Breaking Him (Love is War 1)

I enjoyed getting a low class rise out of his privileged ass, and so that made me smile.

“What happened?” Bastian asked me.  “What can I do?”

“Nothing, he just needs some time.”  I pointed at Tiffany.  “And it would be best if he doesn’t set eyes on her.”

I could hear him breathing in there, hear his ragged panting breaths as he struggled with what I’d told him, and I actually started to feel guilty.

Such a little piece of information, but I knew I should have kept it to myself.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tiffany huffed.

As though he’d heard her, Dante opened the door, or as I liked to call him when he got like this, Hulk Dante.

Except even the hulk wore shorts.

His entire naked, agitated body was vibrating with rage as he caught sight of Tiffany.  “You,” he snarled, tossing a suitcase clean over my head and into the hallway.

It hit the floor and clothes went flying everywhere as it busted open on contact.

“What on earth?” she exclaimed.

“Get out!” he shouted at her.

Even I was a little wary to approach him when he was like this, but I did it, setting a firm hand in the middle of his chest.

“Dante, you need to calm down,” I said, trying my best to be a soothing presence, though soothing had never been a strength of mine.

I was much, much better at agitating.

The current Hulk Dante was a case in point.

He just kept staring at her, thick black hatred pouring out of his eyes in menacing, palpable waves.  “Get the fuck out of here!” he shouted at her.  “I don’t ever want to see your face again!”

She looked like she’d just been slapped.  She swayed on her feet.  “What?  But, why Dante?  What did I do now?”

In answer he disappeared into the room, reappearing a beat later with another suitcase, this one smaller.

It received the same treatment as the first.  And then came her purse, shoes, a blazer, a dress.

I looked at Bastian.

“I guess I’ll go ahead and load up her car,” he said helpfully, and proceeded to gather a huge armful of clothes into the large suitcase, and holding it closed, he lifted it and started down the hallway.

“Thank you,” I called to his back.

After Hulk Dante had emptied the guestroom of every one of her possessions he came back to hover in the doorway.

No further, because I was blocking the way, acting as a barrier between him and the object of his rage.

He let me.  I was tiny compared to him, minuscule, but he let me hold him in his place with just my will alone.

“What don’t you understand about get the fuck out?” he screamed at her, the sound of it booming through the house like the roar of a lion.

Her chin trembled.  “What did I do?” she asked, and started to cry.

“What did you do?  What did you do?  What didn’t you do?  You think I don’t know?  You think I buy your innocent act?  You and my fucking manipulative bitch of a mother ruined my life!”

“I’m going to tell your mother about this.  I’m going to tell her everything I’ve seen here.”

“You do that, but you do it fast.  Because if I have to look at you for one more fucking second—" He took a step toward her, but I was in his way, shoving into him, cutting off his tirade and pushing him back into the room.

He was a brick wall of a man, but he let me do it, let me distract him.

As much as I loved to watch him rip into her, as much as I’d love to see her throttled, I couldn’t sit idly by as Dante got himself into serious trouble.

Also, he was unhinged, unpredictable when he was this out of his mind, capable of forgetting important realities.

Like the fact that he couldn’t confront her about what I’d just told him, no matter what.

No matter what.

There were skeletons in our closet that the world could never know about, and if he went down this path with her, it would lead her straight to them.

I kept pushing at him, backing him step by step into the room, and when we’d cleared the door, I shut it behind us.

I walked into his chest, eyes closing as I wrapped my arms around his ribcage.

He was panting, shaking, so upset that instead of accepting my embrace, he raised his arms so they wouldn’t touch me.

“Don’t touch me.  You don’t even know.  You don’t even have a clue,” his trembling voice said to the air.

“What are you talking about?” I asked him absently, my hand going down to cup his scrotum.

His head fell back, and I could feel his agitated body trying to calm itself.

I had just the thing.  I got down on my knees.

He didn’t touch me as I sucked him off.

What do you know?  It worked.

I rose, licking my lips, eyes on his face.

His eyes were still adrift, lost to madness, but my tongue darting out caught his attention, and he seemed to snap back into himself.

He grabbed my face with both of his hands and started kissing me.

Eventually I pulled back.  “I need to start packing.  I’m going to find a flight out tonight.  I can non-rev if I have to.”

“You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

“I’m not?”  I don’t know why, but at this point, I was only amused.

“Try to leave.  See what happens to you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“If you ever looked at me once with what I know is in you, I would be your slave.”

~Emily Brontë