Against the flickering candles of the pristine bridal bower, my new husband looked even more feral than during the ceremony. His long, dark hair had been unevenly hacked off with a knife, curling damply at his neck, tangled, as if he hadn’t bothered to drag a comb through it for a decade.
Scars marked every inch of exposed, corded flesh, faintly silvered scars gleaming on his cheeks, as though some beast had tried to rip his face off and almost succeeded. His wet coat hung open, black shirt half unbuttoned, revealing a triangle of wet, glistening skin marked with primitive tattoos.
A monster of a male, accustomed to killing, with a questionable moral code that probably made me look like a newly professed nun.
Just perfect.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” I braced my feet apart and regulated my breathing. I had five weapons in the bathroom, and any one of them could take this fucker down. I’d dematerialize back to our palazzo in the city, then…
Then what? Join a fucking convent?
I had no backup plan, no strategy except infiltrating the Dominico family and bringing them down. After dedicating my entire life to carefully anticipating any and allcontingencies, I realized this stupid marriage was myonlyplay until I came up with something better.
“Please step aside,” I sounded calmer this time, “I need to use the bathroom.”
Dante’s gaze slid over me, slow and assessing.
“Yes, I know, the dress is ridiculous. This wasn’t my choice.” The bodice was boned so tightly I could barely breathe, not with the way his blue eyes lingered on the angry red marks where the pearls bit into my skin.
A nerve in his jaw ticked.
I eyed that red mark on his cheek.
“Truly, you must think I’m an idiot,tesoro,” he purred, prowling forward, and I squashed the urge to back away, or even worse, to run. “If I know you at all, you have about a hundred weapons stashed away somewhere close and cannot wait to stab me with every last one of them until I look like a pincushion.”
“You sound pretty worried for someone who looks like he just crawled out of a fighting pit. What damage could little old me possibly do to a great big brute like you?”
He tilted his head. “Oh, it’s hard to say.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out one ofmy fucking knives—the ones hidden so carefully in the bathroom—andtossed the blade on the bed. “But I would imagine, given the callouses on your hands and the muscle tone in your arms, you are capable of quite a lot.”
I stood there, seething, as the rest of my knives joined the first, each of them landing with a quietwhoomphamong the rose petals and white satin, until even my thin, metal pick was staring me in the face, right along with his smug, victorious smile.
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I believe in being prepared.”
“For your wedding?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“For life. In case you haven’t noticed, the world is a scary place. I expect you wouldn’t know that, because you’re astronzowho makes it even scarier.”
“What’s your plan?” he asked, and the question actually sounded sincere.
“Destroy your family, bring the Dynasty to its knees, and avenge my father. Not necessarily in that order.”
“I mean, how do you plan to go to the bathroom in thatthing?” He waved a scarred hand up and down the nightmarish dress. “I’m not trying to be a smartass. I’m actually confused as to how all of that even works.”
Nowthatwas a valid question. I reached behind me, fingers clawing for the knot at the top of the stays. Which, of course, I couldn’t fucking reach, because this day wasn’t enough of a disaster already.
“Turn around,” his voice was thick.
I bristled. “Don’t give me orders. I’m not some?—”
“Turnaround, Emberline.” His tone dropped, not louder, just heavier. A voice loaded with that deep, commanding note I’d heard in the chapel when he’d woven his magic through the priest’s words.
Every fiber of my being yearned to obey his order, and I despised him for it.
But the bodice was laced too tightly; I couldn’t reach the knots myself without becoming a contortionist or possibly dislocating a shoulder. I turned and presented my stiff back, every hair on the nape of my neck prickling at having him behind me.
His fingers brushed the bare skin between my shoulder blades as he found the first knot. Calloused. Careful.Competent.
“You won’t believe this, but I’m not the villain here,” hemurmured as he worked, undoing the laces with efficient precision, goosebumps rising where his breath skated over my skin. “I came to right an old wrong and possibly save you from making a fatal mistake.”
