GABRIEL
Ididn’t remember moving.
One second, Emberline DiRavello was on the dais, bloody knife clenched, pointed at my father’s throat, his name on her lips like a curse. The next, my fingers were clamped around her wrist, and we were gone.
Stone dissolved around us, the roar of the crowd snuffed out like a candle flame.
We rematerialized in one of the meeting rooms—not the one I used for interrogations, though maybe I’d been too quick to dismiss that option—a place used for private contract negotiations between Dynasty members.
With a wave of my hand, the candles ignited on the chandelier overhead, illuminating a stack of fresh linens on the side table, along with a pitcher of water and crystal glasses.
The room, like most here, was soundproofed. Nothing would escape these walls.
I stripped my father’s knife from her hand, and Emberline stumbled slightly, bare shoulders rising with a sharp breath as she took in our surroundings. One round, elegant table. A handful of chairs. Candles throwing golden light over old Venetian plaster and the Dominico crest painted onto the far wall.
For one wild second, I’d thought the dainty little aristocratwas going to stab my father in the throat in front of the entire Dynasty. But someone would have to be insane—suicidal—to even consider such an act and condemn their entire bloodline to death.
And the DiRavellos were renowned for restraint.
She was a pamperedaristocrat, for fuck’s sake.
The most dangerous thing she’d ever handled was a salad fork at dinner.
Case in point, blood still poured from her too-deep wound as she glared up at me, dark eyes brimming with murderous intent.
Not with fear.
No, there wasn’t an ounce of fear in her gaze, her entire body trembling with rage.
“Youfucker.You don’t have to manhandle me.” She tried peeling me off her, but my grip was like iron.
Her dark gaze turned calculating, as if my head was on the chopping block, not hers.
“What the fuck was that all about?” she demanded, two spots of color in her cheeks. “Do you always tackle females in the middle of the ceremony while they’re swearing their lives away?” That same husky contralto that had sent lust rippling down my spine at the ceremony sent a fresh wave through me now, and my grip on her wrist tightened.
Up close—alone—her voice was addictive, threads of smoke and silk and steel braided together into something powerful. Something dangerous.
Something that could easily make a lesser male weaken.
“You just accused the Don of murder in front of five hundred witnesses,” I countered, gritting my teeth at her absolute obstinance. “You’re fortunate Ionlymanhandled you. If Severin had reached you first…”
I let my words trail off, releasing her dainty wrist, more aware than I wanted to be of the pulse racing beneath my fingers. Of the slick heat of her blood coating my palm.
The smell hit again, overwhelming and carnal in its richness, far too tempting in this enclosed space. Old instincts stirred under my skin, the predator in me lifting its head. I shut that part of myself down ruthlessly, only for another—and even more ill-advised—urge to rise.
She cut herself deeply. She wasn’t healing.
“Severin didn’t reach me first, you did,” she growled, the tips of her fangs showing. “I wasn’t going to hurt your father, for fuck’s sake. What do you think I am, an idiot?”
When I didn’t answer, she lifted her chin a fraction. “I smell the stench of fear in this room. Is this where you make me recant my sins, Gabriel Dominico?”
My nostrils flared. My name in her mouth…no one spoke my name like that.
Not my family.
Not our allies.
No, the others weighed my name with the proper amount of respect and fear I was due. She utteredGabriellike a challenge. As she’d moan out my name if my cock was buried deep inside her and her hands were tied up over her head as shewrithed for me.
