Not my sire’s depravities, but the rot at the very core of us, the corruption of self that came with immortality. This bored, casual cruelty, and I especially hated having this ugliness anywhere near my wife.
My gaze snapped behind Emberline.
To where Gabriel trailed behind her, Nico at his side. Both males flanking her like two loyal knights, and I couldn’t stop myself from lurching forward, jealousy burning a hole in my heart.
Valeria yanked me back. My wife’s gaze narrowed on where Valeria’s hand lay on my chest, to the length of her body pressed against mine, and Emberline didn’t so much as flinch.
She stepped forward, chin high, expression smooth. Vampires parted ways for her—fangs down, searching for signs of weakness.
For a fraction of a second, her gaze locked with mine.
Too fast almost to see, hurt flashed across her face, a near-invisible tremor in her lips, the way her throat bobbed with emotion when she swallowed. Something inside of me shattered. Broke into a million pieces, all of them with her name written on them.
And that’s when I knew… this wasn’t pretend.
Not any longer.
I wanted to drag Valeria’s hand off my chest, shove her away, and plant my body between Emberline and every monster inside this castle. To shield her from their corruption, their endless thirst, their fucking greed.
But that was a stupid impulse. Not part ofthe plan.
So, I stayed where I was.
Hating myself.
Hating this fucking plan, this fake marriage, everyone in this fucking room.
I should never have involved Emberline in my vengeance. Never married her, never kissed her, because now everything was complicated, and seeing the hurt on her face was going to fucking break me as the Overseer’s whip had never managed to break me.
Servants appeared with silver trays, crystal flutes gleaming. One stopped in front of her; another in front of me. I took a glass, gritting my teeth when Valeria’s fingers drifted lower, sliding along my waistband, making sure my wife saw.
Every part of me was frozen and unfeeling, pinned down beneath her dark, empty stare, my soul slowly withering away beneath her disappointment.
“To new alliances and old ones,” Rocco called, raising his drink. “To the secrets we keep and the lies we tell ourselves. And to the hope that Emberline doesn’t poison Dante in his sleep tonight. Young love is such a fragile thing, after all.”
Laughter again, wicked and anticipatory.
Emberline’s attention stayed on me like a brand, but I didn’t dare look at her. Not with Valeria pressed to my side. Not with Marcello and Rocco watching, searching for an opening they could exploit.
Valeria’s breath tickled my ear, and I wanted to fucking puke.
“She’s prettier than I remember,” she whined. “I thought Enzo’s daughter would be soft, like him. Like that brother of hers. Luca’s going to get eaten alive.”
“My wife is not soft,” I snarled without thinking.
Valeria’s fingers dug in deeper. “No, she isn’t. Still, she’s a DiRavello. A pointless bloodline, good only for social connections and money laundering,” she went on, oblivious to my fraying temper. “I’ll bet she just lies there with her eyes closed,” she hummed, turning that predatory stare on me. “Doesn’t make a sound, does she?”
My hands shook with rage. I wanted to torch this entire fucking castle, then sweep my wife out of here, so we could watch it burn down together.
“One more fucking word about my wife and that will be the last thing you ever say,” I hissed, fury hitting me like a sledgehammer. “I’ve put up with your bullshit long enough, and my patience is at an end.”
Her lips parted, but whatever she saw in my face had her keeping her poisonous mouth shut.
Good fucking thing because she would never disrespect my wife again.
Satisfied with his spectacle, Rocco threw up his hands, the music swelled, and the crowd kicked back into motion—couples moving toward the dance floor, some to the shadows, where they writhed together in a hedonistic display.
Through it all, Gabriel and Nico stuck close to my wife, jealousy racing through me again and again in an ugly, never-ending loop.
