“Inspect them for proof,” Zia Elisabetta wrinkled her nose at my obvious confusion. “Of your purity.”
Ice slid down my spine. I wasexpectedto be a virgin.
“You mean,” I said carefully, “you’ll look for blood. On the sheets.”
“It is tradition,” Zia looked down her nose at me. “The families will want to be sure the line is strong. That there is no… prior maleclaim. Are you worried,puttana, that you will not bleed?” Her smile turned predatory, fangs sliding down, menace gleaming in her dark gaze.
“Are youunfitto marry our finest male? I told my brother this foolish partnership was a mistake, and your uncle is a snake. It would make sense he’d pawn his little whore off on us to…”
“I will bleed.” I interrupted, meeting her eyes coldly as I straightened, lifting my chin to sneer at her. “And once Imarry Gabriel, once he becomes Don, once Iprove myself a good wife, I will remember your words, Zia Elisabetta. Every one of them. So, I would caution you to stop. Before you say something that might get you killed.”
I might not know how to play female power games, but I understood vampire power more than most, and I’d been taught by Enzo DiRavello, the very best strategist there ever was.
Zia Elisabetta could fucking suck it.
I inspected my fingernails, like I wasn’t about to march down the aisle to my doom. “After all, we’re about to be family, and as family we should attempt to be friends… not enemies.”
The older female looked like she’d been slapped, then two spots of color stained her cheeks, her eyes turning harder than glittering diamonds.
I lifted my shoulders and put my back to the old vulture and her awful daughter.
“But truthfully? I couldn’t care less either way. Call me a whore again, and I will bury you both.”
24
EMBERLINE
Candles flickered as I waited alone in the back of the chapel, stomach in knots, white flowers spilling from every surface while soft music played somewhere in the background, a Vivaldi concerto, maybe. The sound almost drowned out the raging storm outside.
I’d dreamed of this day since I was little.
Of a fairytale wedding to a handsome prince, of flowers and promises and candlelight. And as much as my heart ached for this to be real, I reminded myself this was only the first chess move in a long, dangerous game.
A game I had better win.
The weight of a hundred eyes stayed on me as I walked down the aisle toward Gabriel.
Head held high. Shaking hands hidden beneath my bouquet. Mind made up.
My uncle and Luca sat by themselves, my only family present, my brother’s face as white as my dress, my uncle’s pleased smile giving me goosebumps as I passed them by.
I’m here, Em.My brother’s voice sounded muffled inside my head.Right here.My own thoughts were too chaotic to send anything back except a vague mental touch to let him know I’d heard.
The chapel felt small, intimate. The ridiculous skirtingkept getting tangled around my ankles, all frost-white silk and suffocating lace as I struggled to the front of the chapel, feeling like I was smothering.
Up at the altar, Gabriel was rock solid, carved from the same immovable stone as this ancient building. Broad shoulders thrown back, bright blue eyes reflecting every flicker of candlelight, cleft chin barely brushed with stubble. He was bigger in here, wider, taking up too much space. Or maybe that was this stupid corset, cutting off my airflow.
I glanced up, and his stare burned hotter, then his teeth sank into his bottom lip, giving me a glimpse of his fangs. White. Sharp.Perfect.
He looked at me like he wanted to devour me, worship me, and kiss me, all at the same time, so much feral intensity burning in his gaze, I had to look away.
Heat throbbed in my cheeks, exploding through my body a dangerous tangle of nerves and adrenaline, and I swayed beneath this dangerous, carnal sensation melting my body to honey.
We are enemies by blood, and this is only pretend, I repeated as I stopped beside him, wishing weweren’tenemies. Wishing right now I wasn’t alone and scared of what lay ahead.
Then Gabriel curled his big hand around mine, squeezed tight, and my nerves dissipated into a tolerable hum.
“Emberline DiRavello,” the DiSangue Order priest intoned, the crimson sigil at his throat gleaming like freshly spilled blood, his deep voice echoing off the stone. “Gabriel Dominico. You stand before us today to…”
