Page 102 of Dance of Deception

But eventually everyone else disperses, their voices fading as they slip out of the library one by one. The air still hums with the weight of what just happened, of the vow he made, of the shift in power.

The heavy doors shut with a dull finality, locking me in place.

I’m finally alone with him.

Carmine exhales, slow and deep, rolling his shoulders, like he’s shaking off the weight of his father’s reign. The blood that drips from the carved emblem of the Barone crest is still bright and wet, but he stands there like the pain is nothing.

Then he looks at me.

And there's a dark shift in the air.

My throat tightens. I force myself to keep breathing, to keep my pulse steady even as it betrays me, hammering against my ribs.

“Do… Do you need a doctor?” I ask breathlessly. The words feel thin and useless.

He just shakes his head.

“Well?” His voice is smooth, deep, filling the silence between us.

I blink. “Well…what?”

“It’s time.”

My stomach tightens. “Time?”

He steps forward into my space, moving with a measured ease that makes my breath hitch. The flickering candlelight carves shadows along the sharp angles of his face, making him look even more intense.

“You do understand, Lyra…” His voice drops to a whisper as he lowers his face, his breath warm on my neck. “That as of today you’remine.”

A shiver ripples through my core, pebbling my skin. Carmine chuckles, the sound sliding over my senses like silk and steel.

“I've been patient.”

His fingers drag over his fresh wound slowly before he lifts his bloodied hand and wraps it gently around my throat. The heat of his touch sears into my skin, branding. Possessing.

“But I’m done waiting.”

My breath stutters and I press my hands against his chest without thinking, feeling the slow, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips.

His grip stays light, more of a reminder than a threat. “Say you understand.”

His hand tightens around my throat. I don’t know if it's the heat of the room, the sight of the blood still wet on his chest, or just the emotional strain of the day, but when he does, the sound that drags from my chest can only be described one way:

Needy.

And I know he damn well heard it, too, because satisfaction flickers in his eyes.

Possession.

“Let’s try that again,” he growls. “Do you understand?”

This time I nod as my throat bobs against his hand.

“I understand,” I whisper.

Carmine smiles like a shark.

“Good. Because now,wife,” he murmurs, letting his hand slip wetly from my neck, his blood marking my skin, “it’s time for you torun.”

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