“Where did they go?” Vlad captured her wrist, stopping her exploration of his body as panic poisoned his chest.
“Probably off to have a good time,” she crooned, oblivious to his fear. “We should do the same. I don’t live far from?—”
“Which way did they go?” Vlad growled, his voice more animal than man, and the woman released a startled squeak.
“That way.” She pointed toward a rear door, and Vlad dropped her arm, cutting through the dancing crowd like a blade through wheat. Intense fear coiled through his limbs as his mind begged for him not to be too late. He couldn’t be too late. He’d promised Belladonna nothing would happen to her, and he knew she was mad about Gabriel. Livid about how brutish he’d been at their wedding, but the witch was no fool. She hadn’t willingly left with four men,and his terror was so strong that he thought he might vomit.
Vlad burst out of the back door, and the second the night air hit him, he smelled it. Fear. Her fear. She was close, and she was scared. He lifted his nose into the soft breeze and inhaled. The intoxicating fragrance of Belladonna’s skin mixed with the scent of four distinct male vampires, and he launched into a run. He pushed his legs faster than he’d ever moved, and an all-consuming rage settled over him when he saw them.
One vampire held Belladonna by the waist, forcing her listless body to remain still and upright as the other three revealed their fangs. Vlad knew she was drunk, but by the way she hung from the stranger’s arms, he knew her lethargy wasn’t alcohol induced. His wife had been drugged, and all traces of Vlad vanished as the angel of death assumed control.
“If you let her go, I’ll kill you quickly,” he said so low it was as if he was born of darkness and malice. “I will sever your heads from your body and end your lives swiftly.”
“Fuck off!” One vampire shouted over his shoulder, clearly unaware of who he was addressing. “This bitch is a witch, and she wandered into our territory. The treaty states we can’t go looking for fights, but I’ll be damned if I let those scum cross into our districts and get away with it.”
“That is not just some witch,” Vlad said. “That is my wife. And you will fucking pay for putting your hands on her.”
“That is my wife.”
Belladonna recognized that voice, and she cried out as its menacing tone echoed through the dark alleyway. “Vlad!” she screamed, her hazy mind focusing on his presence. Hermagic latched onto his strength, and her overwhelming intoxication faded slightly. She didn’t think she could cast a spell yet, but her vision cleared enough to see her husband, only it wasn’t her husband standing before her. It was the angel of death. The vampire named for the Impaler. Terror had come to this alley. Terror in the most beautiful form.
“Vlad?” the vampire holding her repeated, and he threw her to the ground so hard, she slapped the wall. Her shoulder instantly bruised, and she cried out, watching Vlad’s image darken with unbridled rage as she hit the pavement.
“Sir, we apologize.” The vampire bowed, prostrating himself before death. “We didn’t realize this was your wife. If we had, we never would have?—”
Those were all the words Vlad allowed him. With the speed and precision of an alpha predator, he lunged forward and seized the vampire who’d been holding her. With unmatched power, his tattooed hand gripped the man’s head and tore it from his body, blood splattering the pavement. Belladonna gasped at the violence as her other three assailants fled for their lives, but Vlad simply turned and grabbed one by the neck. With a single swipe, he ripped the man’s throat out, and then he captured the third’s wrist. He yanked him back, grasped his head, and shoved him into the wall, caving his skull in until it was pulp.
Belladonna screamed as the corpses fell around her, and she scrambled backward over the ground on unstable limbs, watching as the fourth vampire raced for the main street. He was almost out in the open, almost too far from Vlad's reach, but her husband simply bent his powerful legs and jumped. He landed heavily in front of the fleeing assailant, and with eyes as evil as the devil’s himself, he grabbed the vampire with his tattooed hand and yanked him to his mouth. His fangs exploded, and Vlad dug his teeth into the vampire’s throat. The man screamed. And screamed, and screamed,and screamed, but Vlad didn’t stop until he drank his victim dry. Only once the body was nothing but a hollow corpse did he race to Belladonna’s side.
“I didn’t go outside with them,” she sobbed as he scooped her into his arms, blood dripping from his jaw. She didn’t know why that confession captured her focus. She’d just watched the angel of death slaughter four vampires as if it were a walk in the park. Her husband’s sheer display of violence should terrorize her, but as she gripped his suit, all she could think about was telling him she hadn’t left him. She hadn’t wanted to leave him.
“I know, little witch.” Vlad pulled her closer as Bartholomew burst out into the alley. “Don’t worry. You’re safe now, I promise.”
Belladonna collapsed in his embrace and sobbed against his shirt as he held her close. “You came for me.”
“I told you I would, and I do not make idle promises,” he said. “You are my wife. I will always come for you.”
Vlad parked in the underground garage, but before Belladonna could opened the door, he rounded the car’s hood and scooped her into his arms.
“I can walk,” she protested, but he ignored her, carrying her up the stairs and into the mansion. The moment he found her in the alley, the fog in her brain instantly began to clear. She’d consumed a decent amount of alcohol, but the intoxication seemed too intense for the number of shots. She couldn’t think. She could barely see. She couldn’t even call upon her magic. One night in college, she, Juniper, and Hazel had gotten so drunk that they snuck out of their dorm rooms and wandered to a local rock quarry. They then proceeded to blast the stones with their magic, which caused a cave-in that they tried to fix. They thought they’d restored it perfectly only to wake up to a news report about the miraculous stone structure that had suddenly appeared overnight. Seemed in their altered states, they reasoned an elaborate design was the remedy. It had been incredibly stupid and dangerous, an act Rowena had chewed their ears off for, but evendrunk off their asses, their spells had been at full capacity. She’d never experienced such a lapse in her power, but her head hurt too much to process what that meant. All she knew was the moment her husband stepped into the alley, her magic had begun to heal. By the time they arrived at the mansion, her intoxication had reduced to a hazy buzz.
“A guard will be posted outside your door all night,” Vlad said as he pushed open her bedroom door. “If you need anything, he’ll get it for you.”
“Thank you.”
Vlad grunted and lowered her to the mattress, but Belladonna threw her arms around his neck to keep him from leaving. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, but seeing him charge out of the club to rescue her had sparked a fire in her chest. That’s what she’d expected Gabriel to do. He’d taken to calling her derogatory words instead, but Vlad? He’d unleashed the angel of death and killed four of his own for her. For a witch.
Belladonna lifted her lips to his, but before she could kiss him, he jerked backward. Embarrassment washed over her at his sudden rejection, and tears pricked her eyes. It was painful enough that her fiancé didn’t want her. Now it seemed neither did her husband.
“Not like this,” Vlad said, peeling back the blankets to tuck her into bed. “Not when you’re drunk and unsure of your actions. I only want you when you can give your full consent, when you're desperate and begging for me, and this isn’t that moment. I’m not sure you’ll even remember this come morning.” He brushed her hair off her face as Broomstick and Fang curled up next to her. “Goodnight, little witch.”
“Goodnight,” she whispered, crying into her pillow as the room spun, and she couldn’t be certain, but she thought she heard him apologize as he closed the door.
Belladonna woke up with a loud and self-pitying groan. Had she really tried to kiss Vlad? How drunk had she been?
She sat up slowly, her brain feeling like it was on fire, and she glanced down at her chest. She still wore last night’s dress, and the sight answered her question.
“I feel like someone ran me over with a truck,” she groaned, scratching her cats’ heads as she hyped herself up to get out of bed. Everything hurt, including her eyeballs, and it took her three tries to climb off the mattress. She stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the shower, the steam making her feel semi-human, but no amount of soap… or pumpkin-spiced lattes would revive her. She needed to brew a proper hangover potion, and as much as she hated the idea of having to face Vlad after her actions last night, she desperately needed a cure for this pounding headache.
