Page 162 of Devoted

“Oh,” I said.

“Close your mouth and sit down, Emberline,” Emilia said with the serenity of a woman who was excellent at keeping secrets. “Have something to eat, although I dare say, you drank your fill last night.”

I reached up and touched the bite marks on my own neck.

Gods, was there something in the air around here?

“How long?” I asked, not moving.

“Longer than the Dynasty has existed in its current form.” Severin grinned, pulling out the chair beside him and patting the seat. Emilia sat down, her own smile frighteningly wide. “Which is why I’d appreciate you not making a big deal about it.”

“I’m not making a big deal.”

“You are making a big deal. Now sit down and eat.”

I sat down and reached for more coffee, not taking my eyes off the two of them.

Okay, so maybe I was making this weird, but it was.

So weird.

Lucien watched this exchange with a faint smile that suggested he found us all mildly entertaining. Even sitting down, I could tell he was tall and lean, like Nico, every movement smooth and economical. A soldier, then. He looked as if he was about forty in appearance, which, given the present company, meant nothing.

“Lucien, this is Emberline,” Emilia said. “Emberline, Lucien.”

“We’ve met, but you were pretty out of it,” I said, my mouth falling open when Lucien took Emilia’s other hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

Maybe I’d hit my head yesterday.

Maybe I was actually having an aneurysm, and all of this was a hallucination.

Still, watching the three of them over the rim of my coffee cup was better than any TV mini-drama. I was still watching the show when Gabriel came in, clean-shaven and steadier than I expected, Dante right behind him, shaggy hair down around his shoulders, dressed in a loose pair of black pants someone had loaned him.

They made small talk with Emilia and Severin, traded pleasantries with Lucien, then took the chairs on either side of me, big, muscled thighs pressed against mine.

We were nearly finished eating when Nico arrived, dropping into a chair with the loose ease of someone who was still half-asleep. “Coffee?” he said hopefully, and I pointed to the pot right behind him.

Then he caught sight of Lucien and his whole demeanor changed, posture stiffening, top lip rising to bare a single white fang. Lucien just grinned back.

“I heard an interesting rumor this morning,” Severin said brightly, looking happier than if it was his birthday. “It seems an iron-clad prison ship showed up in the Grand Canal, right in front of the DiRavello palazzo. Nobody seems to have a clue how it got there. The bow was sunk so deep in the muck, it took ten abjurists to budge the thing.”

“Hmmm, you don’t say?” Nico put his cup to his lips, so I could only see his eyes, gleaming with mischief. “Seems like something you should investigate. As the head of the Draconi Brotherhood and all.”

“I fully intend to.” Severin’s lips twitched. “All I can say is, you really fucked up my day, and I don’t mind one bit since I get to ask Giovanni if he knows anything, then listen to his mental gymnastics as he tries to explain this clusterfuck away.”

“Glad I could accommodate.” Nico reached over the table and clasped Severin’s hand, something passing between them—the recognition of two males who trusted each other implicitly.

“I heard voices…” Valeria paused in the doorway, her gaze flying between us.

She was dressed in a loose, white robe. Her hair was back, her spine was straight, and the paleness of her face told me she hadn’t slept much. But she took us all in, squared her shoulders, and eyed the chair next to Nico.

“Sit down,” I told her, pushing to my feet. “Let me get you some coffee.”

Emilia folded her hands.

Scattered, empty plates littered the table. We were all over-caffeinated and on edge, silence reigning as we all waited for her to speak.

“I have someone,” she explained, “inside Blackwood’s organization. He has been there for two centuries now.” She paused, letting that settle. “His name is Romulus Decarus.”