Page 47 of Bitten Vampire (The Bitten Chronicles #2)

Chapter Forty-Six

Bonus Scene One - The First Delivery

Valdarr’s point of view

The ward shivers a warning, human, alone, heartbeat quick from the jog up the path. Damn it, another delivery. James swore he had cancelled the daytime security’s standing order. I told him no more. Hire an approved chef; Father’s spies are everywhere.

I stand inside the threshold, the house dark at my back. Before the driver can knock, I yank the door open.

“Good afternoon.” Head down, voice warm, professional, polite—the way humans speak when danger lurks on the other side of a door.

Sunlight halos her golden-blonde hair and freckles her cheeks. She is delicate—tiny, in fact—and too busy with the app on her phone to meet my eyes.

I’m irrationally irritated. Approaching any house unwary is dangerous; she will get herself killed. Look up, silly girl. Sunlight licks the boards at my boots.

“Nice of you to turn up. What took you so long?” I snarl.

Takeaway grease, canine, and orange juice masks her natural scent. I draw a deeper breath and?—

Everything in me goes silent—then roars.

The bond slams into me so hard I must brace against the doorframe. Mine. The word detonates through a thousand years of restraint. Mine , every feral instinct whispers. My mate. Mine to guard, mine to cherish… mine to ruin if I’m not careful .

No.

Human.

Fragile.

Wrong life. Wrong time.

“My apologies, sir,” she says, placating. “The restaurant is on the other side of the border. A forty-minute drive. But please don’t worry, the food is under a stasis spell, so it’s still piping hot.”

I school my face to boredom—predatory, unimpressed—anything but the panic battering my chest.

She finally lifts her face.

Not a girl. All woman, and my mate is beautiful . Her heart skips once—exactly once. Pale blue eyes flecked with silver, ringed in deep navy, lock on mine.

I memorise the moment.

I take the bag and spit the first ugly words that will make her go. “No tip.” Cruel. Necessary. No one can know, least of all her.

Her gaze flickers; she squares her shoulders and nods. “Tipping isn’t mandatory, sir. Enjoy your meal.” Calm, still kind.

Sir. Respectful to the brute at the door. “Whatever.” I slam the door on the brightest thing I’ve seen in a century. In my life.

I press my forehead to the wood like a fool until her footsteps fade.

Harrison will have my head. I don’t care. I text her car’s registration. Send our best team to watch the woman. Do not engage. Report only.