Page 66 of Potion of Deception (Potion of Deception #1)

Dante was watching her. Sometimes he glanced at her, however she didn't pay attention to him doing whatever he did.

The colors of the world around her slowly were fading away.

She felt so dumb for not taking Dante and the vampires seriously enough.

It led her right into the trap and the worst of it – she still could feel sympathy for him…

A vampire who doomed his kingdom and turned it into rivers of blood.

“You're unusually quiet,” he blew and lowered his eyes to the fire, adjusting it with a wood stick.

He was so annoyed by her questions before, wishing she'd leave him alone, but now he'd trade anything for her endless questions rather than her being so silent.

And it was unbearable – she was so sad and drooping.

He might admit he missed conversation with her, her laugh, her bittersweet answers to his silly jokes.

Violette didn't respond and kept her eyes on the fire.

“Your father is doing well,” he said and it finally made her look into his eyes and linger her gaze.

“How do you know?” she breathed, not believing he brought her father into conversation.

“I have connections.” He moved the branches on the fire. “He leaves his house very often these days.”

She couldn't believe he made someone look for her father.

Why?…To hurt him or to make her feel better?

Was he trying to gain her trust and support?

Did he start to talk about her father to manipulate her into thinking he cares about her?

Either way, she was happy to hear he was doing better.

She missed him. And she didn't have a chance to see him after his healing – to see the same man he was a few months ago .

“Mostly he is going out with a shabby brown journal,” he added.

It made Violette smile to herself.

“It's his writing journal,” she said as her face lightened with a warm smile. “He takes it whenever he goes, saying inspiration can come anytime in any place. I don't remember the last time I saw him writing…”

“Soon you'll see him again.”

Violette smiled, fixing her eyes on the fire as the face of her father surged in the back of her mind.

Dante wasn't that nice with her before, even his voice was softer. And she thought she should shoot her shot and know more, to benefit herself and perhaps…to understand him.

“What about your parents? Were you close?” she asked, folding her hands.

To her surprise, he didn't look detached by her question – no coldness or frown.

“I don't think so,” he said wistfully and then raised his eyes to Violette – she was looking at his hands.

“I thought we had a pretty understanding family but I don't think this way anymore.

I don't think we had a bad relationship but they were far away from being perfect. Maybe, only when I was a kid. Things were easier at that time. When I was older I still was satisfied with our relationships…and then everything went down. ”

Her eyes raised to him but he wasn't looking at her anymore; he was staring at the fire lost in his thoughts.

“When you became a vampire,” she said quietly.

“I didn't want this life,” he said. “Vampire venom was made as a punishment. Almost everyone who turned thinks it's a curse.”

“Before, I thought you like this life.” Her fingers clenched into the silk fabric of her skirt.

Dante's brows scrunched. “Death is more of a blessing than living this life. The irony is that you can't die,” he said with a ghost of a mournful smile, his eyes sliding to the side.

“You probably had a good life,” she quieted, “you were a prince.”

“I'm not complaining. I had my role and place in the world.”

“Your life could be totally different,” she gasped thoughtfully.

“I don't like to talk about something that was never meant to happen.”

Violette felt his coldness creeping back.

At least, she had a little time to know what was in his head.

And the inside of it only lit up her curiosity more, leaving her quite astonished.

She was so sure Dante was a selfish vampire who had no shame and morals but it seems he had a lot of regrets in his life.

Maybe, he wasn't the person he was before – she'd never met him – but she could swear she could still feel something alive in his soul.

A little light very close to dimming into darkness.

What if she was wrong? What if he wasn't a monster and didn't try to manipulate her?

What if he was sincere with her? Could it be true? She really wanted it to be.

Violette lingered her gaze on him for a solid minute before letting herself speak again. “What are we gonna do with the map now? Without the Sideralis flower and Emersus powder I can't make the potion to break the spell…”

“I know one witch who has the rarest collection of ingredients and potions. If she doesn't have it then I don't know who does.”

“And how does she feel about you?” One of her brows arched in question.

“Despite everything you might hear, not everyone hates me.”

“I didn't mean that,” she blurted.

“Don't bother explaining yourself, it doesn't matter.”

Her eyes raised to the sky, thinking about his words.

“Hmm,” came out of her mouth. “So you do have friends.”

“I wouldn't call them this way and they wouldn't call me like this either. I call them partners with whom I have mutually beneficial relationships.”

Violette squinted. She didn't know why but the word 'partners' discouraged her for a while.

After all, she was not the only witch he'd known, and it made her feel something fluttering in her stomach.

Why would she be bothered by it? Why did she even think he doesn't know any witches except her?

And why did she care if he had a nickname for her too?

Nonsense. It had no reason to make her feel whatever was going on with her.