Companions (not sure yet)

Dante paused just inside his bedroom door, staring a bit incredulously at the woman across the carpet. An arched brow slowly rose over azure eyes even as lips curled in a small smile. What was she doing in here? If past incidents were any indications, the red-haired Amazon had made it quite plain she’d rather gut him as soon as breathe in his general direction. Those crystal orbs were drawn behind her, however, as the huge blade on the wall began to pulse with its own amethyst light, asgivigiving reason for her presence. Hm, fondling the Alastor, was she? He was mildly surprised she wasn’t a charred bit of cinders on the floor right now. Which posed a question in itself…


But he turned back to her, still frozen to the carpet, it seemed. Even from this distance, his sharp eyes could see the fine trembling of her body; what did she think he was going to do, turn her over his knee and spank her? Now there’s a thought, he snickered with a grin. Quite so, he could just envision that little image; she’d gut him for sure should he try something so stupid. But he shrugged and pulled the towel from his neck, flicking it absently as he sauntered across the room, apparently heading for the shower when she didn’t answer. He knew she was watching him like a hawk; he was surprised his flesh wasn’t blistering from the hatred er ger gaze. The platinum head shook a bit; no matter what, she’d always see him as a demon, not as a man. That had been evident from their first violent meeting.


The knowledge gave his tone a bit more acid than he’d intended as he said, “Well, either take root or something; I’m getting a shower, and I know you don’t want to see that…me being the demon that I am.” He regretted the words as they left his lips, seeing those lovely emerald eyes grow cold and frost-bitten, her chin rising with stubborn pride. Damnit, he thought sourly, seeing her apparently find her feet and flee the room, slamming the door behind her. He snarled under his breath, wanting to slap himself. “Real smooth, pal,” he chided himself harshly, feeling the childish urge to slam his fist into the wall. Instead he bunched up the towel and launched it at said wall, the fabric just slithering down to the floor. Unsatisfying.


Once in the shower, the scalding water doing minor wonders for the knots in his bunched shoulders and arms, Dante sighed as he leaned back into the stinging spray, scrubbing his scalp vigorously. It wasn’t his fault he carried demon blood, he thought sourly. His father had been a demon prince, woken to justice and rewarded for his valiance by living on this plane. Sparda’s son meant to carry out his father’s task, obliterating all demons that would threaten this world, why should the fact he share their blood make any difference? Lucas didn’t mind, but then, Lucas hadn’t suffered losses like Jayden had. Shit.


And why did he even care what that hellbitch thought? Dante growled as he turned, letting the hot water beat against his chest. Damnable females all, they were good for one thing…well, maybe two or three more. If his past luck was any indication…better leave that right there, boy, he thought with another snort. Trish he’d loved as a sister, but she’d disappeared about six months ago, she and Lucas took a mission which ended with Lucas returning alone, looking half-dead and scared out of his wits; odd, for him. No amount of cajoling, threatening, or pleading would get the mercenary to discuss that mission. Dante was left with only the news that Trish had vanished and Lucas was done talking about it. Must have been bad, to scare Lucas like that.


And Alya, hells and damnations. Small, dark, sexy as hell, lead singer for a rather impressive rock band. But she’d been unable to cope with his profession, and he didn’t love her or her body enough to give it up. She’d chosen her own career over him, which suited him fine; he wasn’t up for bright lights and all that fawning bullshit, gods, turned his stomach. His blood stirred slightly as his mind’s eye called up her image in perfect detail; photographic memory just one of the many gifts his demon heritage blessed upon him. Large dark eyes, smoky and appealing, supple hips that swayed just so, full pouty lips just begging to be ravaged, good Christ…her small delicate hands had worked such magic on his body. But even the hot physicality between them hadn’t been enough to keep them together. She’d disdained his quest; he’d been disgusted with her need for stardom. All in all, a quite satisfying relationship, if an explosive one, he recalled with a grin.


But now, thanks to Lucas’s damnable machinations, he was stuck with another around his place. One that hated the very ground he walked on, it seemed. To his annoyance and irritation, his perfect memory called to mind said Amazon; all that flaming hair, leather, long glorious legs…Jesus, he snarled and with a string of blistering curses, yanked off the hot water, grinding his teeth as the icy water permeated his skin, but didn’t help in cooling his blood. He could see her in vivid detail, brandishing those guns, both barrels of the eagles pointed straight at his eyeballs and the only thing he could see was a drop-dead gorgeous woman telling him to sod off, unbeknownst to her that such language would only go straight to his back brain, making his blood thrum hotly through his veins. He was wired odd, he supposed, violence and bloodlusrnedrned him on. And my God, did both surround that woman like a perfume cloud, he could smell the fragrance of steel and leather that seemed inherent to her skin every time he ‘accidentally’ brushed past her. Made him damn near dizzy, that.


With another strangled groan that seemed to come from his toes, Dante slammed his forehead to the tile, grinding his teeth hard enough to break the enamel. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He clenched both fists then plastered palms to the tile as well; he would not, by damn! He wasn’t some rutting animal who couldn’t control his own damned body, he thought with an evil snarl to said form. Biting on his lower lip hard enough that he tasted blood, the princling turned off the water a bit violently, stomped out of the shower, slinging curses and clothes as he went, only to flop down face first on his tousled bed, instantly regretting that, as his damn traitorous mind and body called up rather provocative scenarios involving his previous bedroom visitor. Groaning as his hips shifted, all his heightened senses tuned to the slightest nuance of touch as well as the other four, he finally gave up, knowing exactly where this was headed. Blue eyes bled to bright crimson as demonic blood took over and powerful hips slammed against the mattress, lashes shielding those eyes as they closed to bring one Jayden McAlister to mind beneath him as his body bucked and writhed, force of his passion making the bed creak and smack the wall with ferocious intensity.


Ten heartbeats later, fingers clenched in the sheets as he kept a strangled yelp in his throat, conscious he wasn’t alone in the compound. But sweat beaded his forehead and his lips were marked from his teeth. Christ, this wasn’t good, he thought, nearly melting against the sheets. Not good at all…Any woman who could strip his self control that way, when she proposed to hate his bloody guts was going to be a problem, he decided lazily, rolling to his back and staring to the ceiling, eyes finally fading back to their original cerulean blue. But his generous mouth curved in a genuine smile as he yawned and propped a hand behind his head, snagging a pillow and drifting into a slight doze, not a problem he’d mind solving…not in the least little bit.