The one her father once occupied.
Principessa del ghiaccio, they called her, the Ice Princess, and today, she looked the part, not a hint of emotion on her flawless face, her skin as smooth as snow. Part of me wondered if she felt anything at all, or if she was so thoroughly frozen, feelings were as foreign to her as mercy was to me.
Part of me admired that deadly calm, the other part… I tightened my grip on the banister. Part of me wanted to see fire flash in those dark eyes, watch her mouth fall open as she spewed insults at me. Just the memory had my cock hardening, remembering all that simmering anger trapped in that tiny, curvy body.
Fuck, I need to get my shit together.
She’s nothing but an annoyance. An annoyance I definitely do not need right now.
The brother—Luca—was dressed in a black suit that highlighted his leanness and his youth, and had all the females crowding closer, greedy eyes glittering, like vultures around a fresh kill.
Behind them, in the plain brown robe of a Franciscan friar, lurked Giovanni.
His expression was beatific, barely concealing a wide-eyed awe for the proceedings. I’d spent the past three days investigating the male and found nothing. Not a surprise.The slipperiest serpents never left a trail. But he was filthy dirty; I knew it to my bones.
Once this ceremony was over, I’d have Nico rip Giovanni’s life apart until he found that dirt, then I’d bury him in it. Deep.As if he knew where my thoughts had gone, the old vampire lifted his head and flashed me a cold, dead smile, showing his fangs.
I gave him nothing back.
Instead, my gaze returned to the dais, the throne of the Dominico family.
My sire’s throne.
Carved from a single block of black-veined marble, its arms sculpted into swords and its back crowned with a stylized wolf’s head. The Dominico crest was emblazoned in gold at the apex. Four steps led up to it, each one edged in red-veined stone, polished smooth by centuries of feet.
To the right of the throne sat the Blood Basin.
The Basin accepted the blood of every Dynasty member, along with their sworn statement of fealty. If the magic accepted your words as truth, you walked away unscathed, under our protection for the next decade.
If you were lying, if your heart was not fully pledged to the Dynasty and its laws… things went badly.
The Basin was older than any of us. Older than Venice. No one knew where the relic came from, only that its magic lay at the heart of this ceremony. An oblong bowl of dark stone, its rim was carved with pagan runes that predated Latin. Inside, the dried residue of countless oaths sworn before today stained the bottom black.
It would not remain dry for long.
Behind the throne, two massive windows overlooked the Grand Canal. Tonight, heavy velvet drapes framed them, drawn back just enough to showcase the night—water,moonlight, the ghostly whisper of gondolas sliding by. Between the palace and the rest of Venice, our warded walls rose like a second skin, hiding us from mortal eyes.
I checked my watch.
Five minutes.
“Status?” I asked quietly.
“West wing sealed,” another voice reported. “Harbor approach clear.”
“Perimeter locked,” Severin checked in from his position below, his words pitched low enough that only those of us on comms would hear. “No disturbances. Wards stronger than my patience is right now. Can we get this the fuck over with? I could use a godsdamned drink.”
I smiled, then movement near the main doors drew my eye. The crowd stirred, the subtle sound of bodies turning and hushed whispers, gazes shifting. They sensed his power approaching before the herald’s staff struck the floor.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
“Signore e Signori,” the herald called, “Don of the D’Immortali Dynasty. High Lord of the Dominico Family. Custodian of the Blood Compact. Don Marcello Dominico.”
I held my breath as the doors swung open, remembering how weak he’d been just days ago. Not tonight.
Tonight, my father owned the room.
He owned us all, but more than that, Marcello Dominico carried the centuries on his shoulders like they weighed nothing.
