted mere seconds.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I bit out. His level of fury made no sense to me. One second we’d been talking like two adults and the next second he was coming at me like some kid throwing a temper tantrum.
“Let. Me. Go.”
I didn’t, of course, but since he’d calmed down somewhat, I took a moment to try to figure out what had set him off, since I doubted he was going to tell me himself if the firm set of his jaw was anything to go by. I ignored the heat that was running up my arms from where my palms were wrapped around Dante’s forearms. He’d taken off his jacket at some point and had pushed up the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt, so I was actually in contact with his skin for the first time.
And it felt so fucking soft and warm that I just wanted more.
“I don’t think you’re a joke,” I began as I thought back to what Dante had said to me. “And I meant what I said outside.”
“Yeah, and next you’ll be telling me you like cock and suggesting I bend over so you can prove it.”
I knew his comment was meant to rile me up, which it did, but in a whole different way. Because his words were just a little too close to the truth. My own anger ratcheted up as I said, “You know what, Dante, why don’t you use that mouth of yours to say what you mean instead of using it to push people away?”