The sight of the blood on Gianni's hand and the gleaming knife approaching my own made me want to faint.
This is completely unnecessary!!
Gianni’s voice went steady. “Do not worry, my love. Whatever cut is there, no matter how deep. . .I will heal it.”
Taking one last shuddering breath, I extended my trembling hand to the priest and braced myself for the pain.
Fast, that icy blade came into contact with my palm. Pain seared through me, and I cried out involuntarily.
A thin line of red appeared on my palm and blood started to pool, hot and wet against my skin.
What the fuck?! I already said I do. Did we really need to cut each other?
My bottom lip quivered.
That bastard priest grinned. “Bring your hands together.”
Someone take me to the hospital.
I whimpered again but complied, bringing my hand into contact with Gianni’s. His wounded palm met mine and I vowed not to whimper again.
Instead, I gritted my teeth as our blood mingled together. That crimson liquid seeped into each other’s cuts and palms, dripping down our arms, staining my gown.
And I watched in a daze.
The pain was sharp but brief, eclipsed by the weight of what this act symbolized.
Gianni turned to me and wrapped his other hand around our hands, completing the bond.
O-kay. Almost over.
When Gianni pulled his hands away, he immediately slipped a ring on my finger as if he’d been waiting for so many years to do this.
Oh shit.
I looked down at it.
The ring was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. A gleaming row of diamonds formed the band. Interspersed between them were deep, blood-red rubies—fiery and dark. The contrast between the cool clarity of the diamonds and the burning intensity of the rubies made the ring a perfect symbol of this new bond with Gianni—one built on love and blood.
I looked up at Gianni, and he seared me with his gaze.
The priest spoke, “Then by the power vested in me, and by the blood that has bound you, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
“Now we aretrulybound by blood.” Gianni lowered his head to kiss me, and I braced myself for the harshness of his touch.
Surely the devil’s lips would be cold and venomous.
Surely his mouth would be just as jagged as the saw he’d held in his hands not long ago.
But instead, I was met with a kiss so sensual, so unexpectedly tender, that it took my breath away.
Took it all away.
His lips moved against mine with a slow, deliberate intensity, igniting things that have never been ignited within my core before.
Sparks of heated, penetrating emotions.
Desire.
