Chapter 26
EMBERLINE
Dante’s shoulder dug into my stomach as he carried me out of the chapel and into the night.
I thrashed and kicked, fists beating at his back, legs all tangled in the skirt of my ridiculous white dress, the fucking corset crushing my ribs.
Marble floors flashed past, wall sconces became streaks of gold, and the muffled roar of shouting swelled behind us—then we were outside with the storm tearing at my hair, rain soaking my back.
“Put me down,” I hissed, hammering my fists into his rock-solid back. “You arrogant, egotistical, fucking…”
His rough hand tightened around the back of my bare thighs, callouses scratching, “Keep fighting, piccola.” He chuckled, like rough silk over broken glass. “Give them a good show.”
I froze.
Because suddenly, I heard the footsteps rushing behind us, the hushed whispers. The discreet click of a cell phone camera. Another click, followed by more frantic whispering. The Dominico family did not air their dirty laundry in public.
Except, apparently, tonight.
Then we were inside the palazzo, Dante’s boots thudding against marble as he took the main staircase two steps at a time.
I glimpsed faces as we passed landings—shocked servants with open mouths, a pair of Draconi Brotherhood guards parting to let us pass with flat, predatory eyes, hands resting on the hilts of their blades.
Don Marcello’s voice thundered below, ordering, cursing, commanding someone to stop his son.
No one tried.
Of course not. No one had stopped him at the altar either.
Not even me.
My stomach clenched around the blurred memory: the priest’s trembling voice, the flash of a silver knife, the slippery slide of blood between our palms, the power of Dante’s magic flooding the chapel.
Gabriel’s stunned, furious face as his brother strode up the wedding aisle as though he owned it, invoking the ancient right of the firstborn son.
The eldest son.
The rightful heir.
Gods… my husband.
I should have done something. I should have refused or fought back, or… why the fuck hadn’t I stopped the ceremony? Now my plans were shattered like glass.
“You ruined everything,” I hissed, breath sawing against his back, all too aware of his big, warm hand banded across the back of my thigh, the scrape of his callouses against delicate, untouched skin. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
He laughed once, a dark, humorless sound. “Oh, I have a very good idea, Emberline DiRavello.”
He purred out my name like a challenge, as if he knew every dark thought, every wicked motive I had against his family and was daring me to carry them out.
Which I fucking planned to, especially now.
This asshole was toast.
At the top of the stairs, Dante turned right, then slammed through a pair of carved double doors as if they weighed nothing. I shoved my hair out of my face, a tangle of curls and pearls, and all I saw was white.
The bridal chamber.
Candles flickered in every wall sconce, casting soft light over pale walls and frescoed ceilings.
A fire crackled in the carved marble hearth, perfuming the air with cloves and old wood.
Rose petals—crimson and velvety—were artfully scattered over the massive four-poster bed, like drops of blood against the virginal white sheets.
A setting prepared for Gabriel, the favorite son.
For the alliance we were supposed to consummate tonight. An alliance forged in blood and pain and lies, on my unwilling body.
My throat burned.
“Put me the fuck down,” I snapped, “I don’t care what right you invoked down there, I—”
“You care,” my captor—my fucking husband—said, closing the doors behind him with a firm click as the lock slid home.
Only then did he set me down, a mess of tumbled fabric and tangled hair, emotions so wild, I could barely catch my breath.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, a new prison locked into place—a low pulse throbbing in the air, like a heartbeat. The hairs on my arms rose as something unseen settled over the walls, the floor, the doors. A shimmer of dark power, familiar, like the shield in the chapel.
He’d warded us inside.
And I didn’t have magic.
But I’d never needed magic to hold my own. I slapped Dante as hard as I could, hand open, putting all my strength and frustration behind the blow. His head snapped back, water flying from his wet hair, then ever so slowly, he turned his head back to me.
“Got that out of your system, tesoro?” he asked roughly, “or do you want to hit me again?”
“I want to pound you into dog meat for what you just did.” My chest was heaving, the edges of my vision dark with fury as I braced myself, waiting for him to retaliate, but all he did was rub his chin, a bright red handprint glowing on his cheek.
Against the flickering candles of the pristine bridal bower, my new husband looked even more feral than during the ceremony. His long, dark hair had been unevenly hacked off with a knife, curling damply at his neck, tangled, as if he hadn’t bothered to drag a comb through it for a decade.
Scars marked every inch of exposed, corded flesh, faintly silvered scars gleaming on his cheeks, as though some beast had tried to rip his face off and almost succeeded. His wet coat hung open, black shirt half unbuttoned, revealing a triangle of wet, glistening skin marked with primitive tattoos.
A monster of a male, accustomed to killing, with a questionable moral code that probably made me look like a newly professed nun.
Just perfect.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” I braced my feet apart and regulated my breathing. I had five weapons in the bathroom, and any one of them could take this fucker down. I’d dematerialize back to our palazzo in the city, then…
Then what? Join a fucking convent?
I had no backup plan, no strategy except infiltrating the Dominico family and bringing them down. After dedicating my entire life to carefully anticipating any and all contingencies, I realized this stupid marriage was my only play until I came up with something better.
“Please step aside,” I sounded calmer this time, “I need to use the bathroom.”
Dante’s gaze slid over me, slow and assessing.
“Yes, I know, the dress is ridiculous. This wasn’t my choice.” The bodice was boned so tightly I could barely breathe, not with the way his blue eyes lingered on the angry red marks where the pearls bit into my skin.
A nerve in his jaw ticked.
I eyed that red mark on his cheek.
“Truly, you must think I’m an idiot, tesoro,” he purred, prowling forward, and I squashed the urge to back away, or even worse, to run.
“If I know you at all, you have about a hundred weapons stashed away somewhere close and cannot wait to stab me with every last one of them until I look like a pincushion.”
“You sound pretty worried for someone who looks like he just crawled out of a fighting pit. What damage could little old me possibly do to a great big brute like you?”
He tilted his head. “Oh, it’s hard to say.
” He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of my fucking knives—the ones hidden so carefully in the bathroom—and tossed the blade on the bed.
“But I would imagine, given the callouses on your hands and the muscle tone in your arms, you are capable of quite a lot.”
I stood there, seething, as the rest of my knives joined the first, each of them landing with a quiet whoomph among the rose petals and white satin, until even my thin, metal pick was staring me in the face, right along with his smug, victorious smile.
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I believe in being prepared.”
“For your wedding?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“For life. In case you haven’t noticed, the world is a scary place. I expect you wouldn’t know that, because you’re a stronzo who makes it even scarier.”
“What’s your plan?” he asked, and the question actually sounded sincere.
“Destroy your family, bring the Dynasty to its knees, and avenge my father. Not necessarily in that order.”
“I mean, how do you plan to go to the bathroom in that thing?” He waved a scarred hand up and down the nightmarish dress. “I’m not trying to be a smartass. I’m actually confused as to how all of that even works.”
Now that was a valid question. I reached behind me, fingers clawing for the knot at the top of the stays. Which, of course, I couldn’t fucking reach, because this day wasn’t enough of a disaster already.
“Turn around,” his voice was thick.
I bristled. “Don’t give me orders. I’m not some—”
“Turn around, Emberline.” His tone dropped, not louder, just heavier. A voice loaded with that deep, commanding note I’d heard in the chapel when he’d woven his magic through the priest’s words.
Every fiber of my being yearned to obey his order, and I despised him for it.
But the bodice was laced too tightly; I couldn’t reach the knots myself without becoming a contortionist or possibly dislocating a shoulder. I turned and presented my stiff back, every hair on the nape of my neck prickling at having him behind me.
His fingers brushed the bare skin between my shoulder blades as he found the first knot. Calloused. Careful. Competent.
“You won’t believe this, but I’m not the villain here,” he murmured as he worked, undoing the laces with efficient precision, goosebumps rising where his breath skated over my skin. “I came to right an old wrong and possibly save you from making a fatal mistake.”
Breathing hard, I snapped, “Says the lunatic who stormed in, stole his brother’s betrothed, and fucked up my carefully laid plan.”
“You mean your uncle’s plan, don’t you?” Dante cut in, his fingers annoyingly brushing against me every time he undid a knot.
“The one he probably conveniently framed as him helping you avenge your father? Or helping your brother prepare to take over the DiRavello empire? That plan? Your uncle is a snake, and you’re too smart to be used, Emberline, too clever not to see through his plotting. ”
I balled my hands into fists, tears pricking my eyes, glad he couldn’t see my face. Fuck this asshole. Fuck him. Dante Dominico didn’t know me; he had no idea what he was even talking about.
He stopped working, a long, hot wash of air skating over my shoulders as he sighed. “But you were grieving, and Giovanni can read minds, knows how to manipulate emotions.” The last words were quiet, but there was such bone-deep bitterness in them, I almost turned to look at him.
Almost.
“My father trusted my uncle,” I said instead.
“For six hundred years. My uncle has never betrayed our family, and…” I paused as those fingers worked their way lower.
“You can’t say the same about your sire, can you?
If Gio was the snake your family makes him out to be, don’t you think Enzo would have seen the truth? ”
“Love blinds people to the truth, and your father loved with his whole heart, tesoro.” He tugged the last lace free, and the bodice sagged, sweet, sweet air rushing into my deprived lungs. “There. Why females wear these torture devices, I will never understand.”
I kept hold of the heavy bodice because all I had on underneath was some sorry excuse for underwear and my heels. But… I cast my gaze wildly around the room.
“Over there. Can you hand me my clothes, please?” I jerked my head to my black dress, tossed carelessly behind a chair.
I didn’t dare move, because one step would have this damned thing sliding down and pooling around my feet, and being naked right now in front of this asshole would send me over the edge.
He picked my clothing up carefully, folding everything over his arm, walked into the bathroom, and set them on the sink.
“Get dressed, Emberline, and we’ll talk about what comes next. Let’s see if we can agree to a truce, shall we?”