“Vlad, I’m going to come.”
“Not yet, little witch,” he ordered. “You’re not allowed to come, not until I give you permission.”
“Vlad, please.” She writhed against him. “I can’t hold back any longer.”
“Don’t you dare.” He ripped his mouth away from her, but before she could protest his loss, he pushed two fingers inside her. She gasped at the sight of his tattooed hand fucking her, and then he lowered his lips to her thigh. He kissed her softly before meeting her gaze.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asked. “I’ve never drank from a partner. You would be my first.”
“Yes,” she moaned. “I want to be your first.” And she meant it. Pride filled her chest as she watched his fangs descend. She was his wife and the only woman he’d been open to bonding with. She was suddenly happy she’d been celibate for the past year because she wanted this moment to be a pure and unadulterated memory.
“Good fucking girl,” Vlad said as his fangs pierced her skin. He dug deep into her thigh, her blood pumping from her veins as his fingers pumped inside her. The pain stung for a second, and then her magic exploded within her chest. It was an entire body high, her power mixing with his as he drank, and the sight of her husband feeding from her as his fingers fucked her pushed her over the edge.
“Now, wife,” Vlad ordered. “I want to taste your orgasm in your blood. I want you to come while my fingers are deep inside your cunt.”
Belladonna’s climax took her by surprise. She shook asshe came on his hand. He groaned against her bloody leg, his fingers continuing to thrust until she was too sensitive, and then he pulled back to meet her gaze. Blood dripped down her legs to mix with her wetness, and even though she’d just had the best orgasm of her life, it wasn’t enough. She was still desperate for him.
“Fuck,” Vlad whispered, as if he was in shock. “You… your blood… how is this possible?” He stood up, a thin trace of her blood on his jaw, and she leaned forward, kissing it off him. Her magic pulsed out of control as their lips met, as if the wards no longer worked, and she knew. Fate had brought her to this man. There was no other explanation.
“How did I taste?” she asked as he dragged her off the table and spun her around, bending her over. Her hands slapped the wood, and she thrust back against him, grinding her ass against his thick length with desperation. She needed him to shed his clothes, to learn how his skin felt against hers.
“Like heaven and hell.” Vlad grabbed her chin and twisted her neck so he could kiss her as he covered her spine with his still-clothed chest. “Like perfection and power and the only woman I want for the rest of my life. You are mine, Belladonna. Mine for all eternity. My wife, my lover, my little witch.”
“Vlad, please—” she started, but he suddenly lunged away from her, putting too much distance between him and her overheated skin. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Someone’s coming.” The vampire ruler resumed control of her husband, and he grabbed his suit jacket off the chair and wrapped it carefully around her shoulders.
“Sir?” Bartholomew’s voice said as he peeked through the door.
“What?” Vlad angled his body to conceal her.
“It’s bad. We need you.”
“Shit.” Vlad looked at her, and her blissful glow sickened to fear at her husband’s sudden seriousness. “Belladonna, I want you to go upstairs to my bedroom.”
“Okay.” She nodded, scooping her dress up from the floor. He cupped her cheek and kissed her lips softly, and it surprised her he willingly displayed such tenderness for her in front of another vampire.
“Do me a favor,” he said, as he and Bartholomew left the dining room. “Lock yourself inside until I get home.”
Belladonna gathered Broomstick, Fang, and Jinx and ushered them upstairs. She never ventured to this section of the mansion, careful to always avoid Vlad’s room, but his tone had her climbing the stairs two at a time until she reached the upper level. Only one bedroom occupied the top floor, the rest of the space inhabited by a personal gym, library, and office. He never worked up here, at least not since she’d moved in, but it was still invitingly peaceful. If he’d given her permission to enter his room any other night, she would’ve snooped through his private quarters, but her nerves stopped her from deviating from his instructions.
She ushered her cats through the darkened doorway at the end of the hall and fumbled for the light switch. Vlad’s bedroom was both exactly what she predicted and nothing at all like she pictured. Unlike her white and bright room, this massive space was dark and elegant. It had a hint of gothic charm mixed with modern comforts, and while she’d expected a vampire’s bedroom to look like somethingDracula would inhabit, she wasn’t expecting it to be so comfortable. The windows were large and high, offering a picturesque view of the rear gardens that was undoubtedly breathtaking during the day. A black couch sat against one wall, the soft fabric inviting, and the king-size bed had a classy and understated bedframe. She was no fool, though. The mattress blended seamlessly into the space, but it was unquestionably the most expensive item of furniture present.
A large walk-in closet stood next to the en-suite bathroom, but the beauty of the bedroom paled compared to the mirror. Contained by a black ornate frame, a massive mirror hung across from the bed, its size consuming the wall, and Belladonna blushed at the bed’s reflection in the glass. For a moment, she imagined Vlad’s naked and tattooed body fucking her from behind as they both watched her take his cock, but then a flush of rage transformed the image of her face into another woman’s. She realized it was irrational. Vlad was decades if not centuries old, and while her life span would match his, she hadn’t even been born when he seized control of the vampires. His history predated her. He’d had women before her, possibly dozens, including Gabriel’s mother. Had he been with them in this room? On that bed? Had he watched the women who’d come before her in that mirror?
“Good lord, get a grip,” Belladonna shouted at herself as she stormed to his dresser and rummaged through his clothes until she found his tee-shirts. She was still dressed in his jacket, dried blood coating her thigh, and she needed a shower and a fresh outfit. Ignoring the mirror, she jumped into his luxurious shower with its all-glass doors and washed her surprising jealousy away. She wasn’t a prude. Gabriel had refused to sleep with her—a fact she was growing more and more thankful for—but she’d had her share of fun in college. She had a past just like her husband, but she couldn’t stop thejealousy. She hated how badly she longed for Vlad to be hers, and not just legally. She wanted to be the only woman in his mirror, in his bed, in his heart.
After the quick shower, she dressed in his soft shirt, and double-checking that the doors and windows were locked, she climbed into the bed with her cats. The sheets wrapped her in Vlad’s intoxicating scent, and she buried her nose in the pillows. His scent was like inhaling a drug. Her magic pulsed, her leg aching slightly where he drank from her, and if she hadn’t known the wards were blocking her magic, she would’ve sworn her power was healing his bite.
The hours drifted by slowly, and as she relaxed in his bed, she tried to stay awake until he returned. A stack of novels sat on his bedside table, and she made it almost halfway through a crime thriller, but her eyes were unbearably heavy. The house was silent. There was no sign of her husband, and she?—
The sound of running water woke her, and Belladonna stretched, pushing the luxurious sheets off her body. She’d had one of the best sleeps of her life, and based on how high the sun was in the sky, she’d slept late too. Her body felt gloriously rested, but then her brain registered why she was hearing water, and she bolted upright, her peace evaporated.
Belladonna slipped out of bed and walked to the half-open bathroom door. Steam fogged the mirror and glass doors, but she didn’t need sight to know who stood in the shower. She sensed him in her bones, in her magic. Her body thrummed at his presence, and the knowledge that he’d returned lifted the weight from her chest… until she saw the blood.
His clothes from last night sat on the tiles in a crimson heap, and bloody hand prints smudged the glass. Panic overtook her ability to behave rationally, and she lunged across the floor, flinging open the shower door without thinking.
Vlad's towering body came into view, his skin covered with more tattoos than she’d realized, but it wasn’t the artistic ink etched into his flesh or his powerful form that captured her attention. It was the blood. There was so much red, and a strange fear swelled in her chest. A few months ago, his demise would’ve been cause for celebration, but now? Now it filled her with terror. She couldn’t lose her husband. She wouldn’t survive his death.
