All the blood he’d spilled.
The lives he’d taken.
“There are exceptions, of course, to your no-touching rule. Our marriage must look real. Which means in public,” he rasped, “I’ll call you that and worse. I’ll kiss you like you belong to me. I’ll put my hand on your back, and everyone will see a male who would burn the world to ash for his beloved bride. That’s how this game works, Ember. There is no sense in playing if you don’t mean to win.”
He dragged his nose up the side of my throat, skin on skin, and I shivered, all the way down to my toes. No male had ever been this close, no male had ever taken such liberties, and gods, my entire body softened like butter.
“I know this about you, too, Emberline.” Every rough, whispered word tickled my ear, his bristled jaw scraping the side of my face. “I know youareplaying to win. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if, when this is all over, you were the last one standing.”
My pulse skittered, yet I didn’t pull away.Why the fuck wasn’t I stepping away from this rain-drenched monster who’d ruined my life?
“You told me what it will be like in public, but…” I asked, hating how rough my voice sounded, the way my body was on fire. “What about in private?” My weapons wereright there, only a few feet away, almost within reach.
“In private,”—he dipped his head, shoulders curving in around me like a cage—“I’ll call you whatever you tell me to,tesoro. I will obey your every command. But in public… you aremine.”
Heat licked my cheeks.
“Fine,” I finally conceded that step to him, putting some much-needed breathing room between us. “That still leaves one problem.”
He tilted his head. “Only one? My wife,” he purred, “the optimist.”
I pointed at the bed. “Your family,” I muttered, “expects evidence we consummated this…thingbetween us.” The words tasted foul. “Blood on the sheets. Something for the gossips out there to talk about for the next month or so.”
“Blood?” Confusion flashed across his face. “Are you…” He looked between my red face and the rose petals on the sheets, awareness slowly dawning. “The vultures seriously expect us to…” He shook his head. “Fucking barbaric. And they call me a monster.”
“Regardless, this must be done, or everything that comes after will be suspect.” As bitter as that truth was, the conclusion was logical. Whatever really happened between us, if we gave these craven people what they wanted, our next steps would be easier.
For a moment, we both stared at the bed together, at thepristine white linens, the artfully scattered petals. The expectation that hung over this room like a shroud.
“We’re not doingthat,” I decided firmly. “I don’t care what they expect.”
Not that I knew whatthatentailed.
I’d never had a mother to usher me through womanhood, never had friends to gossip about boys. I’d only had Luca, who thankfully kept his many conquests to himself, while I… well, I hadn’t gotten the nameprincipessa del ghiacciofor nothing.
“We’re not,” he agreed calmly. “I have no interest in forcing you. When you come to my bed,tesoro, it will be because you’re begging for my cock, not because my father needs a show.”
My body reacted to his coarse language like I was a high-pitched tuning fork, heat spreading like fire through my bones, that forbidden tingle between my legs turning into a roar. Dante’s nostrils flared, his smile deepened into a wolf’s ravening grin.
“They expect to see blood? We’ll give them blood.”
Then he was moving...
Awayfrom me, thank all the gods.
Dante crossed to the bed, perused my knives, then chose one—my very favorite, the one Enzo had gifted me for my sixteenth birthday—testing the keen edge against his finger, blood welling immediately before he walked back to me.
“They’ll know if it’s my blood, Emberline,” he explained, with a hint of regret. “I would bleed for you, if I could, but they’ll be able to smell the difference.” He held out his hand. “I will make sure it hurts less than when you cut yourself at the Compact.”
My stomach turned, but I extended my hand, palm up. “You saw that?” I asked, as his fingers closed around my wrist, steady and firm.
He met my eyes once—question, warning, apology—before drawing the blade smoothly across my skin.
Pain flared, sharp and hot.
I hissed, teeth gritted, watching crimson well up from the thin cut, cupping my hand to allow it to pool inside my palm.
Bleeding for the cause seemed to be a thing these days.
