I shook my head, trying to clear the image.What in the fuck was my problem?
“This is where you wait for judgment,” I snapped, suddenly pissed at myself for thinking of her in any way besides a threat. Or, at the very least, a sharp, stubborn thorn in my side. “My father will be here shortly. Nico as well. Now sit.”
“I’m not a godsdamned dog,stronzo.” Her eyes flicked tothe chair, the lack of windows, the one door, then back to me. “Do you speak to all females that way or only those who insult the vaunted Dominico honor? I know how touchy you are about your precious family motto.”
The jab slid under my skin before I could stop it, a sharpness twisting around my heart because yes, Iwaspissed she’d sullied our honor in public, at an important ceremony, no less. I was pissed my sire had changed the ceremony without consulting me, and I was pissed because she made me feel off kilter in ways I shouldn’t.
“I speak that way toragazzine insolentiwho disrupt sacred ceremonies to try to discredit dynasties in public.” I pointed to the chair, hoping she didn’t notice my finger shaking.
“And also, you’re bleeding onto my floor.”
The scent hit again—rich and sweet, threaded with something thrillingly potent that prickled along my tongue. I’d been around blood my entire existence. Logically, there should be nothing unique about DiRavello blood.
But Emberline’s…
My fangs ached so badly, it took all my control not to dive for her, to grasp her wrist and lick every drop of blood from her palm. I’d never felt this out of control, never been this tempted by anyone before.
And I had no idea why.
Which only pissed me off even more.
“Your sire’s blade was sharper than expected,” she admitted, eyes flashing, and I wondered what else she would have done with that knife if given the chance.
Tried to stab Marcello and died for her efforts, most likely.
I crossed to the sideboard, picked up the pile of linen cloths and the pitcher of water while she tracked my everymove, chin tilted, pupils blown wide from either adrenaline or fear—or both.
“You’re bleeding over everything.” I set everything down, then ripped one of the cloths into strips. “The runes have taken what they needed, your part of the ceremony is over. There’s no need to feed the stones anymore. And frankly, you’re ruining the rug. Now, let me see that hand.”
Her gaze dropped to my hand, and for a moment, I thought she’d refuse out of sheer spite. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible sigh, she extended her bare arm, a long reach of pale, creamy skin, covered with bloodstains that seemed to glow with power.
Gods, I was so hungry.
Starving, in fact. I kicked myself for not taking care of my needs before being locked in a room with someone so… delicious. Every cell of my being wanted to pin her down to the table and drink my fill, but I wrapped the strip of cloth tight around her palm, the white turning scarlet in seconds as I tied it off.
“That will keep pressure on long enough to slow the bleeding.” Up close, I frowned when I saw the precision of the cut—no hesitation, no jagged edges, straight and deep along the heart line.
An assassin’s cut.
Not an aristocrat’s.
“How long had you been planning that little speech?” I asked, wetting another cloth in the pitcher. Blood still slicked her arm, all the way to the elbow. She didn’t so much as flinch.
The girl was unreadable, unflappable, and utterly maddening.
“Long enough.” Her lips curved, and then, “This is unnecessary,” she said quietly as I took her hand. “Keepingme alive,” she clarified, “when you’re just going to kill me later.”
“The Basin accepted your pledge of fealty. You’re sworn to the Compact now,” I kept my tone even. “Your blood is Dynasty property, and by law, I’m obligated to keep our property inside your veins until such time as I deem it…unnecessary.”
“Is that how you think of me?” Her lashes lifted, gaze meeting mine—dark, fathomless. Not black, more like the color of espresso. “As property? Or as…unnecessary?”
Was she deliberately baiting me?
Locked in a room with her head on the guillotine, and she was…fucking with me?
“We are the D’Immortali,” I shrugged. “We take what we want, we use members as they were meant to be used. That is the way of things.”
“Good to know.” She sucked in a quick breath, sharp and involuntary, when I swiped the wet cloth down her arm, the only proof she felt anything at all. Emberline didn’t speak as I cleaned every trace of blood from her soft, creamy skin, then moved to her fingers, unwrapping the strip of cloth from earlier.
