“Says the angel of death who forced me to marry him,” she said, and surprise flickered across her face, as if she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Better I marry you and trust my ring to keep other men away than let you go and be driven to kill anyone who looks at you.” Vlad stepped forward until he hovered over her, watching with a sick sense of pride as her chest heaved at his words. “I knew you were mine the minute I laid eyes on you, little witch. Marrying you was the only civil choice, but your safety in my house has made you forget who I am, so let me remind you.” He reached out and gripped her chin with his tattooed hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. Fanghissed at his closeness and sank his razor-sharp fangs into his flesh, but Vlad didn’t so much as blink as the cat drew blood. Maybe she’d named him after the right person, after all.
“Do you know how many men I’ve killed with this hand?” he asked. “How many witches I’ve murdered? Other vampires I’ve butchered?”
Belladonna shook her head, and while fear didn’t plague her eyes, there was a healthy dose of wariness.
“I’m not a leader who doles out punishment, then hides from the bloodshed. I believe he who orders the execution should have the balls to carry it out, which is why I tattooed this skull on my skin. It’s to remind my enemies that I do not cower in the face of death. I don’t back down from the violence. I’ve ripped men’s heads from their necks with this hand, and when I saw you, I knew I would rip apart anyone who so much as thought inappropriately about you. It’s why you’re safe in my house. Why you can parade around wearing practically nothing smelling like divinity in the flesh. My vampires know what I would do if they made you even slightly uncomfortable.” Vlad stepped closer until their chests almost touched.
“So, yes, I married you. Seemed the better option than me stalking you for the rest of eternity and slaughtering any man who dares come near you, don’t you agree?”
Belladonna swallowed, her chest heaving at his words, and he smirked at how fast her heart beat, at how the scent of her arousal coiled through the air. He knew she must suspect what he was fairly certain of. She must be feeling the effects of why he claimed her. Her desire curled thick and sweet between them, and her reaction made him want to lean forward and finally taste her lips. She could fight all she wanted, but their story would end the same. He could feel it deep in his soul. This woman was his.
“I have business at a club tonight.” Vlad dropped her chinwhen she didn’t answer, remembering his reason for following her, and he watched her stumble back with amusement. “I want you to come.”
“With you?” she asked. “Outside of this house?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not afraid I’ll run.”
“No. But if you do, I’ll chase you. That’s a promise.”
Her eyes flared, and for a split second, Vlad wondered if he should be nervous. She seemed too interested in that idea.
“I’m meeting some colleagues,” he continued, trying not to fantasize about chasing her. “They prefer to do business in clubs. They think it stops me from shedding blood. I bought you all those beautiful dresses, but since you refuse to wear them around the house, put one on and come with me. You can dance while we talk.”
“No,” Belladonna spat, but he saw the lie in her eyes. She was refusing out of spite, but she desperately wanted to go.
“We’re leaving at 11 p.m.,” Vlad said, petting Fang’s head as his blood dripped onto the cat’s fur. “I would prefer you wear one of those expensive dresses I gave you, but if you’re still wearing this tee shirt and socks when I come to collect you, then so be it. I’m sure you would rather party in a designer ensemble, but it doesn’t matter to me either way.” He turned and strode toward his office. “11 p.m., little witch. And test me if you like. I don’t care if everyone in this city sees you in this cute tee shirt, but are you really willing to walk into a vampire club dressed like that?”
It was 10:55 p.m., and Belladonna stood in her underwear before her bed, staring at her outfit options. She had five minutes left to decide, and if she didn’t don one of them, shepredicted Vlad would make her go in her bra and panties out of spite.
“What do you guys think?” she asked her cats, who were currently lounging on her pillows. Despite his attitude toward everyone who wasn’t a witch, Fang had instantly taken to Broomstick, and Belladonna tried to ignore the metaphor for her and Vlad the animals offered. “Do I wear sweatpants to spite Mr. I’m-So-Scary-Yet-Way-Too-Sexy, because let’s face it, that would be funny, or do I wear this gorgeous little black dress that still has the price tag on and… holy shit, that’s a lot of numbers.” She slammed the dress onto the bed with an irritated groan. “I haven’t left this house in two months. I’ve seen no one but vampires. I’ve worn nothing but shorts and bathing suits, and I need to wear this dress.” She snatched it back up and held it before her body, showing off for her cats as if they understood her dilemma. “It just feels like surrendering if I wear this, and I can’t surrender. Not to him. Sure, Vlad isn’t who I thought he was… okay, yes, he is. He’s absolutely the monster my mother warned me about. He forced me to marry him… but he also hasn’t hurt me. He doesn’t touch me. I assumed he would make my life hell here, but oddly enough, it’s been pleasant.”
Belladonna groaned as she fell backward onto the mattress. “I hate men.”
Footsteps interrupted her pity party, and she bolted upright. “Shit.” She grabbed the little black dress, tore the tag off it, and shimmied into it faster than she thought possible. “Shit, shit, shit.” She raced for her shoe rack with the dress still unzipped as a knock rattled the door. “One minute!” she called.
“I said 11 p.m.” Vlad shoved the door open, and Belladonna yelped, tripping on her undone heels.
“Don’t just barge in. I could’vebeen naked!”
“Little witch, this is the most clothes I’ve seen on you in weeks,” Vlad said. “Come on, let’s go.”
“I need to put my shoes on.”
“I told you that you would wear whatever you had on at 11 p.m.”
“You’re an asshole!” She chucked her stiletto at him, but he caught it with perfect reflexes.
“And you’re late,” he said as he caught the second heel she launched at his head, and then he lunged for her and threw her over his shoulder. “Bye Fang. Bye Broomstick. Don’t wait up.”
“Put me down!” Belladonna pounded his back, her bare feet flailing and her dress hanging open. “Stop being a dick and put me down.”
“As you wish.” Vlad picked up his pace as he carried her down the stairs and out the front door, where he deposited her in the waiting car. He slammed the door in her face and then walked to the driver’s side, tossing her heels into her lap as he slid behind the wheel. “Put your shoes on and let me zip you up. Did you really think I would let my wife out of the house undressed and embarrassed?” He grabbed the zipper and pulled it up her spine, his knuckles brushing her bare back as he moved, and Belladonna had emotional whiplash from his sudden shift in demeanor. “Inside our home, you can do whatever you want, but out here in the real world, you are my wife. You’re an extension of me, of my family, and my power. Whether you like it or not, you hold a position of respect, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone disrespect you.”
Vlad extended his arm, and Belladonna slipped her hand around his biceps as the attendant parked the car. The clubwas teaming with life, the line already down the block, but Vlad led her toward the VIP entrance. A secret thrill ran through her as every woman watched with jealousy, both at their instant access and the sex appeal of her date. Combined with the freedom to cast magic, Belladonna couldn’t resist the urge and shot a jolt of electricity through her fingers into her husband’s suit-clad muscles.
