Darius used to say they were beautiful, and they were. Sophie would blush at the praise as he’d wrapped an arm around her and declared they were the one bright spot in this otherwise drab apartment. I had to agree.
“Like it or not, we’re linked now,” Dante said as he stood and leaned against the wall to the kitchen, watching me. “You’re my responsibility.”
“Responsibility?” I faced him, arms crossed, and raised a brow. “So I’m no more than a toddler to you?”
“You’re learning to read like one,” he teased, the corner of his lips quirking up in a rare smirk. It was the first sort of smile I’d seen from him since training the day Cosmo told me about Prima’s journal.
I blinked at him, lips opening and closing like a fish out of water, until I remembered to be angry with him. “I can handle myself, thank you very much.”
“Your lack of success in our sparring would suggest otherwise.”
“Well, how am I supposed to beat a man a full head taller than me whose been training his whole life and is so…so…”
“Incredibly strong?” he guessed, and I snorted, my lips spreading into an amused grin before I could stop myself. “Handsome? Debonair?”
“Debonair,” I repeated dramatically. “Absolutely not. But hey, look who has a sense of humor once he’s outside of the First Ring.”
His grin widened.
“Okay, let’s say you have me beat in the muscles arena,” I relented with a sigh. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to knock you off your feet if I can’t even budge you with a firm shove.”
“It’s about momentum.” Dante straightened from his spot against the wall and stepped forward. “Come at me.”
I raised a brow and gave a pointed glance at the cramped apartment around us, at the very breakable furniture and semi-full boxes. “Not the time or place, Viper.”
He opened his mouth to speak but a knock on the door interrupted him. I strode across the room and threw it open.
“Adrian,” Sophie breathed from the other side. Relief flooded her chocolate eyes as she tossed her brown hair over her shoulder and strode past me into the apartment. “You’re back. I just stopped in to get some of your things for you. I overheard Maurice griping about how you’d gone to live amongst those assholes in the First Ring, that they practically kidnapped you and dragged you up there. I thought—”
She stopped, her lips popping open in a perfect O once her gaze landed on the enormous, First Ring brute standing in the center of my shabby living room, hands in the pockets of his black jeans.
“I thought you were so lucky!” She pivoted so hard, I couldn’t help but snort. Sophie punched me once in the shoulder before tossing an unconvincing grin over her shoulder to Dante. “What I wouldn’t give to live among those—”
“Assholes?” he interrupted, and she chittered nervously in response.
“It’s alright, Sophie,” I told her, looping my arm through hers and leading her into the living room. “He’s my partner, which apparently makes me his liability.”
“I believe I used the word responsibility,” he grunted.
“Same thing.” I shrugged.
“What’s he doing slumming it down here with us lowers?” Sophie asked, narrowing her gaze as she ran a shrewd eye over Dante.
“I believe he said something about wanting to attend one of our legendary ragers.” I tapped my chin with my finger, suppressing my grin.
“Absolutely not,” Dante spat. “We have to train. And I’ve already been gone long enough. If my mother sees that I—”
“Scared of your mommy?” I quirked a brow. Sophie grinned wickedly beside me.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “This is childish.”
“But it’s working.”
“A bit.”
“Graham said there was a party by the eighth tonight,” Sophie said.
“The eighth?” Dante raised a brow. “As in the tunnel where the eighth Trial is held?”
