Chapter 30

CHAPTERTHIRTY

"Two weeks, Stella. I was gone for two bloody weeks!" Pietro exclaimed as Stella caught her father up on recent events.

"I know, I’m sorry. But look at it this way: instead of losing a tarot card painter, you are gaining a rich and handsome son," Stella said, trying to console him. Pietro stormed around his desk and glared at her, making her feel five years old again.

"You had magic, and you never told me. How could you?"

"It was to protect you and the business. You know this place means everything to me. Don’t worry, we have enough money to hire another painter, and I can still help with all the rest. Gio could’ve killed me—"

Pietro clamped his hands over his ears. "Don’t refer to our Doge by his first name. My heart can only take so much."

Stella got up and hugged her father. He grumbled for a bit before putting his arms around her.

"Does the prince make you happy at least?" Pietro said, finally.

Stella grinned as she let her father go. "Yes, surprisingly enough." It was an understatement. Just thinking about Dom brought a contented smile to her face.

They hadn’t spent a night apart since Stella had accepted him as her mate. Dom had been willing to wait for workers to convert his large attic room into a studio for her before she moved in with him, but he wouldn’t give an inch on the sleeping arrangements. Dom was determined not to spend a night without her, and Stella hadn’t argued.

"I never thought I would see the day when you would be smitten by a man. Especially a shifter," her father said.

"Speaking of shifters, Carmella is organizing a family dinner for Sunday, and you are coming because she wants to meet you. If I have to suffer through the awkwardness of it, you do too."

"Is she as pretty in real life as she is in the papers?" Pietro asked. The image of Carmella clawing out Rodrigo’s throat flashed in her mind, and Stella’s smile widened.

"Prettier," Stella replied.

Pietro held her at arm’s length. "And what about the Grand Sorcerer?"

"Oh, Arkon is exceptionally pretty."

Pietro’s eyes rose heavenward. "Not what I meant, bambina. Are you going to work for him now?"

"I’m not sure. I don’t think he’s thought that far ahead. He wants to study my magic, maybe help me with it if he can. Otherwise, I’ll be here working with you."

"Good. Now, go and see your lover. Tell him I want to talk to him and soon," Pietro said.

"If he wasn’t occupied by the Council meetings to officially elect Carmella today, he would be here already. Don’t wait up."

"Ha! I wouldn’t bother," Pietro replied. Stella kissed his cheek and went back upstairs to get Dom’s painting.

She ran her hands over the thick, blank cards that she used to paint nearly every day. Her heart ached at the thought of being banned from painting a deck ever again, but she had her life, and that was more important.

Stella’s gaze snagged on a half-finished card of The Hanged Man sitting on top of a sketchbook. Her hand went instantly to her throat as she thought of her nightmare, but then a sharp bark of laughter escaped her.

She had indeed suffered three deaths since her dream of being hanged three times; the death of her secret life hiding her power, the death of her being a tarot painter, and the death of her ever being a single entity again. In return for those sacrifices, she was now a fulmian mage, an artist, and a mate to the most powerful shedu in the Republic.

Sacrifice and rebirth, just as the card promised.

It wasn’t like Stella wasn’t going to be busy. Zahir had boasted about the portrait she was going to do of him, and she was getting flooded with other requests, most notably from Nico’s aunt, General Josefina D’Argento and her wife.

Stella had also started informal lessons with Carmella to get to know her mother-in-law better and have her guide Stella into the Aladoro world. That was all before Arkon’s insistence on studying her magic.

Stella was tired just thinking about everything she was now expected to know and do. She looked at the painting before her, staring into Dom’s golden eyes.

She might not be Venice’s favorite tarot painter anymore, but getting to kiss Domenico Aladoro as often as she liked was excellent compensation.

Stella wrapped up the painting and looked across the canal at Dom’s palazzo. Carmella’s efforts to turn her into a lady weren’t about to stop her from doing what came naturally.

Stella’s face broke into a deviant grin. She had a house to break into.

* * *

Dom didhis best not to fidget the longer the Council meeting dragged on.

They were still trying to sort out the wreckage Rodrigo’s betrayal had left in their lives. As much as Dom didn’t get along with his father, his death still made his heart hurt. Knowing that Rodrigo died hating him hurt worst of all.

Carmella had handed over the contents of Rodrigo’s office to Arkon and the Ravens. The Council was determined to cover the shame of having a traitor in their midst.

They knew that more conspirators were hiding in the Republic but Gio wasn’t about to alert any other war profiteers that they were on to them.

Today Carmella looked happier than Dom had ever seen her, dressed in the traditional gold-and-scarlet Aladoro brocade as she said her vows and knelt before Gio to accept her medal of office.

Dom would’ve had to be blind not to notice the small smile the Doge gave Carmella as he helped her stand. He would’ve been stupid to mention it to anyone.

After the formalities, once the meeting had finally adjourned, Dom kissed Carmella’s cheek and all but ran for the door.

"Dom, I need a word," Arkon called after him.

"No, you don’t. You are just trying to get in my way."

"Give him the benefit of the doubt," Zahir said, appearing on the other side of him. "How is your Stella doing? Has she recovered from her ordeal?"

"Yes. She is well," Dom said cautiously. He didn’t like the djinn’s fondness for his mate or the provocative poses he had suggested that Stella paint him in.

"Good. I want her to report to my office tomorrow at noon," Arkon interrupted. "She promised to take lessons with me."

"And I haven’t forgotten that portrait she is going to paint for me. I have bought the perfect white throw rug I want to be lounging on for it," Zahir added.

They were both wearing mischievous grins, and Dom knew that they were purposely messing with him.

"Fine, I’ll tell her. That is, if you let me go," he said, trying to rein in his temper.

"You should come and have a drink with us to celebrate your mating. I need a big one after the ear-bashing I got from Gio this morning," Arkon replied.

He reached for Dom, but Zahir stepped in and took his arm. The djinn shot Dom a wink.

"Come, sorcerer, I’ll make you a drink good enough to forget even the Wolf Mage. Let’s leave the cub to play with his mate."

"Okay, but this better not be like the last time I drank with you and woke up with no clothes on," Arkon complained.

"All depends on if you ask me very nicely. And to set the record straight, no one asked you to take them off, you did that on your own."

Those two are the most dangerous men in Venice, Dom thought in disbelief, shaking his head as he watched them wander away.

* * *

Dom flew home fast,eager to change and get over to see Stella. He was taking off his clothes when a black-and-gold picture on the wall caught his eye.

It was a new portrait of him sitting on a throne-like chair, holding a sword. His eyes were glowing with an authoritative look, and all around the border gold-tipped wings and blades jumbled together.

"Are you going to keep breaking into my palazzo, or would you like your own key?" Dom asked. Stella was lying on his bed, a book open at her elbow.

"Where would the fun be in having a key? Do you like your painting, King of Swords?" she asked, emerald eyes shining. "Oh, you must. You are giving me the exact same look right now."

Dom slowly unbuttoned his shirt, delighting in the way her heart rate went up. "And what look would that be?"

"My favorite one. The look that says you don’t know whether you want to kill me or fuck me," she said as he closed in on her.

"I’m sure you can guess."

Stella squeaked and tried to jump off the other side of the bed, but Dom pounced, grabbing her, and pinning her down on the mattress.

"What did I tell you about running?" He bent his head to nip at her neck and jaw.

"That I should do it all the time because it turns you on?" Stella said and rocked her hips up against him.

"Definitely," he replied, pulling her clothes off. Stella made a sound between a purr and a growl as he caught her nipple in his mouth. "Oh, I like that sound, mate."

"Picking up bad habits." Stella flipped him onto his back. Dom let her pin him down, loving when her dominant side came out.

"Or good ones," he countered. His hands traced her face, still marveling that she was finally his.

Stella lowered her head and whispered, "Submit."

Dom’s heart swelled as he laughed softly at his fierce mate. "I submit." He brought his lips to hers, worshiping her mouth and feeding all his love for her into their embrace. "But only to you, my misteriosa."