Copyright © 2019 by Melinda Terranova
All rights reserved.
Cover Designer: Rebecca Garcia @ Dark Wish Designs
Formatter: Rebecca Garcia @ Dark Wish Designs
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
In a city shrouded in secrets, it was only fitting Toviah held his close to his heart. Standing with his back against the cold stone of the wall, he watched the fog roll in. If he squinted hard enough, he could make out the domes of the buildings across the channel and the faint outline of the closest bridge. Soon he would be free to roam as he pleased, once the fog set in and blanketed the city in a grey haze. No one would pay him attention in the morning hustle and bustle. This was the first morning of Carnevale. A day Toviah despised and loved all the same, for with the addition of his mask he could remain unseen. Unknown in the city that knows him as Prince Toviah, the next in line to the throne of Venezia.
A bell tolled, making him jump. It was his cue to leave his hiding place. He pushed himself off the wall, head down and with quick strides, made it across the bridge and past the row of merchants setting up their stalls. Princes like him would not be seen dead scurrying through these parts, it was looked down upon to mingle with the everyday folk. He rounded the corner of a two storey rose- colored building and breathed a sigh of relief. He had arrived just at the right time. He watched the grey-haired man load his trinkets, made of the famous venetian glass, into his wagon and waited for him to be a good few yards down the road before he slipped through the entry.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Toviah made it up to the second- floor within seconds. He stood at the maroon coloured door for a few moments collecting his thoughts, his heart raced against his chest. He looked around carefully before he gently tapped on the door.
She was more enchanting than anyone he had ever seen before. Her butter blonde locks cascaded in curls to the middle of her back and her milky skin glowed in the dim morning light. His breath hitched as she stepped through the door and into his arms, her sweet scent filling his senses.
“My love, how I have missed you,” Toviah whispered into her ear.
“It has been but only a day, you silly lovesick fool,” Elisabetta giggled. She grabbed him by the hands and pulled him after her into her home. He stood inches above her in height, his broad shoulders easily hiding her from view. “Had my father left before you arrived?” She worried.
He cradled her in his arms, her chest flush against him. “He was well and truly on his way. Why do you worry? I am the master of stealth.” He smiled lazily.
“You! The master of jokes more like it,” she laughed.
He pulled her tighter into him, wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and gazed into her molten dark eyes. Elisabetta snaked her hands up his broad chest and rested them against the back of his neck, playing with his sandy brown hair, she leant up towards him and his lips finally found hers.
. . .
Toviah lay with Elisabetta’s head resting on his chest, she loved to listen to his heartbeat and he loved to watch her sleep. They spent most mornings like this, curled up in bed until the sun was high in the sky. It was the only time he could escape the confines of the palace without any questions. Toviah’s father, King Emanuele, would not approve of his only son consorting with a merchant’s daughter. Who knows what he would do if he found out.
“Do you have to leave so soon,” Elisabetta asked as she kissed him on the chest.
“You know I would stay all day and all night if I were permitted.”
“I know,” she sighed.
Toviah gently lifted her chin so their eyes met, “I have a courier dropping off a package for the First Ball tonight. Make sure you wear what I have chosen so that I know it is you. I don’t want to accidently kiss another tonight,” he laughed.
Elisabetta slapped at his shoulder playfully. “You devil you shouldn’t have. I could have worn last years gown and mask.”
Toviah smiled at her, a smile that touched both his heart and soul. He was deeply in love and couldn’t share it with another soul. This was why he loved Elisabetta, because she was not impressed by his grandness. She loved him for who he was when he was with her.
“I must leave, it is late, and father thinks I am in class.” He jumped up and pulled on his pants and shirt, now crinkled from laying in a heap on the floor. “Until tonight, my lover.”
“Until tonight.” Elisabetta blew him kisses as he escaped out her bedroom door.
. . .
The theatrics of Carnevale gave Toviah indigestion, the anonymity gave him hope. Every year the same First Ball, every year more and more attendees. Dressed in his new attire, rich in turquoise hues and gold swirls, he wore his black jewel encrusted mask, a mask passed down from his grandfather. His excitement to see his love tonight, with her golden hair and ruby lips, was almost too much to bear. But first he had to fulfil his royal duties. Toviah was fed up standing at the main entrance greeting all the guests in their colorful masks and gowns. His hour would be up shortly and then it would be his cousin, Bastian’s turn to stand and greet the guests and appear to be happy about it.
Bastian and Toviah were two peas in a pod, both were referred to as the delinquents of the Royals. Both were the same age and cared for nothing else but to have a good time. Oftentimes they could be found together, drunk at a bar causing mischief and neither would own up to their stupidity. The King and his brother would turn a blind eye to their son’s behaviours as they too were young once and knew that in a few years Toviah would have the weight of the Kingdom on his shoulders and Bastian would be there to support him. Until such time, the two young men were left to their own devices and no one could say a damn thing.
“Your time is up my brother,” Bastian bellowed as he slapped Toviah on the shoulder.
“You’re late and you stink of port.” Toviah gripped Bastian in a friendly hug.
“I only drank enough to get through this circus.” He gestured to the line of guests down the steps.
“I’ll see you at the bar,” Toviah laughed and retreated inside. He stood with his back to the guests and his elbows leaning on the marble bar. His drink of choice was golden port, the bar tender ensured it flowed freely tonight.
“My dearest son.” He heard his mother say.
He turned in her direction and she placed a kiss on each of his cheeks. She stood with another noble visitor, Countess Veronica. The one he was supposed to be married off to in the next few months. As lovely as Veronica was in the looks department, he despised her personality. She was as shallow as a tide pool on a hot summer’s day, her social climbing antics never hidden.
“It is a pleasure to see you Veronica, I do hope you enjoy the First Ball.” Toviah took her hand and placed a kiss on it. He wouldn’t embarrass his mother, his Royal training kicking in.
“It is my pleasure to be here Toviah.” She curtsied.
“I see father,” Toviah announc
ed in the hope to escape. But before he could scurry away, his mother placed her hand gently on his and held him in place.
“My dear son, you must ask Veronica for the first dance tonight.” Her glare cemented him to the spot.
Toviah swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, and all he managed in response was a polite nod. He did not make eye contact with Veronica before he stepped out of his mother’s grasp and quickly fled. He found himself on the second-floor balcony overlooking the spectacle below. The time for the first dance was fast approaching and he was desperate to find Elisabetta, he hadn’t spotted her in the crowd yet and his stomach churned in knots at the thought of his love not showing.
Arms snaked around his waist and he stiffened. “Always the outsider.” A gentle voice brushed his ears.
Toviah did not need to turn around to know it was his Elisabetta, he could pick her voice out of a thousand others. He laced his fingers through hers and pulled her against his back. “You must be mistaken miss. I am not who you think I am.” He smiled to himself.
“Oh, but kind sir, please forgive me. I mistook you for my one and only love, Salvatore.” Elisabetta giggled.
Toviah spun on his heels to face her, her beauty took his breath away. He was momentarily robbed of the ability to speak; her golden hair was pinned back and fell in soft waves down her back revealing her delicate neck. Her plump lips stained the same shade of crimson as her frock and mask. He had chosen well, the colour complementing her milky skin. He noticed a flush form on her décolletage and realised he had been drinking her in.
“I want to devour you right here.” He licked his lips with hunger.
“The things you say aren’t very gentlemanly.” She flushed.
“Oh, but my love, the things I want to do are not in the least bit gentlemanly. It will kill me to wait until morning to undress you and do ungentlemanly things to you,” he growled as he pulled her into his chest.
“Toviah! Don’t say such things out loud. What if someone were to hear?” She squeaked.
He kissed her neck and his warm lips trailed their way to her ear. “Let them hear, I don’t care,” he whispered.
“I care.” She pushed at his chest.
He stepped back. “It’s the truth though. I will stop for tonight; tomorrow morning is a different story.” He winked.
“Promise?” She smiled up at him.
“Promise.” He tilted her face up and kissed her.
The sound of the Royal trumpets echoed around the great ball room and Toviah knew he had his Royal duty to be down on the stage with his parents and Bastian, ready for the announcement of the First Dance. Each year young women from other noble families would attend in the hopes to be chosen by the Prince to accompany him in the First Dance. It was a great honour to be chosen and the Queen had her heart set on Veronica.
“You must go.” Elisabetta pushed at him.
“What if I don’t?”
“Your mother will not be happy. Now go or you will be late.”
Toviah held Elisabetta’s hand and kissed it twice before retreating down the grand staircase. He had a plan and he knew that it would outrage his mother, but he did not care the slightest. He was of age and his mother needed to stay out of his affairs.
. . .
Toviah and Bastian stood with the King and Queen on the stage awaiting the announcement of the First Dance. Toviah looked out over the gathered crowd in their colourful gowns and intricate masks. It was easy to see why the Venetians loved this time of year, Carnevale was a perfect time to come out and play and not be held accountable. If one did not want to be recognised, one simply donned a new mask and did as one pleased. He and Bastian certainly had their fair share of stories that they did not discuss, the two young men kept their secrets close, neither telling on the other. Toviah had not told Bastian about Elisabetta, not that he did not trust Bastian with his life as well as his secrets. But the thought of Elisabetta’s name being uttered by another had Toviah’s heart in a flutter.
The announcer stood at the front of the stage and tapped the microphone to get the guests attention. “It is with pleasure my friends that I announce the official beginning of Carnevale.”
The guests cheered and whistled. Toviah looked up at the second-floor balcony where his love still stood. She was a sight to behold. Their eyes met, and she gave a little wave to which Toviah winked in response.
The announcer cleared his throat to hush the rowdy guests. “Now my friends, it is that time of night that we are all eager to watch. The very reason many young women make the journey to this very event. It is time to announce the First Dance.”
The crowd roared with glee. The announcer allowed for it this time as he too was excited. In his hand he held the very special envelope with the names of the two lucky young ladies who would escort the Prince and his cousin for the first dance.
Toviah started to sweat with anxiety. His buttoned-up shirt was too tight and suffocating, and he quickly wiped away the bead of sweat that had formed on his brow.
“It’s just a dance,” Bastian whispered.
“For us, but not for my mother,” Toviah said with distaste.
Both Bastian and Toviah glanced towards the Queen who stood smiling at the guests. Toviah knew what she was thinking by the set of her shoulders. The Queen loved her only son and wanted the best for him, and Veronica was who she had her sights on. It was a pity he did not feel the same.
“One dance. It’s not the end of your life Toviah,” Bastian teased.
“We’ll see,” Toviah sighed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that I announce King Emanuele and Queen Margherita to the dance floor.” The announcer bowed as they stepped onto the floor. “The lucky lady to accompany Prince Bastian this evening is Isabella Contari.” The crowd cheered and clapped in response.
“Good choice.” Toviah nudged Bastian in the arm.
Bastian grinned as he made his way to the dance floor and waited for Isabella to join him. She curtsied, and he kissed her hand before he lead her to their position to the left of the King and Queen. Queen Margherita was most pleased with Bastian’s choice and she beamed as they approached.
Toviah’s heart beat so hard, he thought it would escape through his chest. He breathed deeply to help ease his nerves, every year he felt the same. He hated the eyes of his future Kingdom on him, he did not care for the spotlight and the First Dance always made him feel ill. Toviah clenched and released his fists as the announcer looked at the paper with the names.
“It is now my pleasure to announce Prince Toviah, future King of Venezia’s partner for this very special First Dance. Please welcome the lovely Elisabetta Fiorentini.” The guests cheered and whistled.
Toviah’s eyes snapped to the second-floor balcony where his love stood in complete surprise. He nodded for her to join him and she shook her head, her eyes wide in shock. Toviah headed towards the crowd of guests and they parted to reveal a walkway to the grand stair case. Toviah did not take his eyes off his love as he made his way through the crowd to wait for her at the base of the stairs. Elisabetta hesitantly descended, her eyes never leaving Toviah’s until he took her hand and placed a feather light kiss on her fingertips.
“What have you done?” Elisabetta whispered.
“What I want. Always what I want,” Toviah answered, a wicked grin danced on his perfect face.
Toviah lead his Elisabetta to their position to the right of the King and Queen. He felt the full force of his mother’s glare pressing against him, but he did not look at her. He did not care for anyone else at this moment, he would deal with the repercussions later. Right now, it was just him and Elisabetta as far as he was concerned.
The Royal band began with the official Masquerade song, the enchanting melody echoed around the grand ballroom. After what felt like an eternity standing in the spotlight with the whispers in the crowd loud enough for him to hear, Toviah was grateful for the music. He held on to Elisabetta’s ha
nd and pulled her to face him, her face showed no emotion, but he could feel her rapid heartbeat against his chest. He watched her intently until her eyes met his, a small smile played at the corners of her delicate mouth. Toviah knew he would be in trouble from not only his parents but from Elisabetta too.
“You are everything my love,” Toviah whispered in to her ear.
“You are a fool.” Elisabetta smiled up at him. He knew her heart would not be angry for long.
“A fool maybe. A love-sick fool most certainly.” He winked.
“As am I,” she replied.
Toviah relished in the fact that he could hold her close to him, their bodies as one here in the presence of all those that mattered. Even if just this very one time. He knew his actions could not be repeated. His mother would ensure that true. So, Toviah held on to this one moment, this one last dance before his life would be most certainly over. This one last dance with his true love before he was forced to marry another for the Kingdom he did not want.
Chapter Two
The moon shone over the grand canal in an iridescent glow, the only breaks in it’s magic on the water, were from the gliding gondolas as they sliced through the ink coloured waters. It was just days away from the full blood moon and Toviah knew this meant new beginnings. A blood moon was feared in Venezia, superstition believed it was the moon of the devil. A time when evil lurked.
Toviah held Elisabetta to his side, they watched the moon in silence from the second- floor balcony. Elisabetta insisted they come out here after the first dance to get some air. Toviah knew it was to escape his mother.
“I won’t let her do anything to you.” Toviah kissed her hair.
“It’s not your mother I worry about,” she replied.
“Tell me my love, what is it that is worrying you?”
“What will happen to you now that you danced with me. A merchant’s daughter.”
“I am my mother’s only child. Nothing will happen to me. She knows how defiant I am, that I do not do as I am told,” Toviah chuckled.
Blood Prince (Heir of the Blood Curse) Page 1