Page 34 of Tragic Empire
“This knife has been held by generations of men. It has bathed in the blood of a select few, but all of whom share the same blood. The cutting edge has only ever broken Moretti skin, and it will be melted down into scrap before that changes. Do you recognize its purpose?”
“I do.”
“Does your bride?”
“She does.”
The handle is pressed into my open palm, and Father Benedict silently passes Apollo a bowl of blessed water.
Bringing my eyes back to Ana, I’m relieved to see she doesn’t appear scared. There is the faintest hint of shining in them, but she won’t cry.
“Do you intend to be mine?”
My question prompts a rehearsed smile to paint her lips.
“Only yours,” she agrees, the quiet words hitting me straight in the chest. “Will you belong to me?”
“And only you,” I pledge.
With our preliminary promises finished, the most important part of the ceremony must begin. The sacrifices.
I go first, softly scoring my finger with the tip of the silver blade. Handing the knife off to Ana, I dip my thumb into the bowl of holy water, purifying my blood before reaching toward her. Carefully tracing a downward cross into her pale skin, I watch, mesmerized as the bright red liquid stains between her breasts.
For the first time in years, my heart starts to pick up in an excited beat. Something like desire stirs in my stomach, and I blink, flicking my gaze to Ana’s face. Her honey brown eyes stare back at me and the feeling only grows. She’s beautiful, that much has always been obvious.
I’ve never been blind to how Ana looks. She has glowing ivory skin, silky hair, pink and puffy lips, and a million other features that can’t be ignored. And her body… I’ve seen more of it than I should admit. She’s swum in our pool with Jade a few times, and even seeing her in a bikini didn’t do this to me before.
In fact, no woman has garnered a reaction like this from me, not since Isobel. I haven’t had the urge to even search for the sensation, and now it’s hitting me all on its own. I’m marrying this woman, vowing my life to hers, and I can’t believe how relieved I am that Apollo isn’t standing in my place.
A surge of fierce possessiveness slams through me. It’smyblood on her skin, marking her right over her heart. It’s the ringIchose on her finger, and it’smyresponsibility to keep her safe and happy. From now, until my last breath.
Ana pricks her thumb next, and despite the wound being small, I have to force myself not to tend to it. Dipping her cut into the holy water, she breathes out heavily before reaching toward my throat. Her hand is steady as she traces the same downward facing cross right over my Adam’s Apple.
Before she can retract her hand, I catch her by her fingers. Ana lets out a tiny gasp, and I hold her eyes while taking my pocket square from my jacket. Without a word, I wrap her slowly bleeding thumb in the fabric, tying a knot over the cut.
Her throat bobs in a swallow, and I reluctantly let her go. I’d insist on having Doc check her out right this second if it wouldn’t make me look insane to both my bride and my entire family.
“Father?” I ask, flicking my eyes to the man.
Dante Moretti stands from his seat in the first row, already pulling the scrap of blue ribbon from his pocket. He’s held onto the very same silky strip for three weddings before, and never once has he needed to use it. Still, he doesn’t show a hint of objection or uncertainty.
He faces Apollo, his back to the crowd and looks between my bride and me with something akin to pride. I hadn’t worried that he would be upset with my decision to bond Ana in this way, but I hadn’t expected such obvious approval either.
“Blue is the color of loyalty and trust,” Dad says thickly. “This material represents an invisible tie that will connect you for all of time.”
Taking Ana’s wrist first, he ties a small loop around it, leaving plenty of slack behind. He ties the same knot around my wrist next. Within seconds, we’re fastened together, each of us having our own bracelet of ribbon with a cord tethering them.
Dad returns to his seat, letting our guests witness the joining.
“Your rings,” Apollo prompts, pulling them from his pocket.
An unembellished, thick silver band for me, and a slim diamond-speckled halo for my bride. He offers us each the correct ring to hold, and awaits our next move. Ana takes a collecting breath and peers up at me.
Offering her an encouraging nod, I watch her lips part, preparing to say the vows I taught her only a short time ago.
“With my blood, I bind my life to your name,” she starts, her hands shaking but her voice steady. “I shed who I once was, sacrificing my past for our future. With this ribbon, we are tied. Even as it is cut, our bond remains sealed. Now, and in every moment on, I am yours.”
With her final word, she glides my wedding band into place.
