Page 250 of Dark Souls

She bit into the rat again, ripping its flesh with her teeth and chewing, keeping all her attention on it. I stared at her with disgust. I thought that maybe after ten years of torture, the hatred I would have for this woman would ease but it only grew stronger. And I woke up this morning realising something. She had been feeding off Luka’s hatred of her and now she was feeding off mine. I’d made sure she had no contact with him. Instead, she latched her claws into my darkness. She believed she still had some kind of power over our lives if I hated her, as long as I continued this sick and twisted game with her.

“What about Luka’s child?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and carefree. She stopped chewing, frozen on those words. Her eyes narrowed on me as if I was lying. I smiled and placed my hand on my flat stomach. “Would you care about that?”

She shook her head a fraction in disbelief, but I still caught it. I giggled, leaning forward in my chair and pulling out the ultrasound from my back pocket. I held up the images of our little bean for her to see. Her eyes widened, and there it was—the moment I saw her soul crush.

I stood up and waved my hand over the cell lock. The door swung open and she jumped a mile, huddling further into the corner. “Unfortunately for you, you won’t get to meet them. You’ll be dead long before our baby is born because I refuse to bring life into a world you exist in.”

Something in her snapped. Maybe it was her last act of vengeance that powered through her but somehow, she found enough energy to dive at me, attempting to punch me in the stomach with her bony wrist. I caught her before she made contact. My hand wrapped around her throat and threw her up against the wall. Fury manifested inside me like a virus spreading through every cell in my body at her last attempt to hurt Luka, to hurt our baby. My grip on her throat tightened, causing her sunken face to redden as she spluttered saliva out of her mouth. I had to physically hold myself back from snapping her neck because that death would be too quick.

Instead, I slowly sunk my nails into her chest, one at a time, as her mouth hung open on silent screams. I pushed and pushed, inch by inch until my entire hand was inside her chest and wrapped around her heart. The vessels in her eyes burst, causing the blue to be haloed by a red ring.

“I win, Belladonna. I have everything you’ve ever desired. Status. Power. Wealth. Luka. And now I carry his child. The next generation of Demonski Upirs will be safe from the likes of you. With your heart in my fist, do you finally understand? You could never win against me, bitch.”

Without a second thought, I ripped her heart from her chest and let go of her throat. Her fragile body glided down the wall but her eyes remained on me. I smiled as I watched the life drain from them. That spark was gone.

I placed my hand on my stomach while I stared at the heart in my hand with a smile of relief. “Time to make daddy dinner, baby.”

“Love? Where are you?”

I strolled through the ground floor of our private wing in the castle. The day had flown by with Zoran, and I only noticed the time when the sun went down. I never missed dinner with Ilaria. No matter how busy our days were, I made sure we were always together for that meal because it was my favourite time of the day. Normally, the chefs would cook me a delicious meal discreetly disguising organs within it and Ilaria would tell me all about her day while I ate and drank a glass of blood. When I finished, she’d climb onto my lap and drink from me as her own course. And I fucking loved it.

But something was different today. There weren’t any staff in sight except the few Romano soldiers stationed outside the front door. I stopped in the kitchen’s doorway and my mouth dropped open at the hottest thing I’d ever seen. There was my mate, dancing around the kitchen in a sexy maid outfit, fishnet tights and thigh-high boots. She sang along to one of her punk rock bands as she darted around the kitchen, throwing plates and knives into the sink. The alarm on the oven beeped and she bent over to open it, giving me a tempting view of her ass cheeks peeking out from the very short, black frilly skirt. Fuck. Me.

I glanced over my shoulder to check there really was no one around to see her in this because it was for my eyes only and then slammed the kitchen door shut. She spun around when she heard it, holding a tray from the oven.

“Oh my god, you scared me.” She giggled, placing the tray on the side as I strolled up behind her and wrapped my arms around her body. I buried my face into her neck, inhaling her scent and I nipped her skin with my teeth. “You’re just in time. I made dinner.”

“Are you on the menu, by any chance?”

She pressed her ass up against my hardening cock and laughed. “I’m dessert if you are a good boy and eat up all your main.”

I glanced over her shoulder at the food she’d prepared and stood in shock. “You cooked this? And is that Sarma?”

“It’s your favourite, right?” She peered up at me over her shoulder with uncertainty. “I know it won’t be anywhere near as good as your mama’s but I wanted to try to make a traditional Serbian dish for you.”

I twisted her in my arms to face me and she squealed with joy. “It smells and looks amazing. I can’t wait to try it.”

“Good.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on my lips. “Because it has a secret ingredient that I think might be a game-changer.”

I narrowed my eyes at the glimmer of mischief in her pink irises. I could always tell when she was up to something naughty, but normally, it always ended with my dick buried deep inside her, whether as a reward or punishment, so I never minded.

“Sit down, sit down!” she demanded, pushing me back towards the table that she had set up. She’d really gone all out on the decorations too: black and pink candles in silver candelabras, black chromed cutlery with matching plates and a bottle of vodka on ice. I raised my eyebrow as she plated the Sarma and slapped her ass when she poured me a glass of vodka before she sat down beside me.

“What’s the special occasion?” I asked, unable to hide my smile at her infectious excitement.

“I’ll tell you after, just try the sarma and be honest!” She piled some on her own plate even though she had no need for food, but clearly, she wanted to taste her own attempt at traditional Serbian cuisine.

I cut into the minced meat, pickled cabbage, tomato sauce, rice and sauerkraut that was wrapped in cabbage leaves and took a bite. Her knees were practically bouncing against the table, making the vodka in my glass vibrate as I chewed. The blend of sensations, the warmth of nostalgia, tantalised my taste buds. I closed my eyes and groaned. It wasn’t as good as mama’s but it was still bloody delicious.

‘Wait...’Heathen noticed it at the same moment I did. My eyes snapped open wide as I stared at Ilaria’s barely contained happiness. But below her joy was a hint of nerves. Anxiety. She slowly placed her fork in her own mouth, chewing elegantly but holding my gaze.

“Do you like it?” she asked when my expression tightened and my eyebrows furrowed as I continued to chew, double checking that I wasn’t crazy. I nodded, finishing my mouthful and picking up the napkin to wipe my mouth. I placed it down and cocked my head to the side.

“It’s delicious but it’s definitely different to what I am used to.”

“Really?” She asked with pure innocence and an angelic fluttering of her eyelashes. “How so?”

“Well, for starters, it normally doesn’t contain a human heart.”