Page 49 of Bitten Vampire (The Bitten Chronicles #2)

Valdarr’s point of view

The ruby hums against my finger as I step from the car into full sun. Heat bites, but the ring drinks it in—old magic, dangerous and worth the risk. I smooth an invisible crease from my charcoal suit and follow the scent of champagne, hairspray, and smug entitlement around the hotel.

I intend to observe only.

Two guards watch the lane, a driver idles three streets away, and I have a quiet plan to extract her if anything goes wrong. I promised myself I would not interfere unless she asked.

Then he corners her .

I feel it in my bones—the way her body angles back, polite retreat rather than fear—yet I know where this leads. He steps in; his hand lands where it has no right to be. I cross the lawn.

“But you’re my girl,” the man whines.

“No, I’m not. I haven’t been your girl for nearly seven months, and if we’re honest, not for years. Melissa is your wife , and unlike you, I believe in commitment, in loyalty. I won’t lower my standards—or my morals—for anyone, least of all you. Move back, now.”

Fred’s voice is fierce, and she means every word. Then her eyes snap to mine—wide, disbelieving.

“I think you’d better listen to the lady and step back before I make you,” I say, moving past him. I’d rehearsed being gentle; I am not gentle now. “Apologies I’m late.” I kiss her cheek. Warm. Human . Sun-warm orange peel and clean skin. Her pulse flickers against my senses.

The groom, her ex, puffs out his chest. “Who the fuck are you—” he begins.

I place myself between them and let the portable ward in my pocket swell: a soft shimmer that dulls curious ears and phones within three paces. A courtesy veil; neither of them notices the magic.

“Her attachment to you is what made you special—you realise that, right?” I keep it civil, barely. “You should have counted your blessings and cherished her. She’s no longer yours. You are embarrassing yourself. Go back to your wife.”

“I’m not gonna take advice from a punk with a lip ring,” he sneers.

I give him the slow, lethal once-over and let him see what looks back. He pales by degrees I might find amusing if he weren’t breathing my sunshine’s air.

“Here’s the advice from a ‘punk with a lip ring’: learn the difference between owning and honouring . You tried the first. I’ll be doing the second.” I vow to cherish the incredible woman he squandered.

His mouth opens, shuts.

Behind me I hear Winifred’s breath tighten.

I lower my voice and lean just enough that only he hears. The ward swallows the words. “If you touch her again, I will take your hands. If you smear her name again, I will take your tongue. If you so much as breathe in her direction, I will take your breath. Nod if you understand.”

He nods.

Good. Fear plants lessons where pride cannot.

I turn to her. “Come, let me walk you to your car.” I take her elbow as though this were a ballroom, not a battlefield of egos. We walk. It is surprisingly difficult not to reach for her hand.

She peers up. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing important,” I reply—true, technically. The important words are for her.

Up close I see the small details I crave: her elegant navy dress, bracelets hiding my mark on her wrist. She is a thousand small braveries bound in one woman; she came for closure and to clear her name like a warrior.

She stares at the sunlight glazing my suit sleeve. “I—I don’t understand how you are here, in daylight, actually standing in the sun.”

“I’m a gifted old vampire,” I answer, lips tugging—truth adjacent.

I lift my hand, stop before I touch her, ask without asking.

She allows it. My thumb grazes her throat.

There. That hummingbird beat. Alive. “What I don’t understand,” I admit, “is why you’re awake and breathing . I can hear your heartbeat.”

It skips.

“I don’t know why I was turned, or how. I’m a vampire at night and… this during the day.” She shrugs. Honest, unflinching. “I have no explanation.”

“I will help you discover what happened to you if you will do me a small favour. Keep your daytime humanity secret. Don’t trust anyone; no one is safe.”

She nods, slips from under my hand, resumes walking.

At the car I take her keys before she can fumble, unlock the door—small courtesies I can’t seem to stop. I open it and step back.

“You’re not going to… take me?” she asks warily.

“No. I won’t take you anywhere you do not wish to go,” I say and mean it. If she wanted the world, I would open it like a door. If she wanted me gone, I would vanish into shadow.

“Why did you come?”

“I’m your clan,” I say simply. “I’m yours. And, if we are honest, I’ve known where you were since the moment you ran from the safe house.”

“You have people watching me?”

“Yes. You’re a member of my clan living in the Human Sector, and we have protocols to follow.” The truth tastes surprisingly good.

Her eyes widen; panic ripples through her scent.

I raise a hand. “Don’t panic. I’m not coming after you, your dog, or your magical house. I’m glad you are somewhere safe.”

She looks as though she might cry and refuses.

“I learnt about the wedding from a background check. I came to ensure you were all right. I hadn’t intended to interfere, but I couldn’t allow his hands on you. You looked frightened.”

She softens. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“Always.”

I return the keys and, weak where she’s concerned, kiss her again. Closer to the corner of her mouth this time. The line between restraint and selfishness frays in my hands when she’s this near.

“Happy birthday. I will be seeing you soon, sunshine.”

She slides into the seat—dazed.

Jay chose to marry on her birthday and had the audacity to invite her. I shall build a memorial to his losses. On this anniversary, year after year, I will claim something else: his assets, his reputation, and whatever remains thereafter. Today I begin with the family business.

I close the door, step back, and watch until she drives away.

Only then do I allow myself the memory of her pulse beneath my thumb and the taste she left on my lips. Worth every mile, every risk, every plan I have yet to make.

The wizard’s house crashes to earth on the very edge of the Magic Sector, landing squarely atop a ley line. Raw power surges through its depleted walls, and the ensuing blast can be seen for miles. When the smoke clears, the house has vanished. In its place lies an unconscious woman.