“I, Luca DiRavello,” he recited, voice steady, “head of the DiRavello family, swear my life and line to Don Marcello Dominico. I swear loyalty in word and deed. I swear my blood, my fortune, and my descendants to the service of the D’Immortali Dynasty. Should I break this oath, let my line be hunted, my name erased, my legacy burned to ash.”
His words resonated as the Basin eagerly drank his blood.
My father inclined his head.
“Your oath is accepted.” Then he murmured, something like regret coloring his words. “Now the sister.”
A faint ripple of power rolled through the room,brushing over my skin like static, like a storm was rolling in, but it was only Emberline DiRavello, stepping daintily up the steps, as fragile as a fawn, dress lifted high enough I saw a flash of one perfect, delicate ankle, wrapped in thin, black leather straps.
A fresh shiver of lust went through me, completely out of character for the situation, but by the time she stopped in front of us, I’d mastered myself again.
“Emberline DiRavello, have you come to swear your fealty to the Blood Compact?” My father asked quietly, then added, so only the three of us could hear. “And allow me to remind you, if you refuse, your entire bloodline is forfeit, including your brother.”
I remained ramrod straight, didn’t dare look at my sire with the shock I was feeling. The Don of a Dynasty didn’tbargainwith the lesser children of the weakest house, not in public, not at the ceremony.
Nor did he offer up his own blade, hilt-first.
I rocked forward on the balls of my feet, heart racing.
The girl dragged the knife out of his hand and slashed it across her palm with no hesitation, a deeper cut than any I’d seen, a perfectly straight gash right along her heart line, blood welling up so fast, I…
The smell hit me all at once, rich and luscious, and my fangs punched out, hunger surging, possessing me like a clawed fist of greed. I blew out an unsteady breath, every nerve ending raw.
Emberline DiRavello’s cold, appraising gaze raked over me like the edge of a blade, her smile feline. When she tipped her hand, so much blood poured into the Basin, it splattered over the sides, hissing as the runes flared to life, glowing brighter than I’d ever seen them.
Like they couldn’t get enough of her.
My mouth watered, like I didn’t have fifty years of self-control. But gods, the urge to take her hand and lap up every drop of that rich, red blood sent my entire body shuddering.
“I, Emberline DiRavello,” she recited, that husky contralto ripping through my bones, “swear my life and line to Don Marcello Dominico.” She bit off his name with a snap of her teeth. “I swear loyalty in word and deed. I swear my blood, my fortune, and myself to the service of the D’Immortali Dynasty. Should I break this oath, let my line be hunted, my name erased, my legacy burned to ash.”
Marcello’s jaw ticked, curiosity sparking in his eyes. This close, I sensed the deep well of power he carried, coiled tight in his chest. Magic he could use to end this girl, magic she would not be able to defend against, and for one impossible moment, I held my breath and prayed he let her live.
Gods, she was beautiful, up close, beneath the candlelight.
A fucking masterpiece of perfect pale skin and dark eyes, lips as red as cherries.
Then I frowned.
Emberline still hadn’t moved. She was still planted in front of us, nose flaring as she stared at my father, and Marcello—the male who had never bowed to anyone—dipped his head, like he was awaiting judgment. Sensing the wrongness of this moment, Severin was rising from his chair, and Nico was shoving his way toward us through the crowd.
Her fingers around the golden hilt tightened, knuckles whitening.
“Don Marcello Dominico,” her voice rang loud and sure, and my father flinched. “As a bonded member of this Dynasty and as Enzo DiRavello’s eldest living child, I invoke the Right of Arbitration for the murder of my father.”
She eyed my father like a wolf eyed its prey, hand banded around the hilt of his favorite ceremonial knife, the edge stained red with her blood.
My instincts rose as her pupils dilated, her grip tightened down on the hilt, something like resignation glimmering in my father’s eyes. Every muscle in my thighs tensed as I dropped into a half-crouch, the air stalling in my lungs.
Below, the bloodthirsty throng pressed forward, shoving past the velvet ropes, the family heads lunging out of their gilded seats and onto their feet. One moment, Severin was reaching toward Emberline, Nico a dark blur cutting through the crowd, the DiSangue coven casting a web of protective red magic around themselves. The next, my father’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade, and the world stopped moving.
“And who, child, do you accuse of this heinous crime?”
“You, Don.” Pointing the knife straight at him, splattering the front of his shirt with droplets of her own blood, she lifted her head higher, while I wondered if she’d completely lost her fucking mind.
“I accuseyouof murdering Enzo DiRavello in cold blood.”
11
