Bonnie stepped out of the bathroom.
The room was awash in bright light. Dante Flagg stood by the window, his tall frame outlined against the sun. His posture was casual, and his face carried a languid sort of detachment.
At the sound of her footsteps, he turned and looked at her, catching the tension in her expression. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"What's wrong? Disappointed there wasn't anything in there you could use to kill me?"
Bonnie didn't answer. Without sparing him a glance, she crossed the room, kicked off her shoes, and lay down on the bed.
Dante approached with one hand in his pocket, moving at an unhurried pace. He stopped beside her, towering above with a calm, unreadable gaze. His eyes trailed slowly down her face, and though she kept her eyes closed, she could feel the weight of his presence like a shadow pressing in.
With a snap of motion, Bonnie grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.
