“To a witch,” Vlad said calmly. “And Rowena’s daughter no less. It was never just a marriage, and if you believe that, you’ve learned nothing from me. Everything you and I do is political. A wedding isn’t simply a union, but a strategic maneuver, and by marrying that witch, you were about to hand Rowena your head on a fucking platter.”
“So, you stop me from marrying her and then you wed the witch yourself?” Gabriel spat. “You stole my bride! And for what? A political move? To spite me? To be a monumental dick? I guess Rowena has your head on a platter now.”
“Careful.” Vlad folded his arms over his chest. “I love you. You are my son, but I would watch your words. Rowena may be powerful, but she’ll never gain the upper hand on me.”
“You love me? Sure, Dad, sure. You love me so much you stole my fiancé.”
“I did, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Your marriage would have been a mistake, and I know you. You weren’t marrying her because you love her.”
“Yes, I do,” Gabriel said too quickly, and Vlad saw the flicker, the overzealous confirmation lacking genuine conviction. To anyone else, he was telling the truth, but Vlad knew his son. He was lying. Why? He wasn’t sure, but the boy didn’t love the exquisite witch locked away upstairs. If he had, Vlad would’ve forced himself to leave the church. He would’ve returned to Europe and left the perfect woman he now called his wife alone, but Gabriel didn’t love her. He was marrying her for another reason, but for the life of him, Vlad couldn’t figure out why.
“Well, what’s done is done,” Vlad said. “The witch is mine, and when you feel so inclined to be truthful about your reasons, we can revisit this conversation.”
“Whatever.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. You got what you wanted. You always do, but this changes nothing.” He pounded the desk in frustration and then whirled around to storm out of his father’s office. “Nothing at all,” he muttered under his breath as he slammed the door, and Vlad frowned at the words his son hadn’t intended for him to hear. The phrase was vague, meaning little to him, so why did he feel like it was important?
Belladonna stood before her bedroom door for the fifth time that afternoon. She’d tried to remain awake all night, worried that a vampire might break in to attack her magic-less body, but true to Vlad’s promise, she was left alone. Exhaustion won in the end, and she’d fallen into a blissful sleep, a fact she was now livid about. The mattress was supportive, the blankets soft, the air conditioning the perfect temperature. She woke to sunlight filtering through the curtains, and she felt glorious until she remembered the disastrous wedding. Angered by her own comfort, she’d removed her white dress and stepped into the massive shower, annoyed again at how much she enjoyed the hot water and spiced apple soap. It smelled like Halloween, and while the weather was still warm, the scent comforted her witchy senses. Every product in the bathroom, as well as the dozens of clothes hanging in the closet that were miraculously her size, pointed to Vlad having known she would stay here, and she cried when she realized it wasn’t Vlad who’dprepared for her presence. The idyllic room made sudden sense. Gabriel had organized this as their honeymoon suite.
Belladonna dressed in a pair of designer shorts and a cropped tank top and then sat on the bed, refusing to leave. She possessed no desire to see her new husband, and she planned to sit in this gorgeous accommodation for the rest of her life, but as the sun burned a path across the sky, her stomach growled. She attempted to ignore the hunger, her fingers twisting to cast a sustaining spell when she remembered the goddamn wards… which resulted in her throwing a pillow across the room… and then two more for good measure, which was why she currently stood before the door. Vlad clearly had no intentions of feeding her, which meant she had to venture through this monstrosity of a mansion to locate the kitchen. It was midday, the sun at its highest and brightest. If there was ever an hour to explore a vampire infestation, it was now.
Belladonna cracked the door open and scanned the hallway, but when not so much as a shadow shifted, she crept out. She angled for the main staircase, thought better of that obvious route, and retreated further into the house. Historic mansions like this often boasted service staircases, and the odds of running into her husband on the back stairwells seemed significantly lower. It took a few wrong turns to uncover what she was looking for, but her suspicions were correct. The service stairway was deserted, and within fifteen minutes, she’d found two libraries, six bathrooms, the courtyard pool, a completely bare room, a broom closet, the wine cellar, a locked door she imagined led to a dudgeon, and finally the massive kitchen.
The room was empty, but the fridge and pantry were overflowing. For men whose diet required blood, not a single drop was to be found. Belladonna knew vampires ate human food, so she wasn’t sure why she expected gobletsof crimson to be filling the refrigerator instead of expensive meats, cheeses, and vegetables.
“Those shorts fit you well,” a deep voice interrupted the silence, and she yelped, grabbing the closest cucumber out of reflex.
“You going to throw that at me?” Vlad asked, studying the green vegetable with amusement. “First a shoe and now a cucumber. I can’t wait to see what other weapons you find in my house.”
Belladonna glared at him, fantasizing that her eyes could shoot lava to burn the hateful man to ash before she shoved the veggie back into the fridge. Without a word, she pulled eggs, a block of artisanal cheese, and some spinach out before nudging the door shut with her hip. She caught Vlad’s gaze dip to the small shorts hugging her hips, and she wondered if she was fast enough to clobber him with a pan. She hated how he studied her bare legs with longing, but she hated that her heart raced at his appreciation even more.
“Of course, the shorts fit,” she spat as she opened one cabinet door after the next in search of the bowls and spices. Vlad didn’t offer to guide her investigation, and she had no intentions of asking for help, so she amused herself by obnoxiously banging every cabinet shut. “Gabriel brought them here before you stole me from him. Some fucking father you are.” She seized a knife from the butcher block and an onion from the pantry, but Vlad stepped closer, distracting her as she chopped the vegetable, and the blade sliced through the tip of her finger.
“Dammit!” She dropped the knife as lightning-fast movement caught her eyes. She froze at the realization of what she’d done. She’d cut herself in front of a vampire. And not just any vampire. The angel of death.
Vlad captured her hand, and she flinched, readying for him to rip her apart. She possessed no magic within thesewalls. She was defenseless against one of the most powerful men in the world.
“I bought you those shorts.” Vlad emphasized‘I’as he lifted her finger to his mouth, his tattooed skull holding her carefully. “I purchased everything in that room. You were asleep when I returned this morning, so I quietly stocked your closet and bathroom. It’s why I’m pleased you look so lovely in my clothes. I can’t wait to see how flawless you look in the rest of the outfits I chose for you.”
Belladonna inhaled an unsteady breath as Vlad sucked her bleeding finger into his mouth. He licked the blood from her skin, holding her gaze as he tasted her. Her flushed cheeks ignited at the contact, her heart racing uncontrollably, and as he pulled her finger from his lips, she forgot how to breathe. For a long moment, all that existed was the heat pulsing between them, and then Vlad stepped forward until his chest hovered an inch away from hers.
“Be careful, wife,” he said, his voice thick with an emotion she refused to acknowledge. “Blood that sweet in a house full of vampires. You might start a war.”
Vlad disappeared into the shadows, forcing himself to leave his new wife alone. She hated him. His son hated him. Everyone was upset by his actions, and his reckless behavior confused even himself. He needed to stay away from the exquisite creature currently banging every pot and pan he owned. She was making him impulsive and irresponsible, clouding his judgment with her intoxicating scent and fragrant blood. He’d stolen his son’s bride. He’d married a witch. A goddamn witch. Vampires did not live in harmony with coven members, yet her taste consumed his thoughts. He hadn’t meant to lick the blood from her fingers. He’dplanned to flee the kitchen, but the next thing he knew, her finger was in his mouth, her perfect chest heaving as he licked her clean. The wards prevented magic from being cast on his property, yet Belladonna had him under her spell. What was wrong with him? Why had he thrown caution to the wind the second he saw her? Why did his control slip anytime she looked at him? And why did her blood taste better than any he’d drank in his long decades?
Vlad shook his body as if to cast Belladonna’s hold off him. Yes, needed to stay away from his wife before he did something stupid. Before his new obsession got him killed.
Belladonna didn’t see her new husband after their encounter in the kitchen. It had been over a week since he lifted her fingers to his lips, since his tongue made her forget to breathe. She refused to admit it. Absolutely refused, but that single touch to her fingertip from the angel of death set her soul ablaze more than Gabriel’s kisses ever had. She sensed his lips throughout her entire body, her skin growing too tight at the contact, her heart too desperate. It was a dangerous feeling, magic without magic, and as she sat in her room watching the sunset, she knew what she needed to do. She had to escape these walls, to escape her husband. She loved Gabriel. He was sweet and fun and kind. He was a safe sort of handsome, and that was who she belonged with. Not with the vampire named for the Impaler himself. Not the man who made her ache, who made her angry and violent. She needed to disappear, and she’d finally figured out how she would do it.
Belladonna had been watching the guards every day for the past week. She hadn’t seen Vlad, nor had Gabriel come for her, so she was resolved to save herself. Shewould slip through the holes in the vampires’ security, and then she would run to her mother. Rowena would know how to annul this farce of a marriage, and then Belladonna would be free to wed the man she loved. The safe choice who didn’t threaten to destroy her life and sanity with a single caress of his tongue.
Belladonna stood before her window, studying the UV-protected glass that shielded the home and the vampires within it from the scalding sunrays. The technology ensured they could move safely throughout the residence during the daylight hours without having to avoid the sun patches, which put a slight kink in her plan. It left the mansion teaming with guards around the clock, meaning the gardens and lawns were the only unprotected parts of the property. Escaping while it was light was counterintuitive, but if she could just get outside, she’d be free. She could use the remaining sunlight to make her way home, and once she was within coven territory, any attempt to reclaim her would be an act of war. Two weeks locked in this house were two too many. She hadn’t laid eyes on her husband since their encounter in the kitchen, and if she survived this climb, she would never have to behold the angel of death again.
Her initial plan had involved the front door at midday, but after watching a guard step into a patch of sunlight on the floor without collapsing into ash, she realized thewindows were treated. The afternoon was still her wisest opportunity, but the bright hallways were no longer an option, which was why she stood at her window. Once she opened it, the sunspot on her floor would transform from cheerful light to the depths of hell for any vampire who ventured into her room, and she secretly hoped today was the day Vlad searched her out. He was too handsome for his own good; sex and sin and seduction unmatched. A proper burning would serve him right. The devil shouldn’t be permitted to look like a god.
Belladonna inhaled a fortifying breath and shoved open the window. She climbed out into the warm afternoon sun, summer stretching its limbs one last time before it surrendered the earth to autumn’s control, and she cursed Vlad for sequestering her in the tallest point of the mansion. Without magic, a fall from this height could break her legs, and she cursed him again, wishing she could put power into an actual curse instead of simply spewing a string of vulgar words.
It took her ten minutes to reach the ground, and she raced past the pool toward the gardens, knowing she was cutting it close. She’d memorized the guards’ routines, and the vampires undoubtedly had cameras trained on the lawns separating her from the estate wall, but if she stuck to the sunshine, she would be safe. Belladonna darted into the grass, dodging the shade the carefully manicured trees and bushes offered, and she made it to the wall without opposition. A nagging deep in her gut warned her escape had been too easy, that her route had been too unmonitored, but the need to find her mother and Gabriel clouded all rational thought. She couldn’t concentrate on the obvious, not when freedom was beyond that barrier.
Belladonna pulled herself into a tree, thankful for the years of weapons training her mom had insisted on. As heir to the coven’s leader, she was second in power only toRowena, her magic a fearsome sight to behold. Her abilities with brewed potions were also unmatched, but it seemed her mother anticipated a time when not even simple spells could help her. Rowena had taught her daughter to kill vampires with her bare hands, ensuring this tree was no match for her strength.
