Chapter Text
He haunts her at night when she’s sleeping. His great gnarled head is horned and grotesque, but he has the flesh of a man, and he uses her dreams to show her what he wants to do to her young, untouched body.
I am Kimaris, he whispers in her ear as his forked tongue tastes her throat. Twenty legions of demons bow beneath me. You don’t know how lucky you are.
She wakes sweaty and panting, mind racing with images of herself being ravished by some dark, ancient being. His words ring in her head. You’ll make such a beautiful bride of Hell.
Her heart pounds as she lies amongst the tangled sheets, catching her breath as dawn light fills the room. She squeezes her legs together against the throbbing between her thighs, betrayed by her own body. How can something so vile and malicious make her ache with such need?
Every morning she leaves her bed confused and full of self-loathing, and every morning she is more and more terrified. What is she going to do?
“Why me?” She asks him one night, heady with guilty lust at the ghost of his preternatural touch.
His fanged mouth splits into a grin. You’re untainted. Never have you known the desires of the flesh. Until me.
“Oh.” She doesn’t have the strength to form more words, as he lures her higher and higher, almost at the peak—
The rubber band snaps, and she wakes up, a plan half-formed in her mind. To remove herself from his designs, she just needs to lose her virginity. Simple, right?
He drains his beer and thumps the bar for another one. He rolls his shoulders even though they don’t ache anymore and cracks his neck for good measure. Kicking demon ass will never get old, but being thanked once in a while? Might be nice.
“Not seen you around for ages, Dante. Where you been?” The barman plants a bottle in front of him.
“Missed me did you, Lewis? I had to go away for a while.” He swipes his thumb through the condensation on his beer and takes a drink.
“I’ll say. You back for good?”
“I’ll let you know. I haven’t decided yet.”
Lewis nods before being called away by another patron, leaving Dante alone with his thoughts.
He’s not sure what he expected from his homecoming, or why he thought things would differ from before, but he’s just underwhelmed by everything. To their credit, Lady and Trish were pleased to see him—for all of five minutes, before the three of them slipped back into old habits like they were something a little more comfortable. And of course, Vergil’s off being Vergil, but hell, even he has Nero now.
And him? The guy who’s saved this mortal plane more times than he can count? Alone, in some bar where the clientele gets younger every year and his pickup lines work less and less.
Christ, he’s on a downer tonight. Nights like this one are when he half-wishes he was back in Hell with his brother, both of them doing what they do best. He’s not sure of his place in the world anymore, with young blood cropping up everywhere to do his job for him. Not to mention he can’t even call himself the strongest of Sparda’s kin, a title he’s protected for so long.
He should just go home. For how empty and dusty the place is, the shop is his own space, and if he’s going to mope around anywhere, it should be there.
He’s about to chug his beer and get up, but that’s when she walks in.
A pretty little thing on unsteady feet in pointy heels and with shining innocent eyes, she’s like Bambi learning to walk in the big bad world.
He looks down at the bar, doesn’t want her to catch him staring, and smirks to himself as the click of her heels brings her ever closer. Tonight could look up after all.
She orders a drink and perches herself on a stool a few seats away, her legs shimmering in black gossamer stockings. Damn.
They both look up, their eyes meeting for a second. Her painted lips tremble into a coy smile and she glances away, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
She’s a looker, no doubt, and she must know it, but there’s a vulnerability about her that suggests she isn’t told so very often. It’s criminal.
No one else in this lively establishment has caught his eye, not for a long time, and it’s refreshing to let himself check her out. She’s a mesh of opposites; prim and proper with the cut of her little dress, but the red slash of her lips and her black-rimmed eyes betray something in her that hungers.
He recognises that same hunger in himself. A monster sits beneath his skin, gnawing at his bones and starving.
He counts to three before grabbing his beer and moving to the seat next to her. He hasn’t been with a woman once since coming back topside, that could be what’s wrong with him.
She tenses for a moment before sipping her drink and relaxing her shoulders, turning to him as he sits down beside her.
“I haven’t seen you here before. I’m Dante.” He offers his hand, and she takes it, her palm soft against his, her lacquered nails sharp and glinting as she withdraws.
She introduces herself and twirls her hair between her fingers, her cheeks tinged pink. Her owlish eyes blink and she looks up at him through her long lashes. “I don’t come here that often.”
“I’ll bet. I would have remembered you for sure,” he says, and smirks as she looks away, bashful.
“Flatterer.” The corner of her mouth tugs into an answering smile and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, before she loses her confidence and gulps down more of her drink.
She intrigues him. It’s like she’s fighting with herself over something, or like she knows the steps to the dance but she’s not sure yet if she wants to let him lead her. So, he backs off a little, gives her some room to breathe.
“I don’t do this a lot.” She laughs, breathy and nervous.
He takes pity on her. “Well, tonight must be my lucky night. What made you decide to take the plunge?”
She shrugs and catches him with a wry smile. “Oh, you know…” She blinks and then her eyes smoulder. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
He sucks in a breath. Damn. “Yeah, it’s been known to happen occasionally.”
“To be honest with you, I wouldn’t have been too surprised if you’d said no.” She watches him from the side of her eye as she brings her glass to her lips.
The compliment tickles him, and he grins, straightening his shoulders. Her drink is empty, and he signals to Lewis to get her a refill. Lady won’t like it—how can he even think about buying girls drinks when he owes her so much money?—but he puts it on his tab, anyway.
“Thank you.” The shyness of her smile is endearing. How she can have anything other than full self-confidence is baffling.
“You’re welcome.” He holds her gaze for as long as she lets him, before she giggles and looks down at her hands.
There’s something raw and sensual under the protective layer of her naivety, and a little more is peeking out between the seams, a tiny flame with the potential to only grow. Maybe she’ll open herself more to him if he plays his cards right, or maybe she’ll burn him to the ground for trying.
But hey, when has he ever been afraid of a little fire?
“So, Dante.” She pushes her hair behind her ear and leans an elbow on the counter, swivelling towards him a little more. “What do you do?”
“I’m a handyman.”
She nods. “You must be good with your hands.”
He catches the wicked gleam in her eye and the two share a laugh. He inches closer. “You could say that.”
“I can’t believe I just did. That was awful.”
“No, no, it was great. You’re doing great.” His face lights up as she returns his smile.
She hides behind her drink again, before setting it down. “Do you get a lot of damsels in distress that need things fixing?” She slides the pendant of her necklace between her fingers, drawing his eyes to her soft skin and the neckline of her dress.
But he’s a gentleman, and he meets her eyes again. Hopefully the heat there is because of him, not the liquor he’s feeding her. “I’ve rescued one or two damsels in my time.” He leans in, speaking softer now into her ear. “What about you? Do you need rescuing?”
She swallows. Bites her lip. Turns her face to his and the world around them stops mattering, it’s just her and him. She reaches out and places a hand on his wrist.
“Yes,” she whispers.
He wants to kiss her right here in front of everyone, but she wouldn’t allow it, so he catches her hand in his own instead. “Why don’t we finish our drinks and then I take you home?”
She clutches his hand tight and nods, her eyes steely. She downs her drink in a very impressive time and he follows suit, before standing and guiding her from her seat.
Lewis comes to clear away their glassware. “Nice of you to make sure she gets home safe, Dante.”
She hides her face with her hand, but she’s grinning. She straightens and rolls her eyes. “You’d tell me if I was about to go home with a complete jerk, right?”
“Absolutely.” He winks. “You don’t have to worry.”
“Phew.” She smiles, and Dante’s just warm and glad that she’s enjoying herself.
“Shall we?” He offers her his arm, and she links hers through it.
She looks up at him with her sweet eyes and once again he’s struck by her resemblance to Bambi. Would she find the nickname as cute as he does?
“Let’s go.” Her fingers twine through his and she squeezes his hand.
He squeezes back and leads her through the bar and out onto the street. It’s dark, and there’s not many people around, so he takes the chance and leans down to kiss her.
She pulls away in an instant. “Oh!”
Well, shit. “That’s not how that usually goes.”
She laughs, her eyes crinkling. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting—”
Maybe he can roll with this. “Not a good surprise, then?”
“I just wasn’t ready. I—” She swallows her giggles. “I am now, though.”
He shrugs. “Nah, moment’s gone.”
“Hey!” She slaps the back of her hand across his chest, playful. “That’s not fair.”
“What are you going to do about it, princess?”
She struggles with herself for a moment, he can see it on her face, but it’s suddenly paramount that she makes this leap on her own. He waits for her, holding his breath. The street is all but empty.
She reaches up with both hands and circles her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her level as she stands up on her toes to reach him, and seals her mouth over his.
Her lips are warm and firm, and he wraps her up in his arms and lets her kiss him, then takes the lead when she loses her nerve. She moans, a quiet, barely there sound that ignites his passion and he pulls her body flush against his.
A car passes them and honks its horn, jarring them apart. He curses, sure she’ll be turned off and cold, but she laughs, grinning up at him with sparkling eyes. She’s beautiful like this.
He wraps an arm around her shoulders. “So, your place or mine?”
“Mine.” She leans into him and points down the street. “This way.”
If there’s a chill to the night air, he can’t feel it. He’s more alive than he’s felt in a long time, his insatiable hunger for once kept at bay.
If she’s Bambi, what does that make him?