When I was done, I licked his strong throat, placed a lingering kiss on the long, white scar, stark against his dark skin. So much suffering. So much pain.
So much strength.
“I’m going to tuck you in, go take a shower, then we’re going to sleep. The rest of the day. Together. Inmybed.” His glowing eyes never left my face. “Turn that brain of yours off for a few hours. We’ll figure out what comes next, tesoro,” he promised.
“And what does come next?” I asked because turning my brain off was a no-go at this point. My carefully constructed world lay in pieces, and I didn’t know how to begin putting everything back together.
“We live happily ever after, of course.” His smile was gentle, rising over me, six foot six of strong, vampire male in his prime, covered in scars because he’d been betrayed by his own father.
The father we were going to kill.Together.
And maybe that’s why I let Dante tuck me into bed, fluff a pillow under my head, and turn out the light without so much as an argument.
46
DANTE
Nico was waiting for me when the sun came up.
“Calling this a kitchen is generous, though I did find the coffee,” he lifted his cup in salute.
Maybe he was right. The cracked walls were more brick than plaster, the cabinets were lacking doors, and the tiny gas stove only worked half the time. But my wards thrummed in the walls, a reminder that for all its decay, this place was safer than any palace in the lagoon.
“You look like shit,” he said mildly.
I grabbed the other mug and ignored him. My body ached in a way that had nothing to do with fighting and everything to do with the female currently sleeping upstairs inmybed.
Emberline Dominico.
My wife.
The female who was my undoing and my salvation and probably would be the death of me.
I leaned against the counter, fingers tapping on the scarred wood. The house felt different this morning—less hollow, as if her very presence had filled the cracks in the foundation, and the cracks in me, the way her scent clung to my skin like a balm.
The way her taste still coated my mouth.
Warm, slightly feral, edged with steel.
Nico watched me over the rim of his mug, those paleeyes sharp. “So,” he drawled. “After the disaster at Rocco’s, I take it you two lovebirds made up?”
I shot him a look. “I’m not discussing my wife with you.”
“That well, huh?” He snorted, but there was a bitterness in those words, a tightness around his mouth. “Have you told her everything?Anything?”
The question hung between us as I shook my head. “No.”
Regret was something I’d learned to live with long ago. From the beginning, I’d told myself I was protecting Ember, keeping her away from the ugliness of my past. From the dangerous ghosts that might creep out of the darkness and get to me by hurting her.
But lying to her any longer would break me.
Or worse—would break this fragile trust between us.
“You planning on it?” There was an edge in Nico’s voice, an accusation that sent my hackles rising. “Before she figures out you’ve dragged her into the middle of a war?”
“I didn’tdragher anywhere,” I snapped, sharper than I meant to. “Giovanni did that when he traded her to Marcello as part of his little game.”
Nico arched a brow. “Why are you complaining? You came out the winner in that trade, fratello.”
