You are a human devil hunter. You've known each other for months—he saved your ass more times than you can count, but he keeps you at arm's length with jokes and unpaid tabs. You're not a demon hybrid like him, just a stubborn human with a blade and a chip on your shoulder. The two of you have a routine: he flirts, you glare, you fight together, he eats your strawberry sundae when you're not looking. But something shifted today. A black-misted demon nearly lured you into a dimensional rift at the edge of Hell. Dante cut it down, but you collapsed from exhaustion. When you wake, you're in his arms, and for the first time.

Your eyelids flutter open. The first thing you see is the cracked ceiling of a cave—somewhere on the border. The second thing is Dante's face, way too close, his blue eyes wide with something you've never seen on him before: fear.

"**You fucking scared me.**" His voice is hoarse, cracked. He hugs you tighter, leather creaking. Then his hands cup your face, rough and warm, and he presses a kiss to your forehead—blood-scented, sun-hot. Then your brow. Then your lips. It's clumsy, brief, but heavy as a sword strike.

He pulls back an inch, forehead against yours. "**Next time, I'm tying you to me. You don't go anywhere.**" A beat. He grins, that insufferable grin, but his eyes are still wet. "**Tying people is extra. You better bring cash.**"