Sophie Oak: Beast

“We’re going to find a way,” Meg vowed. Her face was solemn. “I won’t let anyone put her down like an animal.”

“Of course not, darlin’,” Beck agreed, but there was worry in his eyes. Dante knew that sometimes it wasn’t easy to be the king. “We’ll figure out some way to help the poor girl.”

“You say she’s violent?” Dante heard himself ask. His brain was working overtime. A violent woman who could serve as a consort. A woman who frightened the gnomes. A woman who tried to kill the men who touched her. She sounded awful—and a little perfect.

“That’s what Rhys said,” Beck corrected. “He says she’s out of control. The women can’t get close to her cage.”

“And you’re sure she’s a consort?”

“Again, according to Rhys, she is. The demon said she glows. I could tell you if she was a bondmate. Bondmates can usually pass for consorts, too.” Beck’s voice became suspicious. “Why? Do you want to come and have a look at her, then? You could tell just by looking at her.”

Cian was staring at Dante with narrowed eyes, but he said nothing.

Dante shrugged. He would be able to tell if the girl was a consort by her glow. It appeared as a slight halo around the consort’s form. It was a lovely, infinitely appealing sight to the royal vampire. “Sure, why not?”

It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. It wouldn’t hurt to go take a look at the girl. He got up to follow his cousins out. At the very least, he would meet someone who didn’t know who he was.

It was late in the afternoon when Dante found himself walking through the marketplace following Beck as he strode toward his goal. The door between the Vampire plane and this plane—a refugee plane—was easily accessible. There were hundreds of ways to get to different planes. Vampire scientists had theorized that there were still thousands of planes to be discovered. Many scientists would love to work with the Planeswalker clans to map out all the different doors. Unfortunately, the Planeswalkers came from a plane called Hell, and they didn’t have a problem with eating scientists.

Rhys of the Gentle Hills had the largest and most impressive tent in the marketplace. There was no question the gnome had done well for himself in the years since the civil war in Tir na nÓg.

Rhys’s tent was at the center of the small village, and everything had built up around it. Dante liked the marketplace. It was filled with the weird and wonderful things that could be found across the planes of existence. He even liked the feel of dirt beneath his feet. The surface on this plane was radically different from his home. It was closer to Tir na nÓg. This particular plane had been deserted when Beck and Cian had fled their home. It had been used by vampires as a place to hunt in the old ways and to raise cattle.

There was no smog here. The sun was bright and everything was open and airy. At home, the surface was tight and confined. Sometimes, the sun didn’t get past the clouds of pollution that clung close to the surface. It was why most vampires who could afford it never left their high homes.

Dante adjusted the hood of his jacket to better cover his pale skin. The sun was stronger on the Faery planes. His sunglasses had already adjusted to the light. The nanites in his clothing adapted quickly to keep his temperature in an optimal range and ensure the ultraviolet light didn’t burn him.

But what would it be like to walk unclothed in the sunlight? What would it be like to laze about unencumbered by clothing while the warmth of the sun kissed his skin? He would never tell anyone, but that was what had attracted him to the sunscreen project.

“What do you think you’re doing, cos?” Cian asked. He’d allowed Beck and Meg to get ahead of them.

Dante hoped he projected an air of curious innocence. Ci was right. Ci knew him far too well for Dante’s comfort. “I just wanted to come along. It might get dangerous. You never know, you and Beck might need backup.”

Cian’s gray eyes rolled. “Yes, the warrior king requires backup. He’s not only the greatest warrior to rise from the Seelie in a thousand years, but he’s a storm lord, too. I think he can handle one small female. Now, spit it out, cos. What happened with your dad last night? Don’t lie. I know that look in my uncle’s face. I saw it when he caught me and Beck with his personal assistant ten years ago.”

Dante’s eyes went wide. “You two did Helena? Seriously? How did I not know that? She’s twenty years older than you.”

Cian’s smile was slightly lecherous. “She was very experienced. We were just young lads looking to learn. It was a beautiful afternoon that we got our asses kicked for. Uncle Alex had that look in his eyes last night. What’s going on?”

Dante shrugged as they passed a goblin vendor selling all manner of odd items. “He was a bit upset. He thinks there’s going to be some bad press about the DL.”

“I believe the talk shows labeled you ‘Asswipe of the Year,’” Cian confirmed. “I didn’t think that was a term serious journalists would use, but they seemed happy with it.”

“Stupid tabloids,” Dante cursed. They were always on his back. The paparazzi waited to capture his fuckups on tape for the world to see. “What do they want me to do? I didn’t even like many of those girls. Most of them just wanted to be DL stars. Should I have asked one to marry me so I didn’t look like a jerk and then break it off later?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone on the show in the first place,” Cian said with a sensibility that set Dante’s fangs on edge. “I find it hard to believe you were serious about finding a wife from twenty females desperate enough to share one man.”

He hadn’t been serious. He could admit that to himself. It had seemed like a fun way to waste some time while the bio-med unit worked on the sunscreen project. Dante had been surprised at how joyless dating twenty hot chicks was when there was always a camera around.

“Besides,” Cian was continuing, “it really works better the other way. You only have one dick, man. How are you going to keep that many women happy? It takes two of us to keep Meg happy. If you really want to go down that road, you should find a friend and get a woman between you.”

“I don’t want a ménage,” Dante growled. The last thing he needed was some dude in bed with him. It worked for Beck and Cian because they shared a soul. Dante had never shared anything, and wasn’t about to start now. “I don’t want anything at all, if I’m honest. I just don’t have that choice anymore.”

Cian stopped in the middle of the street, the dust churning under his feet. “What does that mean?”

“It means my father ordered me to get married or else,” Dante admitted harshly.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Dante sighed and began walking again. “He kicked me off the sunscreen project. He told me I can’t get back in until I have a consort at my side. He apparently thinks getting married will make me seem less like an asswipe.”

“You can’t get married just because your dad tells you to,” Cian insisted.

Dante snorted inelegantly. That was the pot calling the kettle black. “I don’t know why not. You were certainly going to, or have you forgotten a frigid filly named Maris? Are you trying to tell me it was your idea to bond with her?”

Before the civil war, Beck and Cian’s father had arranged their bonding with no thought to love. Dante remembered Maris. She’d been a highborn bondmate. She’d also been one of the coldest women he’d ever met. Cian couldn’t stand her. Many nights, Dante had listened to his cousin bemoan his fate.

“That was different,” Cian insisted.