Page 158 of Lovely Venom

“I worry about you, too. You don’t have a guard.”

“I have the entire enforcer team.” He smiles as his fingers squeeze mine.

“Val said you found the antidote bottle. You saved my life. I would’ve died if it wasn’t for you.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just shifts forward, crouching beside the bed, our faces inches apart.

“Then I would have, too,” he says, voice rough. “Because I can’t live without you. I don’t want to.”

My heart cracks and blooms at the same time. “I love you, Connor.”

“I love you, too,” he says, brushing his mouth gently against mine.

“What now?” I choke up. “There’s only one way to stop my father’s people from retaliating for LevinBerisha.”

“And that is?” The brat is making me do all the work.

But I had the easy part, sleeping and healing while in a coma. This week was a flash of time for me. Connor had to endure every hour, minute, and second watching me fight my way back to him.Anddreading that I might have been raped. I cringe, thinking what that must have been like for him.

I whisper, “We have to be aligned. Publicly. Permanently.”

Connor’s mouth curves into a slow smile.

“Princess or prisoner, you were going to be mine, forever, no matter what, Venom.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Raina – November

Elder widows from the old country who remember the last ancient royal wedding flew in days ago with a custom ceremonial coronation ensemble.

They dress me in silver. Armor. I’m wearing freaking metal! No gown here.

A fitted breastplate etched with ancient symbols I don’t recognize but feel in my bones wraps around my torso like they dipped me in liquid silicone to craft this thing. My shoulders are bare, but a long white cathedral-length train clips to the steel with tiny, coiled serpents. A circlet of obsidian rests on my forehead, and when I turn my head, it gleams like firelight.

I look like a weaponanda princess.

Father, as I call him in front of his men out of respect, and I will be crowned in front of the brotherhood together. Over a double-breasted jacket with gold threads and buttons, Valdrin wears a robe of midnight blue trimmed in white and gold fur. Wrapped in his meaty fist, myfather carries a staff that is carved with snakes and roses.

Drums echo down the marble halls of the opulent mansion just north of Manhattan.

I smell the kerosene of torches to light the halls. I hear swords unsheathed in a ceremonial rhythm.

“Are you ready,zemër?” Valdrin asks me with a hand extended out for me to take.

It means so much to share this honor with him that I’m choked for words. All I can manage is, “Let’s do this.”

He lowers the mask of steady vigilance to allow for a low chuckle between us. “It’s not a Nike commercial.”

No, these are not sneakers on my feet. These are combat boots on steroids.

A slow, deliberate hush descends over the room as I step into the chamber to take my place as princess and heir-apparent.

It took a few weeks, but Valdrin assembled a council mixed with traditionalists who blessed his ascension tokyre. He sought the kind of men who prefer the brotherhood to be honored and revered over hated. While maintaining the typical ruthless ambition and a level of fear common with all organized crime families.

No more knights.

The twelve hand-selected council members, wearing what appear to be military dress uniforms, line the aisle and begin a soft clapping. No music, just the gentle rhythm of a slow applause signals Valdrin and me to take our place as leaders.