Forbidden Blood: A House of Comarré Novella by Kristen Painter Page B

saying the fight ahead will be easy, but with this practice and your serum, I feel very confident.” Her smile deepened and reached out to him, taking his hand. In these past weeks, he’d fed from her numerous times and the bond between them was now almost a tangible thing. But more than that, the unthinkable had happened. She’d come to genuinely care for him. To miss him during the daylight hours when he slept and her mind wandered to unhappy outcomes. “I don’t like it when you worry.”
    His mouth bent in a half smile. “How can I not? The prospect of an eternity without you, bella mia , is not something I care to contemplate. Not after this wonderful time we have shared. I want more of that. Much more.”
    “So do I.” And that was the truth, so help her. She let him pull her in close, protesting only slightly. “I need a shower.”
    He ignored her words to kiss her wrist, his fangs grazing her skin, his eyes shutting briefly. “Our time comes to a close.” Still clasping her hand, he pressed her palm to where his heart had once beaten. “You’re sure you feel confident?”
    “Very.” Or at least as much as she could feel when her next meeting with Arnaud could be her last. In more ways than one. “I could fight him tomorrow.”
    “Three days from now is time enough.” Dominic nodded. “But I am glad you feel this way. And…I would like to propose we take a break from the training.”
    “And do what?”
    His eyes crackled silver. “Get to know one another more than we already have. We are anticipating a very long future in each other’s company.” The silver died a bit. “Or perhaps not.” He squeezed her hand. “Either way, I know better ways to spend these nights before we return to Corvinestri.”
    She tipped her head back. A shiver of anticipation ran through her already-flush body. She was no innocent virgin. If she was going to die at Arnaud’s hands, she would prefer one memory that was purely her own, untouched by comarré law. If that’s what Dominic was suggesting, she would gladly agree. “Such as?”
    “Wine and song, revelry, and the chance to be whoever we desire.” He stroked a fingertip over the signum on her cheek and whispered, “ Carnevale di Venezi ,” like he tasted sunlight on his tongue. “We shall go and lose ourselves in the crowd and forget, at least for these few last days, what awaits.”
    He stepped away and held out his hand to her. “What say you, cara mia ? Shall we dance in the streets of Venice and take our pleasure where we find it?”
    The idea of walking among mortals, hidden by masks that would allow them to go unnoticed and unfeared caused her head to spin. Embolden by the ephemeral ticking of fate’s clock, she reached for his hand. “I say we go. I say we live like we have no tomorrow.”
    Because she knew very well they might not.
     
    * * *
    Waves of masked revelers flowed through Venice, turning the streets into a sea of iridescent silk and shimmering satin. “It’s unbelievable,” Marissa whispered as their gondola passed beneath a bridge and turned toward the Grand Canal. Lights from other gondolas dotted the waterway, bobbing up and down on the gentle swells. “I can see why you keep a home here. It’s perfect.”
    Beside her, Dominic nodded, but his gaze picked through the crowd peering over the bridge. “It’s only perfect because we are here together.”
    She smiled and leaned into him a little more. Thanks to his wide web of influence, they were also perfectly outfitted. A favor owed turned into matching costumes and masks, both elaborate designs in white and gold. They looked like a grand lord and lady from centuries past. Her hair was tucked into a tall white wig, while long, white curls covered Dominic’s dark locks. Pearls and crystals decorated the gold masks that hid everything but their mouths.
    Dominic had insisted on that, refusing, he said, to be kept from kissing her. His bold words had made her blush; she was