Page 10 of Bewitched by the Fruit Bat King (The Bewitching Hour #3)

Rabid Vampire

Kane

I watch Willow storm out of B&H's, the door chime barely containing its own amusement at her exit.

Can't blame it—she's a force of nature when she's angry.

The bond pulses with her irritation, and I have to admire how creative her threats against my cars were.

Most people go straight for property damage.

But Willow? She's thinking magical parking tickets and haunted thistles.

I might need to have Atlas update our garage security protocols.

Speaking of my cars, I should probably make sure she's not currently hexing the Aston Martin.

I drop enough cash on the table to cover both meals and then some. The waitress has earned hazard pay after that little magical standoff. Besides, B&H's lunch spread deserves proper appreciation, even if my intended lunch companion bailed halfway through.

The moment I step outside, Atlas's voice comes through my watch. "Sir, we have a situation at the kudzu fields."

My hand freezes on the car door. "Define situation." There's something in Atlas's tone that sets off warning bells.

"It's Marcus, sir. He was fine during the morning shift, but about twenty minutes ago..."

"Blood-rage?" I'm already sliding into the driver's seat.

"Worse. He's cycling between forms. Started with standard fruit bat behavior, then shifted to aggressive vampire state.

He's injured two other workers who tried to help. The calming protocols aren't working. It’s been so long since this has happened that everyone is out of practice. This location has only a hand full of turned vampires for security since it’s not usually needed. "

"Shit." Marcus is one of my managers of this location. Been with us five years. The guy grows the best holy soil-enriched blackberries in the southeast and has a legendary talent for kudzu management. This is spreading too fast.

"Current containment status?" The engine purrs to life as I pull into traffic.

Atlas projects a holographic map onto my windshield, marking security positions in red. "Teams are maintaining a perimeter, but Marcus has already breached two containment barriers. Medical is standing by with blood supplies and sedatives."

"How long until transition started showing physical signs?"

"According to Thompson's report, Marcus complained of a headache around noon. By one, he was showing increased agitation. At one-thirty, he attempted to access the blood storage facility. When denied, he became violent."

Fruit bat vampires don’t get blood-rage. And the timing...

"Atlas, run a check. How many similar incidents have we had at this location?"

"Three reported cases of established fruit bat vampires showing regression symptoms."

The AI pauses, and I can practically hear its processors whirring. "Sir, I'm detecting a pattern. Each incident occurred after you met Miss Willow."

Now that's interesting. And concerning. "Send me the data. And get me Thompson on the line."

Thompson answers on the first ring. "Sir, he's getting worse. Just took out the eastern greenhouse."

I hear a screech in the background, followed by breaking glass. The kudzu fields are only ten minutes away, but at this rate, there might not be much left.

"Keep him contained, but do not engage directly. I'm almost there."

"Yes, sir. But..." Thompson hesitates. "Sir, this is our peak season. We are open to the public. There’s children here still.'"

If my blood could turn still, it would have.

I make a hard right onto the gravel road leading to the fields. A few cars kick up dust as they speed off of the property. Hopefully the evacuations are happening quickly and smoothly.

Even from here, I can see the destruction. The eastern greenhouse's glass panels glitter on the ground like fallen stars, and chunks of twisted metal framework stick out of the kudzu beds like abstract art.

The scent of blood hits me before I even exit the car—metallic and sharp, mixed with the sweeter undertones that mark it as vampire rather than human. Marcus has been busy.

I scan the chaos before me. The kudzu fields stretch out in waves of green, now marred by long gashes where something—someone—has torn through the carefully maintained vines.

The late afternoon sun casts strange shadows through the broken greenhouse panels, creating a maze of light and dark across the destruction.

Members of my security team hold positions at strategic points, their black uniforms stark against the vegetation.

"Status?" I bark, striding toward Thompson who's coordinating from behind an overturned utility vehicle.

"He's moving erratically, sir. One minute he's in the upper fields, the next he's—" A crash interrupts him, followed by an inhuman shriek that sets my teeth on edge. "...doing that."

I roll up my sleeves, tracking the sound. "Any pattern to his movements?"

"He keeps returning to the blood bank storage." Thompson's face is grim. "We've got the human workers evacuated, but..."

Another crash. Closer this time. Through the bond, I feel a sudden spike of... something. Willow? What the hell is she doing anywhere near—

The thought freezes as a scream tears through the air. Not Marcus this time. This scream is distinctly feminine, distinctly familiar, and it hits me like a physical blow. The mate bond flares hot and demanding in my chest, drowning out everything else.

Willow.

I move before the echo of her scream fades, the world blurring around me as I tap into speed that makes even other vampires look slow.

The kudzu whips past, leaves slicing against my skin and healing just as quickly.

I follow the pull of the bond, letting it guide me toward the flower fields that border the kudzu operation.

I smell her magic before I see her—wild herbs and lightning, mixed with the copper tang of blood. Not hers. Please not hers.

The scene crystallizes as I burst through the last row of kudzu.

Marcus has Willow backed against one of the greenhouse walls, but she's not playing victim.

Her hands glow with barely contained power, and the air around her crackles with enough magical energy to make my skin prickle.

She's holding her own, purple sparks of magic forming a barrier between her and Marcus's snapping fangs.

But Marcus isn't himself. His features shift between bat and vampire, unable to settle on either form. His eyes are wrong—completely black, no iris or white visible. Dark veins spread across his skin like ink through water, and his movements are jerky, unnatural.

"Get. Back." Willow's voice is steady despite the situation, each word punctuated by a surge of power that pushes Marcus back a step. But I can see the strain in her shoulders, feel the edge of fear beneath her determination through our bond.

The mate bond roars to protect, to destroy anything threatening her. But the CEO in me, the vampire king who's responsible for every one of his people, recognizes that Marcus is as much victim as aggressor here.

"Marcus." I pitch my voice low, letting centuries of authority fill the word. Both Willow and Marcus jerk toward the sound. "Stand down."

For a moment, Marcus's face clears. Recognition flickers in those too-dark eyes. "Sir? I... something's wrong. I can’t—" His words choke off as another spasm takes him, his spine arching at an impossible angle.

I don't waste the opening. In less than a heartbeat, I'm between him and Willow, one hand fisted in Marcus's shirt while the other pushes her firmly behind me. The bond hums with approval even as she makes an indignant sound.

"I had that handled," she snaps, but her fingers curl into the back of my shirt.

"Clearly." I don't take my eyes off Marcus as he thrashes in my grip. "Want to tell me why you're trespassing in my flower fields?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, is this a bad time to discuss property rights for an open to the public pick your own flower field?" Her sarcasm would be more effective if she wasn't practically plastered against my back. "Maybe we could focus on the rabid vampire first?"

Marcus lunges, fangs snapping inches from my face. The dark veins under his skin pulse, spreading further. Whatever this is, it's getting worse.

"Atlas," I call out, knowing my watch will pick it up. "I need a medical team here. Now. And have them bring a blood bag." I tighten my grip as he thrashes again.

"Already en route, sir," Atlas responds. "Medical ETA two minutes.”

Willow steps out from behind me—of course she does—and raises her hands. Purple light weaves between her fingers. "I can help hold him."

I should tell her to stay back. To let me handle this.

To get somewhere safe because the mate bond is screaming at me to protect her.

But there's something in her stance, in the steady way she meets my eyes, that stops me.

I hold Marcus still, centuries of strength making his thrashing ineffective.

But something's wrong with him—the black veins under his skin pulse darker, spreading faster, and his strength seems to be increasing rather than waning.

"Really, I can help," Willow offers from behind me, her hands already glowing purple.

"I've got him." My voice stays steady despite Marcus's continued thrashing. "Though I appreciate the—"

Marcus's body convulses, his spine arching at an impossible angle.

The sudden shift throws off my grip just enough that when he snaps back, his fangs sink deep into my forearm.

Pain lances up my arm, but it's the wrongness that hits harder. This man is a friend. A calm and patient fruit bat vampire. This shouldn’t be happening.

Before I can readjust my hold, purple light blazes through the air. Marcus goes rigid, his fangs yanked from my flesh by Willow's magic. She has him suspended in a crackling field of energy, his feet dangling inches off the ground.

"Seriously?" She arches an eyebrow at me, maintaining the spell with apparent ease. "You 'had him'?"

I examine the bite on my arm, which is healing significantly slower than it should. "I was handling it."

"Mhmm." Her eyes flick to my injury, concern flickering across her face before she masks it with snark.

"You know, if you wanted someone to bite you, you could have just asked.

I have much better technique than random feral vampires.

Maybe I should bite him too and see if he passes out like you did. "

I nearly choke. "Is that a threat or an offer?"

"That's privileged information," she says primly, but her lips twitch. "Besides, shouldn't we focus on your employee's apparent citrus-induced psychotic break?"

“Your mouth had better not touch another man’s body other than my own. Do you understand?” I ground out.

By the smirk on her face and shrug of her shoulders I can tell that she is completely unimpressed by my demand.

The medical team's footsetps grow closer, and I hear Thompson coordinating containment protocols.

But I can't tear my eyes away from Willow, from the casual display of power as she holds a feral vampire suspended in mid-air, from the way she can flip from genuine concern to flirty banter in the space of a heartbeat.

I am in serious trouble. Because this gorgeous, infuriating witch who just saved me from a rabid vampire and then made a biting joke? Who's currently radiating enough magical energy to make the air taste like ozone while throwing me bedroom eyes?

I'm falling for her. Hard.

Marcus lets out another unholy shriek, but he's not going anywhere in Willow's magical hold. As I focus on the crisis at hand, on the approaching medical team, on all the questions this incident raises about the possible connection to my bond with her, I replay her words in my mind.

Much better technique, huh?

I am so monumentally screwed.