“Hm.” Nico’s gaze flicked toward the closed salon doors that the male heads of Houses were undoubtedly locked behind. “The talk is that Rocco is seducing him over to the dark side. They’ve been in there long enough… they might be right.”
Something hot and ugly flared in my chest.
“He is not easily swayed,” I snapped. “Not by anyone, especially Rocco Demente.”
Nico’s head tilted, studying me. “You don’t like mespeaking ill of your…husband, do you? Could this be the love match everyone is talking about?”
“No. He’s not…” I pressed my lips together, so I didn’t say anything stupid, and then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I took a sip of wine. It was too sweet, too heavy, and I instantly regretted my choice.
Nico’s mouth curved. “For the record, if I could have stopped the ceremony, I would have. But I couldn’t get through the fucker’s magic. Gabriel’s heartbroken. So am I, since you and I were getting on so well. Besties, almost.”
“You knew me for like half a day.” I rolled my eyes. “Stop saying ridiculous things, Nico.” But for some reason, I went all warm inside, as if he actually meant what he said.
His gaze sharpened, interest sparking. “And what do you plan to do with him?”
“Excuse me?”
“Dante, the guy you’re married to. Remember him?” Nico’s tone stayed mild. “You’re clever, not the type to waste assets. So, what will you do with him, now that he’s yours?”
He’s not mine, I wanted to say, but the words stuck.
Because the truth was…he was mine.
Not in the tender, romantic sense Nico and the rest of them thought. But in the only language that mattered now—blood, revenge, and power—Dante was mine as surely as I was his. Our bond had been sealed in front of witnesses and priests, our veins opened, our blood mingled together.
But while purpose bound us together tighter than blood, hate was what drove us.
“That’s a big assumption, Nico, that I have any plan at all. Maybe I’m just trying to swim through these shark-infested waters,”—I lifted my glass to the glittering crowd—“and not get eaten alive.”
“Such a beautiful little liar you are.” Nico laughedquietly. “Be careful, Emberline. You’re starting to sound just like the rest of them.”
“Iamone of them,” I snapped, annoyed, for some reason. “I’ve been one of them since the day I was born, and I will be one of them until the day I die.”
But I didn’t want to be.
Not with how Nico looked at these bloodthirsty creatures—with pity and a fair amount of disgust.
But I needed them to see me as a beautiful, breakable thing, a novelty. I cared that the whispers were about how I’d been used and not how I was going to use them right back. And trust Nico to be the only one here to see me for what I really was.
Even after knowing me for like… a couple of hours.
Then Emilia’s fingers were tightening on my arm, dragging my attention back to her. “It’s time,” she declared, her face shining with excitement. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
“Time for what?” I asked, fear curdling the wine in my stomach as she led me away.
“For the Rite, naturally.” She flashed a smile, all High Priestess now. “Did you think we gathered everyone together tonight to drink wine and gossip about what happens in your marriage bed? That first ritual was a sham, Emberline. Tonight, the two of you will be bound properly. In a proper ritual by a proper officiant.Me.”
Terror mounted with every step as Emilia led me toward the center of the hall, where candles were arranged in a precise circle. In black, glossy obsidian, a symbol was inset into the stone floor, and a shallow silver bowl sat atop the marking, engraved with glowing sigils.
The room quieted, conversations fading away like smoke.
One by one, DiSangue priests emerged from side doorsand stairways, robes so black they absorbed the light, those hideous red markings glistening at the base of their throats, until I was surrounded. I caught the briefest glimpse of Gabriel, Nico two steps behind, pale eyes picking up the candlelight.
Where was Dante?
I’d heard terrible tales of this island my entire life, and they all came back to me now, stories of sacrifices and ritual killings, of depraved blood ceremonies and decapitated bodies. I subtly ran my hand down my skirting, confirming my knives were still in place.
“Lord Dante Dominico. Lady Emberline DiRavello. Tonight you will be joined by our customs, in blood and in vow, before the gods we serve.”
