A few days prior, when the little She-Devil had somehow managed to influence Dante, Dante had felt an anger inside of him he could barely contain. Rage burned in his body like a hot flame, licking his heart. 

The flames turned his heart hard—and his mind mad.

Hate raked through him, a furious blade cutting through his gut.

Standing in the frame of a classroom-door, he watched the blond haired She-Devil fall to the ground, utterly exhausted. For a moment he contemplated giving her up to the council. He was sure that whatever it was she'd done, they didn't know she was capable of it.

No one, no one had ever dared interfere in the Promised Bond. Certainly not in his family. It was a sacred thing, even more so for Thrakos House. And she'd just done it by standing besides him and staring at him dumbly.

Though Dante had heard rumours of the Promised Bond being bent in ways no living thing would be able to repair, he wasn't expecting to find someone in Everett Valley even remotely capable. Yet here he was—standing in a building originally built for sacrificial rituals—shocked at how the blonde had stopped him from kissing his promised. 

She'd stopped all of those emotions with... 

What?

Dante wondered what it was this woman hid from him—or possibly everyone. But what bothered him more was that all the emotions that had arisen just moments ago, were suddenly gone and his core left empty.

Did Dante not deserve happiness?

Did he not deserve to finally find someone who would be his, who would understand him?

Where he had felt attraction, passion and desire in him, was now only rage and hate. The emotions that the Bond had called to life were snuffed out—dimmed. 

He could still feel it, still wanted to see Kendra. 

But the anger was stronger. Fiercer. She'd done that.

She'd done that to him!

Dante was sick of being angry all the time. The only thing he truly wished for was to be at ease. To let go and be himself, without being forced to do things he didn't want to. His shoulders carrying no weight—no responsibilities but one.

He wanted to lose himself in his promised, and for her to lose herself in him.

Staring down at the little She-Devil, time seemed to slow. His heated glare bore into her. When his hand reached down, anger blazing through him, he imagined wrapping his fingers around her throat.

She had no right.

"Mr. Thrakos," a voice said, sounding so far away, yet so near at the same time. 

Dante turned, slowly, until Mr. Markoff's face was just breaths away from his own.

The Immortal's skin was ashen.

The image of the dying forests swam to his mind then. Quickly, he tried to push it away. Remembering how abominable this creature was, he tried hard to keep his fury at bay. He wanted to rip this outlaw to shreds. To bring him to where nature was weeping. Where nature was withering away, dying agonisingly. 

Dante wanted the Immortal to suffer the same fate for it was his doing. 

His fault. 

In order to prolong his life, countless sacrifices were needed by everyone but himself.

Dante's obligations prevented him from ripping the abomination to shreds. Like they always did.

"Mr. Tharkos," the Immortal repeated, his pupils dilating while the air around them vibrated as if heat suddenly surrounded them.

Dante knew what that meant.

The Immortal was trying to influence his mind, to compel him. Whatever the She-Devil had done, this abomination knew and wanted to hide this incident.

The walking corpse was even arrogant enough to think that his mind-compulsion would work on Dante. He needed a lot of self-control to keep his sight on Markoff, and not look after Kendra. His gut screamed for him to follow her. 

She'd just slipped away, like sand between his fingers... And now he couldn't even try to get her back.

"Yes, Mr. Markoff," Dante answered, trying his best to mimic a voice of an emotionless shell, as if he suddenly had no mind of his own.

Picking up the girl, Markoff didn't break eye-contact with Dante. Dante could see, from the corner of his eye, that the little She-Devil was unconscious, lying in the Immortal's arms. It took him a lot of self-control not to look down at her to see if she was still breathing.

He hoped she wasn't. All he wanted was to follow Kendra to wherever she'd ran off to. 

He wanted her. So, so much...

Though when Dante listened more closely, he heard a soft and steady thump. 

Thump, thump-thump.

Flat and monotone, the Immortal continued. "Forget this happened. You arrived in class, got a headache and went home."

Nodding, Dante kept his voice and facial expression void of emotion. Controlled. "Yes, Mr. Markoff."

When the Immortal blinked, the compulsion ended. With it, the atmosphere stopped vibrating.

Although the compulsion didn't work on Dante, it still made him sick to his stomach. Every gift, every ability that was connected to magic had its price. The price one paid for the gift of compulsion was nausea for the receiver and writhing pain a few hours later for the giver.

It was the only solace Dante found in having played along. At least the bottom-feeder would suffer.

Though Dante wanted badly to find his promised and rectify the damage the She-Devil had caused, he couldn't let his cover be unveiled if he didn't do as the Immortal told him.

He took the opportunity not to go home, but to finalise his plan on getting into the Council Archives.

☼

When Dante returned to the Iarhus a few days later, there was but one thing on his mind.

Stalking down the hallway, he was intent on finding the little She-Devil. What he had read in one of the books he'd manage to obtain was connected to her. He didn't know how—he only knew that there had to be some kind of link.

She was a bundle of mysteries, he had to admit that.

Still, the hate he felt towards her plunged deep into his gut. He wanted to know what she was. 

Who she was.

Since Dante was one of the taller ones attending classes, most of the students were shorter than him. He could, therefore, see above the mass that moved through the halls.

It was also the reason he hadn't seen her coming—not until she smashed right into him.

Glaring at her, Dante was at a loss of words. He wasn't expecting to meet her this way. He'd wanted to pull her aside, drag her outside and force her to give him answers. Instead, she muttered a row of curses under her breath and tried to duck past him. 

Dante acted quickly and grabbed her by the arm, harder than intended.

She stared confusedly at the grip around her arm and then up at him.

Dante loosened it and let go, clearing his throat. He folded his arms in front of his broad chest.

"What are you?" he asked.

"Leaving," she answered and attempted to weasel her way out. Dante stepped in her way before she could do so, however.

"Oh, no you're not. Not until you've told me what and who you are," he deadpanned, shoving her into the cupboards. His muscled arms slammed into wood on both sides of her head.

Even when his knuckles hit the wood she didn't move a muscle. She sighed—which nearly drove Dante mad. How dare she pretend like she was better than him?

If he really, really wanted to hurt her—she would have been dead already. Yet here she was with the audacity to sigh as if this was all just a game.

"My name is Catherine Black, not that it's any of your business. And I advise you to stay away from me, or you will regret it," she hissed, pushing herself off of the wall.

She was uncomfortably close to him—and he was painfully aware of it. He wanted to shove her right back into the cupboards, hearing her bones slam into the wood.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to let go of his anger. It wouldn't do anyone any good, unfortunately, if the little She-Devil stopped breathing. Though it was a thought he kept at the back of his mind. The moment she proved to be useless, he would get rid of her.

Moving back, he first thought of letting her leave. His sight never swayed from her. And then he changed his mind.

"I already regret having met you. But I will figure it out, one way or another. You have more secrets than you can bear, and I'll find out every single one of them," he muttered, venom dripping from his voice. 

He was going to, even if it was the last thing he did. She wouldn't get away with what she'd done. He would make sure of it.

Her father was on that list, after all. The list of people that Dante and his brothers were hunting down.

She stopped and clenched her fists. When Dante saw her irises turn from green, to dark red, he furrowed his brows.

What the hell?

She suddenly squared her shoulders and stared at him with a fire burning in her eyes Dante knew all too well.

The next thing Dante registered was his gut being slammed against the other side of his body and his back colliding with some very hard wooden panels. The racket resounded through the entire hallway. Though pain screamed in his back, he kept his face still. He would show no weakness.

Dante had no weakness.

But what Dante could not keep to himself was how shocked he was. Never, in a million years, had he expected her to be so strong.

"Do that again and I will break every bone in your body," Dante promised.

He was determined to find out what she was hiding and he would destroy her once he had all the tools he needed.

"I'd like to see you try," she answered and turned away, leaving Dante to crack his bones back into place.

Once she was out of earshot, he let a painful grunt escape when one of his vertebrae snapped back into its original position. Damn, breaking one's spine was pretty damn painful.

How the hell had she managed to hurt him?

Chapter Question: So Catherine -did- break his back. What do you think of Dante?

Reader Question: What's your favorite movie? 

Oooh I love movies, I've got a ton I could name. But I think if I'd have to say one, it'd either be Footloose or Harry Potter.