Chapter 11

The Game Room

Going down the hallway, they passed the rooms Echo had already explored. “I want my own room,” Echo tried, eyeing the second bedroom door.

“No. I like you in my bed.” Dante glanced back with heated eyes and a slow smirk.

Echo didn’t see the point if they weren’t going to fuck. And he might have pressed the issue if he didn’t know that vampires hardly slept.

Dante led them out to the main open area. A slave was busy in the kitchen, cleaning up from breakfast, and another was washing windows in the sitting room. They kept their eyes averted and on task, blending in with the surroundings.

“The castle slaves,” said Dante. “They come and go. I can request vampire servants if you prefer.”

Well, that was… considerate of him.

Echo shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he said, watching the man clear away what little remained of the food. Maybe he’d get a chance to talk to them, get information. Maybe he could help them.

Dante continued into the sitting room, and Echo turned to look up at the loft area with the clear glass railing. Dante followed his gaze.

“Shall we?” Dante said, arm stretched out toward the staircase. This time, he wanted Echo to go first.

Echo treaded lightly up the steps. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, aware of Dante behind him, likely getting a good look at his ass.

Finally on the second floor, Echo took in an area that wasn’t like the rest of the apartment. Here, there was character—maybe a look into something of Dante Vittori. Along the far wall was a polished bar of deep brown wood, old world and lavish. Mirrors lined the shelf behind the bar, and crystal bottles gleamed with either amber or clear contents, and there were wine bottles too. There was enough alcohol to make the entire rebel compound forget their woes for a good long while. But the sight of the stuff made Echo’s stomach sour.

Once, Axel had allowed him a drink. It tasted awful, like fire down his throat. But Echo couldn’t refuse when Axel kept filling his cup. He didn’t remember much of that night, but he woke up with new marks and lasting pain. Axel wouldn’t tell him why he’d been punished, so he must have really fucked up.

Echo had feared the day Axel would offer him alcohol again. He feared getting drunk would make him carelessly disobey, earning another punishment. That night wasn’t so long ago, but those scars were gone now. And here, Echo looked at the bottles meticulously placed on Dante’s bar, and he longed for another of Axel’s punishments more than anything.

Dante swished by Echo and pulled him from his aching thoughts. The vampire lord went next to an odd looking table, made from the same glossy dark wood as the bar. It was rectangular, and most of the surface was sunken down. That part was covered with a soft green material, and six holes were built into the four corners and two long sides.

“A pool table,” Dante said as his hand glided over the sleek wood. “It wasn’t as popular as cards was back in the day, but some saloons had them. This pool table came from one called The Empire.”

Echo touched the smooth, polished edge. Dante was speaking of the time before the supernaturals enslaved everyone. Much of history was lost to humans, and Echo couldn’t help marveling at this piece of it. That a vampire had decided to preserve it—for himself, sure… but still.

“What is pool?” he asked, brushing his fingers over the soft green part of the table, thinking it was maybe made of wool?

Dante smiled, and his face lost some of its dark edges—just some. He leaned down, and from a cabinet within the table, he started pulling out balls and setting them on the green surface. They rolled smoothly and looked weighty, about two inches in diameter. The numbered ones were either solid in color or striped, one through fifteen, and one ball was entirely white with no number.

Next, Dante brought out a triangular frame. It fit the fifteen numbered balls within. Dante rearranged some, then rolled them to a designated spot on one side of the table. The white ball he placed on the opposite side.

Dante met Echo’s eyes as he carefully lifted the triangular frame and put it away beneath the table. The game was set up.

“There are several games that can be played on a pool table. I prefer eight-ball pool,” Dante said. He walked over to a rack hanging on the wall near the bar. Echo hadn’t missed it when he first looked around the space, and he was glad to know now that the long cane-like sticks were for the game.

Dante took one of the sticks and inspected the narrower end, then he rejoined Echo at the pool table. There was a lightness when he walked around toward the white ball end. Dante genuinely enjoyed this game.

“Using the cue,” Dante began, holding the stick out to show, “the player strikes the cue ball into the object balls with the goal of getting them into the pockets.”

He bent over the table, placing his right hand on the green and resting the end of the cue in the crook of his thumb and index finger. His muscles flexed as he used his left hand to slide the cue back and forth a few times, nearly tapping the white ball, but not quite.

Dante’s powerful form was focused, ready to strike. His tattoo peeked out from the rolled-up sleeve on his left arm, the one controlling the pool cue. Echo could see now that it was leaves on a vine. He wondered if he’d find out more about it. Then he wondered why he cared. They’re monsters, Echo. All of them, Axel’s words pounded in his head. And Echo tried to concentrate on that as he watched this vampire delight in showing him this game.

With a controlled thrust, Dante struck the cue ball, sending it into the triangle and breaking it apart. They collided together and bounced off the sides of the table, and two of the object balls rolled right into pockets. Dante straightened with a pleased grin. Then Echo remembered to breathe.

Dante opened his mouth to speak, but ringing from his pocket stopped him. He pulled out his phone, briefly glanced at the screen, and answered.

“What?”

Echo couldn’t hear what was said, but he watched Dante’s face transform back into his dark-edged self as he listened.

“I’ll be there shortly,” he said, then hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He walked to the rack and returned the cue before facing Echo again. “Do not leave the apartment while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?” Echo asked, nearly having to jog to keep up with Dante down the stairs.

“To change my shirt.”

He was already heading down the hallway to his room.

“And after that?” Echo persisted.

“Work.”

Echo drew up short just as Dante entered the bedroom and pulled open his shirt. He didn’t even bother with the buttons as they just ripped apart. Dante carelessly dropped the shirt to the floor. With the knife hole, blood, and torn-off buttons, it was entirely ruined. 

Echo could see the full tattoo now—more of the vine going up his bicep—but his gaze traveled over dusky nipples on golden velvet skin and sculpted muscle.

Echo blinked and caught himself when Dante disappeared into the closet.

“Take me with you,” Echo said.

Dante emerged with a fresh white shirt, and Echo turned away as he buttoned it up. The self-satisfied smirk on Dante’s face told Echo that he’d been caught looking.

Alright,” Dante said, buttoning his cuffs. Echo shot his gaze back to meet those depthless eyes. “Come see what it is I do, my little rebel.”