Prince of Fire | Dragonfire Book One

Capitolo Otto

Dracula sought the decadence of empires and whispered lies in the ears of leaders in order to fulfill his goal.

~ Draconic Book of Songs

Chapter Eight

All Dante could do on the drive back to Finn's house was curse himself. Why the hell did he give his own name, and not an alias, to the huntress? Why did he even follow the second pair of directions on the machine after meeting his mate the first time? Why did fate seem to torture him so relentlessly? He couldn't even talk to the curator, Evelyn, without going through his mate, the huntress.

And the huntress. Close up, and in the light, she was stunning. Her dark eyes were framed with long, dark eyelashes; they seemed to see through him under a cloud of suspicion and intellect. They seemed to draw him in, making his traitorous body yearn to hold her, despite the adamant refusal of his mind. He couldn't submit to that desire; all he was certain of was that she would betray him and rip his heart out if he let himself be too close to her.

Damn the mate bond. His heart could close itself off for the time being, as it had for centuries. All he needed was information anyway.

Venting mentally didn't diminish his frustration on the way back to Finn's place. Dante all but flew out of the car and into the house before he demanded for Finn's presence.

"Phineas!" Dante yelled, slamming the door and feeling as if smoke was pouring from his nostrils. In full form, he could actually experience that, but it seemed as if his anger translated that feeling into his human form. His anger amplified in the resulting silence and darkness.

"Phineas, where are -"

"I'm over here," Finn interrupted, speaking quietly from the dark corner of the room. He was casually sitting on a chair, blankly staring out the window and at the moonlit yard. His relaxed poise was a stark contrast to Dante's rigid form.

Still livid, Dante demanded, "Why didn't you tell me that the huntress was my mate?" A little warning beforehand would have been nice. Maybe he wouldn't have felt as if he had been punched in the gut.

Finn finally faced Dante and impassively replied, "You never asked."

"Bullshit," Dante immediately growled, annoyed by Finn's nonchalance. "I asked you who I was going to meet."

Still, Finn found a loophole. "But you never asked if your mate and the huntress were the same person," he said, almost indifferently. "I don't understand why you are so angry. Shouldn't you be happier finally finding that mate of yours after centuries of not knowing?"

"Yes, I should be overjoyed that I finally meet the woman who will betray me," Dante spat sardonically. Already, he could feel his emotions getting the better of him. What happened to keeping his heart shut and being logical?

Finn replied quietly, "Does it really matter? Cherish love while it lasts, even if you know the dreaded outcome."

The hollow tone in Finn's voice made Dante pause. It almost sounded like he was speaking from experience. Rage left Dante's body and cold understanding filled the gap. Those were words of personal wisdom and history. He suddenly remembered Finn's excuse for being reclusive: the death of his blind human. Merda. Had that human been his mate?

A paralyzingly cold took ahold of Dante's body. No wonder Finn seemed to be going blind and acting more oddly than usual. Losing a mate affected more than one's soul; it tormented the mind and placed strain on the body. Finally, Dante released his blame on Finn. His intentions meant well, even if they weren't received kindly.