Page 31 of Bitten Vampire (The Bitten Chronicles #2)

Chapter Thirty

“Is this a joke?” James and I say in unison.

I glance at him, then back at Valdarr, cheeks burning. No one has ever declared anything like this about me, with that level of certainty. It must be a joke. Why would he want me? I am hardly ‘fated mate’ material.

“I don’t understand,” I mumble. “I don’t believe you.”

Valdarr doesn’t blink. His voice is low and steady.

“When I told your ex I was going to cherish you, I meant it.” He draws a breath.

“I intended to take my time—to let you feel safe, wanted, to learn about you and to let you learn me, to court you properly.” He hesitates.

“But, unfortunately… we have run out of time.”

James hurls his cup at the wall. “This is bullshit!” Glass shatters; blood spatters the slate-grey paint.

I flinch .

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Simone murmurs, fingertips resting against her cheek.

James lunges?—

—and vanishes.

Harrison intercepts him mid-stride, lifts him as if he weighs nothing, and pins him to the far wall. Was he going to hurt me? Probably.

Valdarr steps in front of me and growls.

He seems even larger. His shoulders roll forward, muscles tense, and his top lip curls to bare sharp, gleaming fangs. For the first time he looks every inch the vampire.

“You dare attack my mate—after I have claimed her!” he roars.

Harrison whispers something sharp into James’s ear, seizes him by the scruff and drags him out without a word. The others raise their hands, take a collective step back, and file out of the room.

Valdarr’s chest rises and falls in quick, shallow bursts—as if he is hyperventilating, furious.

Yet I am not afraid; I feel fiercely protected.

I slide from behind the table and move towards him. His hand snaps out—not roughly—and captures my wrist in a gentle grip. He lifts it to his face, not to his mouth but to his nose. The sensitive skin tingles as he inhales, slowly, as though my scent is the only thing anchoring him.

His eyes flash violet. I gasp.

He lowers his gaze and breathes again, slower, calmer. The hand that holds mine is careful, even as his nails lengthen into black claws. His thumb strokes my skin in a whisper-light caress meant to soothe.

“My apologies,” he says at last, his voice gravel-rough. “ He will not do that again. No one will ever speak to you with disrespect again.”

“It’s fine,” I manage—though it isn’t. “He is allowed his opinions.”

“It is not fine, sunshine.” He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I feel as though I’m losing my mind. Everybody wants to disrespect and hurt you.” This situation is hurting him. He visibly shrinks before my eyes.

“Not everyone,” I say, keeping James’s name to myself. No need to poke the upset vampire. “The rest of your clan have been kind and welcoming.”

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s happening, my life isn’t usually so dramatic.”

“None of this is your fault.”

He releases my wrist slowly, as if prising himself away.

I tuck my hand against my chest, still feeling the warmth of his touch, the ghost of claws, the memory of breath on my skin.

“Will he be all right?” I ask. I do not want Harrison or Valdarr to pop James’s head off.

“He will live,” Valdarr says. “James is… protective. Paranoid, after a hard life. Usually we humour him, but this time we can’t. He just can’t be near you for a while. It isn’t safe. I’m not safe.”

That’s not exactly reassuring. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make your clan fight. What does ‘fated mate’ even mean?” I ask softly. “How is it possible?”

His expression gentles. “I knew you were my mate the first day I met you.”

“What?” I sit back down with a thud. “When you slammed the door in my face? ”

He smiles. “Strange, isn’t it? I felt the bond lock in place, and I panicked—worried I’d frightened you, terrified I’d never see you again…

and just as terrified that I would. Humans are fragile.

I’d never steal your life or your humanity.

Even if we had tried to be together, you would never have turned—no genetic marker, I checked.

I planned to watch from afar, keep you safe, let you live.

I never wanted this for you. Then, at the station, when I learned what my father had done to you, everything changed. ”

“So you didn’t want me when I was human, but now I’m some human-slash-vampire hybrid, you are interested?”

“I will always want you,” he says firmly.

He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.

“My feelings do not dictate yours. We can take our time. No pressure. If you don’t want this, I will get you, Baylor, and when we find her, House, out of the country, somewhere safe.

You have options, Fred. You are in control; you decide. ”

I exhale. “You are fated to me, but do you even like me? I’m not in your league.”

He moves so fast I barely register it—one moment across the table, the next beside me, cupping my jaw, thumb smoothing my cheek.

“You, Winifred Crowsdale, are perfection. My sunshine in the dark. Don’t speak of yourself like that again.” His voice drops. “I would crawl miles on my belly for a glimpse of those blue eyes.”

Words fail me.

Valdarr leans in and brushes a kiss, an almost achingly tender kiss, against the corner of my mouth.

All I need do is turn my head, yet I freeze .

Men like him do not choose women like me; the moment feels too unreal.

It feels like a lie.

“We will go slowly,” he murmurs. “If you want me, I will move heaven and earth to prove I’m worthy of your time—that includes protecting you from my father.”

He pauses. “So far, I’ve done a dreadful job. My father is not a good man. I have avoided politics for centuries, but now he’s targeted you. If we move too soon, we risk war; if we wait and build support among the other clans, we stand a chance.”

I have no words, so I stay silent.

“I have spoken with the shifters,” he continues. “You impressed the Alpha’s mate; she wants to help. But you are an unregistered turning, and there’s the Clan Nocturna mess. First, we must face the Council. If we survive a public trial, we might have a chance.”

“We?”

“Sunshine,” he says softly, “I know you don’t believe me. To you, I’m just a vampire who’s barged into your life with a homicidal father and a pile of problems.” His voice falters, then steadies. “I know it is sudden, and you don’t feel the bond—you weren’t born a vampire. But I don’t care.”

He kisses the tip of my nose.

“I do not care if it’s one-sided. I have enough love for both of us, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

His eyes hold mine, steady and raw.

“So when I say we will survive the trial, I mean it. I do not want to live in a world without you. ”

I stare at him with disbelief. Not because I doubt everything—well, perhaps a little—but because no one has ever said anything like this to me.

I have never been anyone’s first choice.

He says he doesn’t mind if it’s one-sided, that he has enough love for both of us. Somehow, that makes it worse. It’s too much—too kind, too certain—and I’m not used to people being certain about me.

I don’t know how to stand in the light of someone’s love without squinting, without bracing for it to turn or disappear.

For it not to hurt.

He wants to make me happy, to wait, to try—and something tired, old, and frightened inside me wants to cry at the thought. I’ve lived too long where love arrived with conditions, came quietly, left loudly, and only after I shrank myself small enough to be tolerated.

I do not know how to accept what he is offering.

Not yet. Perhaps not ever. But the thing that scares me most is that part of me wants to. Wants to try. Wants to believe him. Wants to be his. I have no idea what to do with that.

I pull away and clear my throat, though it emerges as a squeak. My hands fuss with the hem of my sleeve. “Well,” I say after a beat too long, “that’s… a lot.”

Smooth, Fred. Very smooth.

“I mean, most men buy you dinner or say you have nice boobs, not declare eternal devotion and a shared survival pact.”

I risk a glance. He hasn’t moved, watching me as though I’m the sun and he hasn’t seen daylight in years .

“Look, I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the sentiment. I’m just… I’m not very good at this. Whatever this is.” I gesture between us. “And, honestly, I’m still processing the whole trial-slash-potential-death thing, never mind the soulmate situation.”

A breath, then I quietly add, “But thank you. For saying it, for meaning it.”

I can’t give him more than that. Not now.

But he knows it isn’t a no.

Valdarr smiles.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs, “if I wanted declarations in return, I wouldn’t have offered mine first.” He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Personally, I think that was rather romantic—very poetic. Survival pacts are terribly in at the moment.”

I huff a laugh before I can stop myself.

“And for the record,” he adds, violet eyes dancing, “I do like your boobs, but I thought I should lead with the undying devotion.”

I shake my head, yet I’m smiling now.

My smile fades. “Where will this public trial be?”

“The Hall of Silence.”

“Oh, James will love that,” I mutter, swallowing. I take another sip of blood and dab my lips. “Very well, let us deal with that first, then your father. I shall do what I can to help.”

“It will be dangerous, Fred.”

“Then I will try to remain alive and useful.”

“I will protect you with my life,” he says. “So will the clan.”

“Even James?” I arch a brow. “When do we go? ”

“Tomorrow night.”

“So soon? Anything I should read? Prepare?”

“No. If you sound rehearsed, they will notice. Just be yourself.”

I nod. “All right.” Great. “I want to help,” I say, mustering courage. “Perhaps I could attempt a vision with your help?”

“Very well. As long as you are safe, we can try.”

“Yes, let’s try.”

We return to my suite—my phone is there, anyway—and I settle on the sofa. Valdarr hovers until I pat the cushion beside me.

“Come on,” I say. “Sit.”

He does, and I fiddle with my phone. “This will look odd,” I warn, “but I need to watch reels.”

“Watching videos sends you into a trance?” He sounds surprised.

“I do not know why it works, but it may take a while.”

“In that case, get comfortable.”

Thirty minutes pass—nothing. I huff in frustration.

He pats his lap. “Lie here.”

Placing a cushion across his thighs, he guides me down until my head rests on it. My cheeks burn. He strokes my hair, rhythmic, soothing, exactly as House once did. With his other hand he lifts mine, tilting the phone towards my face. I take the hint and resume scrolling.

From the corner of my eye, I see Baylor belly-crawl closer. Valdarr’s free hand disappears into his fur. I grin and concentrate.

His fingers in my hair, the mindless flick of videos—together they work.

Just before the vision takes me, I do something new: I focus. Rather than begging the universe for anything, I fix on Valdarr and tomorrow night, clinging to one sharp command— protect him .

Astonishingly, it works.

I am outside the house. Three cars wait while the clan prepares to leave. Seeing vision me is jarring—I look nothing like the middle-aged human I once was. I force my attention to Valdarr.

Everyone climbs into the cars. I remain behind, unable to follow. I try not to think of our destination, instead, I focus on the danger ahead.

The vision wavers, reforms at a junction. Wow, that’s a weird sensation. Our car enters the crossroads, and another vehicle hurtles from the opposite side and smashes into us. Through shattered glass, I see the moment of impact—Valdarr folds himself around me, shielding me.

The vision snaps back. I am ejected, gasping.

He must have… he must have died.

For me.

Are you all right?” Valdarr asks.

No . But I drag in two breaths and croak, “Yes. How long was I out?”

“Around forty seconds.”

Forty seconds? The vision had felt more like an hour. Vision time clearly doesn’t match real time. I could spend hours—days even—inside a vision, and only moments might pass in the real world.

I remind myself I have never attempted this as a vampire. Perhaps the vampire side of me is stronger, sharper and better equipped for psychic work. Maybe. I don’t know. I only know I must cling to what I learn and pray it will be enough.

“I need to try again.”

Determination pulls me under. Vision me is alert: she urges the driver to divert before the crash site, and the car takes a different route.

That is when it strikes me— how perilous this meddling might be. Vision me now knows what I know. I have altered the future.

A spell slams into the car, killing everyone inside. I am ripped away.

I go back in.

I ignore the vehicles and hop through moments like turning pages, checking every turn, every street, hunting the safest path.

Fear sharpens my memory.

Again. And again. Close calls. Ambushes. More spells.

I keep going.

At last—after several failures and one narrow escape—we reach the Council chambers unscathed .

We step inside?—

—and that is when the true ordeal begins.