His eyes burn over every inch of my body, and Matteo makes it easy for him. He spins me slowly for Dante.
Dante runs a hand over his face. “Let’s go kill people, because then we’re locking the world out and fucking you until your heat is here. Then we’re just going to keep on fucking you until your heat ends. This is a totally win-win situation.”
He’s wearing a matching tuxedo to Matteo’s, and he looks just as dangerous as my Beta does. Both of them stop looking at me like they’re about to devour me and get back to the task at hand, helping me get ready.
Dante drops to his knees in front of me, and for half a second, I think he’s going to press his face into the junction of my thighs, until he lifts his hand to show my knife sheath, with a new knife sitting inside it.
“Sorry, this took a while to arrive, but look how stunning it is.” Dante pulls out the blade and passes it over. While he gets busy adjusting the straps around my thigh, I get a feel for the knife.
My new knife is similarly shaped as the one now embedded into the wall above Valentine’s bed, but this one is overly feminine. Along the edge of the blade are small markings, and when I look closer, I realize it’s been etched with images of the lilies that Valentine likes so much. Down the center, and on both sides of the blade, are a set of gems.
“Ceylon sapphires to match mine and Val’s blue eyes.” He flutters his eyes, as if to prove his point, before going on. “Matteo chose cognac diamonds. The blade is CPM ultra lightweight and will cut through almost anything. Do you like it?”
I’m completely overwhelmed.
When I don’t answer or even look at him, he uses a push of his designation for me to respond.
“Yes, I love it,” I say, lifting my eyes from his present to him.
“Good. It’s important to me that you do. What about how it feels? Too heavy, or is the handle too big?” he asks, and he steers my wrist so he can see the way the handle fits in my hand.
“It feels as good as it looks. I promise.”
“Good.” He takes it from me and returns the deadly gift to its sheath.
Both he and Matteo take a step away, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out they’re appreciating how I look dressed only in my panties and knife. Their vanilla and Amaretto scents cloud the room, settling over my skin like a fine mist.
“I think you’re going to look incredible in the dress my brother chose.” Dante runs his hands through his near perfect hair, looking suddenly nervous. “If you don’t like it, just say, okay? But it’s got pockets, and he’s already filled it with an EpiPen.”
Matteo lifts the dress in question, and it looks like Vivienne Westwood wedding couture, but in a soft sky blue. When he unzips the gown and holds it open for me to step into, I have to sit down on the bench in the dressing room because itisVivienne Westwood. I dip my head down between my knees, my happiness spinning out of control.
“Will you all please stop spoiling me? It’s too much,” I whisper, trying not to burst into tears. My chest feels so very full.
Matteo sits next to me on the small dressing bench. “No can do. Sorry. You’ll have to get used to how we show our love for you. And we’re not caught up in some material bullshit. We’re choosing things based on what we know will look amazing on you, but also what we hope will make you feel amazing. Val said he selected this dress because the cut will showcase your shoulders, and the sky-blue color is an old Sicilian tradition. He was so caught up in visualizing you wearing it, the price wasn’t a factor. Same with Dante’s knife. What is important to us is if you actually like it.”
Dante is less subtle as he tips my head back with a hand under my chin. “Baby, you need spoiling as much as we need to spoil you. The money we spend is not even a fraction of how we feel about you. And that’s what should be overwhelming, because it constantly scares me. Now, let me get your gun on, so we can go kick some serious fucking ass, probably ruin your dress in the process, before we really do ruin your dress when we tear it off you. Okay?”
Everything they said makes sense, and the ways they both rushed in to calm my last-minute jitters are as different and as beautiful as they are. I turn so Matteo can help me get the gown on while Dante straps a gun holster on my thigh.
Of course, the dress fits like a glove, and the way it makes me feel is something money can’t buy. But it’s the look Dante and Matteo share when I confess to them how much I adore the dress that brings the most joy.
Valentine is waiting in the kitchen for us, the dogs by his side, and he nearly drops the phone in his hand when he sees me. His blue eyes flash before he takes a step toward me. He points to the small bouquet of white lilies on the island, and though I see them in my periphery, he has my focus. Each step he takes brings him closer, and his presence hits first, like a battering ram through my defenses. “Are you armed?”
His mood is off, though, he’s angry. And I respond immediately, my chest aching.
I stop him from walking off. “Valentine, thank you for my dress. I love it.”
“Good,” he snaps, pulling his arm away. “I can’t even describe how I feel seeing you in it.”
“Try for me?”
A storm gathers in his eyes, then he jabs his finger aggressively toward me. “I want to lock you in the most securebuilding in the world and never let you out. It makes me so fucking angry the way I want to covet you so much.”
The welling apprehension I was feeling floats off after he explains himself. But Valentine's irritation is still apparent. I invade his personal space. His anger is aimed at only himself and is something his powerful mind has conjured up. Much like my own doubts and deep scars haunt me, Valentine clearly has his own issues. Whether these reactions and emotions are warranted or not doesn’t detract from the way they sometimes kick our asses.
I scour my nails over the back of his head to hold his attention, even though it’s clear he just wants to go. “Talk to me.”
His jaw is slammed shut, and he talks through his teeth, hissing almost. “We should never have asked you to do this.”
