Chapter 49
EMBERLINE
Iwoke in absolute quiet.
A choking silence pressed in around the walls of the castle, the entire island holding its breath. Beyond these walls, even the rhythm of waves against the shore was reduced, as if all of Venice knew the Don was on the verge of slipping away.
But Marcello dying didn’t wake me.
Instinct told me someone was lurking outside my door.
Gabriel and Nico assured me that every Dominico servant and soldier had been duly vetted and was trustworthy. The island was secure.
Yet the back of my neck prickled in warning,
I lay there on the sumptuous bed, tucked between silken sheets, staring at the vaulted ceiling overhead, the beams darkened by time. The candles I’d lit before falling asleep were still burning, and my damp clothing was in a messy pile on the floor.
I was in the guest section, far away from the Don’s room, away from the healers and the bustling servants and the smell of death. Gabriel had assured me this would be the best place to get some rest, and it was… until now.
I squinted through the curtains at the moon, trying to determine how much time had passed since I’d closed my eyes—minutes or hours—but the moon was nowhere in sight.
Exhaustion settled deep into my bones, the rising cost of too many sleepless nights, and the constant, gnawing pressure of trying to hold together a constantly fraying plan. I had only meant to rest an hour, anyhow, and spent most of that time drifting in and out of an uneasy half-sleep.
Not deep enough to pull me into the Underworld, which was both a curse and a blessing.
What would I have found there? My parents?
Or Death, waiting to reclaim me?
Footsteps moved in the hallway beyond the door—two pair, steady, controlled.
Dominico guards. They patrolled the uninhabited part of the castle once an hour.
Gabriel had split his available soldiers between the island’s perimeter and fortifying the castle itself, and while he would never admit it aloud, I sensed the strain in the air.
He was spread thin.
The room came into sharper focus—the opulent mirrors and gilt paintings, the glass candelabras, the gleam of old money that clung to everything. I pushed myself up, every aching muscle protesting the movement, and froze.
Dante was hunched in the shadows, crammed into a ridiculously tiny chair, his broad frame outlined by the faint light filtering in from outside.
He was lost in thought, his posture rigid, shoulders tensed beneath clothing stained to its limits.
Gabriel’s finely tailored clothes stretched precariously across his brother’s immense chest and thick arms, the collar and sleeves exposing dark, broken tattoos that had been edged with flames not so long ago.
“How long was I asleep?”
His head snapped up, eyes landing on me before his face closed off, as if he was afraid of the questions I still had. Questions I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to.
“Only about an hour. Go back to sleep. You need more rest,” he said after a moment, his voice soft, almost tender.
“So do you,” I countered, pushing myself upright, the sheets sliding off, revealing my thin cotton bra and bare shoulders. “Where is everyone?”
“Gabriel’s with the Don. Nico’s making another round of the island.”
And he was here. Watching over me. My heart filled with warmth, that fuzzy, breathless sensation I’d missed feeling when he wasn’t around.
His eyes sharpened, fangs dropping below his top lip as he focused on me with the intensity of a predator. A very hungry one.
“See something you like?” I lay back on the pillow and stretched my arms up over my head.
“I see the female I love,” he husked around his fangs. “The one who should be fast asleep, not making her husband promises she can’t keep.”
“Who says I can’t keep my promises?” I rubbed my thighs together, my pussy already soaking from having Dante close, from the memory of how he’d stood like a statue carved of pure flames, beautiful and bold and enduring.
And there was no telling when we’d get another chance at a bed, a quiet room, and the two of us together alone.
“Why don’t you get in here, and I’ll prove it to you?”
Dante didn’t move from the window, but everything about him sharpened, eyes cataloging every detail of my current, very willing position.
More boots thundered past the door, “…if Giovanni comes by water, we’ll be ready for him,” someone said, followed by an unintelligible response as they passed by.
Dante blew out a breath. “As tempted as I am, tesoro, and trust me, I am sorely tempted right now, I need to stay alert.”
“Marcello?”
“You should still be sleeping, Emberline,” he scolded gently, then dragged the chair closer to the edge of the bed.
“I don’t like seeing you this tired.” When I just stared, he laid his big, warm hand over mine.
“Any hour now, they say. The aunts are weeping like it’s the end of the fucking world.
I left Gabriel to deal with them; he has more patience than I do, even on his worst day. ”
“The aunts are a pain in the ass,” I agreed, running my fingers over his knuckles, counting every scar. “I’ll gladly stay here in the dark with you.”
So, the poison had done its work. I’d half-hoped the old bastard might pull through, but my uncle had won this round, defeating his enemy not by might, but by stealth, and I couldn’t help feeling he’d do the same to us.
“Any sign of Giovanni?” I asked quietly.
Dante shook his head, and the silence stretched longer and longer, both of us content to sit together in the quiet dark, hands laced together, waiting for the inevitable. Don Marcello would die, and his ring would go to Gabriel, and then… then the real fight would begin.
At least as Don, Gabriel could muster political support. Use the Draconi Brotherhood to force my uncle into submission.
And now we had the Basin, the fulcrum on which Gio’s entire plan depended.
Hidden away where my uncle would never find it.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and the floor instantly tilted beneath me as I stood. Dante was there immediately, arms bracing me up, body heat enveloping me like my favorite blanket.
“Got you.” He pressed his lips to my cheek. “Take it slow. It’s been too long since you’ve fed, and you’re running on fumes.” His lips thinned out, and I wondered if he was thinking about me feeding Gabriel. Yet another thing we’d have to address.
“I’m fine,” I told him.
“Of course you are,” he replied, his arms closing around me.
I swallowed, my mouth and throat dry in a way that sent me into a coughing fit.
Dante scanned the room, brow crunched together. “Damn. I’ll go to the kitchen and get you some water. Stay put.”
“Like I have anywhere to go.” I couldn’t stop smiling at having him back. At how normal this felt, like in our old house. “I’m glad to have my bossy husband back. I’ve missed you.”
He was already moving, throwing me a fierce grin before he disappeared through the door, and I flopped back onto the bed, wearing a matching, ear-splitting smile.
Sure, we had issues, but what married couple didn’t?
I wouldn’t trade my fire-breathing, stubborn, murdery husband for anyone in the entire world.
I closed my eyes, still smiling, still basking in the glow of this ridiculous romantic feeling, when the door opened. “Well, that was fast,” I said, “I thought you went to the…”
A wet, smothering cloth crushed down over my nose and mouth, and strong hands pinned me in place.
I held my breath, tears streaming from my eyes from the chemical fumes. I thrashed, but another set of hands held my feet together, a deep voice counting… numbers… The sound grew distant, distorted, as though I were hearing it from somewhere far away.
I was dizzy, I needed air, I had to… I sucked in a lungful of something sharp, searing my already sore throat. My strength vanished, cut away so cleanly, my body went limp. My vision blurred at the edges, dark creeping inward as the room spun and spun until I wanted to throw up.
Rough hands dragged me from the bed, then there was a thump and a dull pain as I hit the floor—but even that felt distant, as though I was held together by a gossamer thread.
Damn it. I knew there was someone inside the house. That was my last thought before I slipped into the gray twilight.
This time, I woke on a concrete floor; the air was freezing and tasted like limestone.
My mouth was horribly, painfully dry, my tongue thick, and my head pounding with a slow, relentless pulse that made it impossible to concentrate on anything for too long.
I was on my side, staring straight at a silver, industrial drain. I scanned my surroundings, stomach churning.
Low ceiling. Devoid of any character.
I pushed myself upright, and the gray box of a room lurched, spinning in a sickening circle. The darkness edging my vision slowly receded, leaving me retching up that bitter, chemical taste that permeated my lungs and coated my mouth.
Smooth walls. No windows. A single heavy door reinforced with iron.
This was the sort of place you were brought to die. Where they asked questions and inflicted pain and asked more questions, then hosed the blood down the drain when they were done.
I was barefoot in my underwear. No weapons.
In short, I was fucked.
“Godsdamn it,” I muttered, my voice echoing off the walls.
I could really use a glass of water right about now, and gods help these assholes when Dante got back to that room and found me gone. They’d better hope they didn’t leave a trail because he would make them suffer. I almost felt sorry for them.
I forced myself onto my hands and knees. The drug hadn’t worn off—my entire body shook like I was made of rubber—but whoever kidnapped me would be back soon, and I had to move.
I scanned the concrete room for anything I could use as a weapon. There, by the far wall. A pile of something metal. Seemed like a good option, at least to my fuzzy brain. I crawled away from that drain and was almost to the pile—realizing it was a long chain—when the door opened.
I froze, every instinct sharpening despite the fog still clinging to my thoughts.
Giovanni closed the door behind him with a soft, deliberate click. There was nothing hurried or uncertain in the way he moved. He was in control, and I was not.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he said, in the same pleasant tone as if we were about to have breakfast at the palazzo.
I forced my shaking limbs to cooperate as I arranged myself into a sitting position and met his gaze. “Do you drug all your guests,” I asked, “or should I feel honored?”
A faint hint of amusement touched his placid expression.
“Only the ones who cost me a great deal of trouble and money.”
Well, knowing I was a thorn in his side made me feel much better. “Good to know there are still some things you care about in this world, given you sold your soul a long time ago.”
His eyes flashed. “Dear niece, I haven’t had a soul in quite some time. I find them… bothersome, at best.”
He closed the distance between us with deliberate ease, sandaled feet silent on the smooth floor, the bottom of his brown robe swishing. There were no visible guards, but that didn’t mean we were alone.
It just meant I wasn’t a threat.
“You stole from me, Emberline,” he said, his tone the same as when he used to scold me as a child before smoothing into something crueler. “Now, tell me where you’ve hidden the Basin.”
I grinned up at him, letting the silence stretch. The fucker could wait.
“Now, Emberline. I do not have the patience to play games with you.”
“Joke’s on you, uncle,” I finally said. “I don’t have a clue where it is.”
For the first time, something shifted in his expression. A flash of anger gave way to amusement, a cunning smile curving his lips, his round face shining.
At some unspoken signal, the door opened, and Bruno stepped in, Rocco’s henchman squeezing his bulky body through the opening, pushing a metal table on wheels, the contents rattling loudly.
Part of his hair was burned off, and still-healing blisters covered half his face.
“Then,” Giovanni said quietly, motioning Bruno towards me, “this will be significantly more unpleasant for you than I originally intended.”
Watching Bruno park the table in place, I didn’t doubt that for a second.