Page 9 of Devoted

Oh, I had lots of words for this manipulative bitch, but I pinched my lips together instead and nodded.

She looked too shiny, her metallic gold dress unwrinkled, not a hair out of place, her makeup as perfect as it had been this morning. On the other hand, I was in a days-old shirt, and my hair was a bird’s nest of epic proportions. The differences between us couldn’t have been starker, and like always, I shrank beneath her golden perfection like a flower melting in the sun.

“I wanted to say thank you,” she said simply.

“It’s a bit soon for gratitude, given we haven’t done anything yet.” I wondered what she was up to. What angle she was working.

“No. Not yet, but I have confidence you will.” She dipped her head. “And for that, I am grateful. So even if tonight’s efforts don’t work… I wanted to say thank you. While I had the chance.”

“We’ll get Rocco out,” I said stiffly, glancing over her shoulder toward the bedroom.

I needed to throw water on my face. Needed to convince myself that walking into a building full of monsters to save a vampire I despised was the right decision when it felt like a mistake.

Despising her for backing us into a corner and not giving us a choice.

Seriously, she was the worst ex-girlfriend ever.

“I meant what I said before. That night at the ball, I never intended to…” Valeria glanced away, her expression shifting to regret. “Rocco was desperate to bring Dante back into the fold. I went along with his scheme because I wanted to please my father, and…” She squared her shoulders. “I didn’t think your marriage was real. I didn’t think my actions mattered. But I hurt you, and for that, I am sorry.”

I studied her face, using every bit of my training. Nothing in her expression indicated she was lying. Which meant she was either telling the truth, or she was the world’s best actress. Since she was Rocco’s daughter, I settled on the latter.

“Yeah, well, everything about our marriage is real,” I drawled, well aware I was baiting her and not giving a shit. “I am curious about something though.” I tipped my head, cursing myself for having to ask. “Were you two really about to be mated?”

“Mated?” Her eyes widened, then she sighed dramatically. “Gods, no. Dante and I were… we were complicated. An alliance that made sense politically. For my father, Dante was always a means to an end. For me, he was… better than I deserved, I suppose. Too noble and too honorable to ever believe we’d be together for long.” She picked at her dress, a rare sign of nerves. “Dante treated me well. He was never unkind, even when he knew I was only trying to make my father happy. And he never made me feel less for it.”

A burst of warmth filled my chest because I could see my husband doing exactly that.

And… okay, fine.

All of us had shit people in our lives.

Manipulative, ruthless, cruel.

For just a moment, I tried to imagine what it must have been like under Rocco’s thumb, struck again by that sharp stab of pity, especially after meeting her asshole brother, who’d tried to torture me to death. No, the Dementes didn’t have a single redeeming quality.

“So, that’s what you meant when you said you were just trying to survive.”

“Surviving is all I’ve ever done,” she said quietly. “For once, I’d like to see what it’s like to live. When you find my father, tell him I said stella marina. Starfish. It’s our secret codeword for safe. That way he’ll know I sent you.” She stepped back with a dip of her head, the conversation complete.

I continued toward the bedroom, and didn’t look back because I knew what I’d see.

Her face full of hope that her father was still alive. The hope she could make some fresh attempt at a relationship or a reckoning or whatever the fuck it was we hoped for when we got a second chance.

And now that Enzo was gone, and that chance no longer existed for me, I couldn’t say I didn’t envy her, just a little.

4

EMBERLINE

We dematerialized from the island to a narrow calle off the Castello, a slip of stained stone beside a black ribbon of water, still enough to reflect the lamplight. The close, high-walled alley trapped the damp and the smell of old fish. Beyond the opening, a vaporetto chugged heavily past with a steady, mechanical hum through the wider waterway.

Dematerialization was a strange thing. The way Venice reformed around me, how the brine of the ocean changed to the bog of the canals, the world coming apart, then reassembling itself into something that felt like home. The way the cold magic still clung to my skin, a temporary shield against the smothering heat of an Italian summer.

I picked at my silk blouse, draped around me like a tent, and hefted the oversized bag on my shoulder. Pushing my ridiculous, ginormous sunglasses up my nose, I pondered the dubious life choices that had brought me here.

Dressed as a rich, American tourist.

Armed to the teeth beneath my silk and cashmere.