Page 80 of Dark Souls

T en years later…

The creak of the cellar door echoed down the dark, depressing corridor, alerting her to my arrival. I heard the scurry of her body and the rattling of her chains against the damp, filthy floor as my boots clipped along the stones. I stopped in front of the last cell, twisting my boots to face her and tilted my head to the side with a fake pout of concern at the sight.

Belladonna sat crumpled in the corner of her disgusting cage, completely unrecognisable to the woman she once was. She didn’t even look human after a decade of intense torture, suffering and starvation. Her once pretty face and healthy figure had now withered into a skeletal, pale sack of skin barely clinging to her bones. Bruises, scars and burns marked her flesh, while infected sores gave off a putrid stench, making her smell even worse than the very walls she had called home for ten long years.

Large clumps of dirt, cobwebs, and blood stuck to her head, matting the hair that hadn’t been burned off. The rags of her clothes swamped her and were covered in so much filth that it was hard to identify what colour they were before. It had been a few weeks since I had last visited and the sight of her became more shocking with each meeting. She’d tried to kill herself many times over the years but I never let that happen. Grandpapi spelled her never to cause herself any fatal harm and the broken look every time she failed to free herself from me was like a song to my dark heart.

“Good morning, Belladonna.” I smiled sweetly at her, crouching down on the balls of my feet to be at her eye level. She hid her face from me, cowering away and trying her best to blend into the stone wall. The iron shackles around her ankles had rusted, creating deep wounds in her flesh where they rubbed her skin down to the bone. They moved with her, clanking across the floor as she tried her best to get further away from me.

“Breakfast.” I threw a dead rat into her cell. She slowly lifted her head, her wild blue eyes darting around the slimy, mould-ridden floors. When they landed on the rat, I saw her pupils dilate as she had an inner battle between starvation and pride. Starvation won out. She scrambled forward, her movement so similar to the rodent she was about to devour, and she seized it between the stumps of her wrists before hurrying back to the corner. She tried to hide the way she bit into its flesh and then gagged, which only made me chuckle.

“I bring you breakfast and you complain?” I questioned with evil wickedness as I lifted one leg over the other. She shook her head. She’d finally learned not to anger me. Not that it made much difference because I normally tortured her regardless. But on the rare occasion, just my presence sparked enough fear to satisfy my blood thirst. Today would not be one of those rare days.

“I saw your daughter yesterday. Evangelia.”

The mention of her daughter’s name made her pause. Lia had never once asked about her parents after that meeting at the palace. She walked out of that room with Hayes and never looked back. She was told they were dead and that was the best thing for her and it was the first time I had mentioned Lia to her mother.

Belladonna’s eerie blue eyes narrowed at me and my nostrils flared. It was always her eyes that did it to me. There was something in them, a spark that still held so much venomous hostility and self-righteousness that grated on me. I had contemplated removing them many times but like they say, eyes are the windows to the soul and I needed to see hers break. She actually thought of herself as a victim. It was almost comical.

When she didn’t respond, mainly because she couldn’t say anything remotely coherent without her tongue, I continued, “She’s doing really well, in case you were wondering. She’s not rich or of high status like you had hoped. She lives in the Romano village in a humble house with her soulmate and two children and works in a local clothes shop. They live a pretty normal life. She gave everything you owned to charity. It was all very inspiring.” Belladonna visibly bristled. “They are happy in love. They married a few years ago, and she’s taken on his last name to cut all ties with you and Mitchell. Imagine that. Not a single legacy. Knowlton or Morton. It won’t matter. Both names will be irrelevant. Completely forgotten by the world.”

Belladonna’s eyes were filled with pain and turmoil, but she swiftly lowered her gaze to the rat in her hands. I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen that look. A look of defeat. Once, when I bought Zoran down here for the first time. Second, I showed her a picture of Luka and me looking blissfully happy on a vacation, proving that he had his humanity back. And third, when I told her that Luka and I had just taken over as the leaders of the Romano Clan. But it still hadn’t quite been enough to truly break her spirit. She was exhausted, terrified and in pain, yes. But now and again, I saw that spark of evil flickering behind those eyes. Still believing, somehow, she had won.

“Do you even care that you have grandchildren you’ll never meet?”

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.”

She threw her hands up in defeat, falling back into her chair and rolling her eyes. “How? How did you guess so quickly?”

I laughed, digging my fork into more of the Sarma because I quite liked her version. It was damn tasty. “I guess I should ask, whose heart am I eating?”

Her gaze locked with mine and she pressed her lips together. I froze. Swallowed. Placed down my fork.

“You finally killed her?” She remained silent but then slowly nodded her head, her fingers tapping nervously against her thighs. I leaned back in my chair and stared down at the Sarma containing my mortal enemy’s heart.

‘Rejoice! The witch is finally dead!’

I‘d lost track of how many times Heathen and I had thought about how this moment might feel. To know that we were still breathing while she wasn’t. That she had failed and the final Knowlton witch was dead in the ground. I’d handed Belladonna’s fate over to Ilaria gladly because I didn’t want her occupying any more space in my brain or my feelings. She was nothing to me. To heal, I had to let go of the hold she had on me and I did. I’d thrived. I’d never been so happy with meaningful relationships, friendships, purpose and love. Ilaria would eventually kill her, I knew that, but I had no idea when she would decide to do it. When she’d think enough is enough.

“Are you mad?” Ilaria asked carefully, her pink eyes searching my face for any reaction because I was offering none. I blinked and looked up at her. “Did I go too dark? Putting her in the Sarma?”

I burst out laughing. I laughed so hard my insides hurt. I couldn’t stop. The thought of Belladonna’s heart mashed up and blended with the mincemeat in the Sarma was just too much. Was it dark? Fuck, yes. But that’s why I loved it. That’s why I loved Ilaria. I grabbed her hand and yanked her off her chair, forcing her to straddle my lap.

“I love you, my princess of darkness.” I chuckled as she ran her fingers over the contours of my face.

‘Ha, see! I knew the names would grow on you,’ Heathen joked in my mind.

I kissed her lips, pulling her together into my body as I deepened the kiss but as soon as I tasted the Sarma on her tongue, I pulled back with realisation.

“You ate her heart!”

She smirked and nodded, her hands wrapped around the nape of my neck and played with that back of my hair. “I did. I’ve been having some cravings.”

“Cravings?” I frowned in confusion. She leaned her back against the table, giving us enough room between our bodies for her to point down at the little white apron tied around her waist. “The second reason we are celebrating is in there.”

With an unsure smile and no idea what to expect, I reached into the small pocket and pulled out a photograph. Except it wasn’t a photograph. It was a scan. My eyes darted up to hers and she had tears in her eyes as she smiled brightly at me with so much love.

“I know we only decided this year to start trying but I guess it only took that first heat with no protection,” she explained as my heart pounded violently in my ribcage and blood rushed to my ears from the shock. “I’m pregnant, Luka.”

‘Holy fucking shit. We are going to be a dad?’

I stared at the scan and the strange little shape in the picture. It didn’t look much like a baby. My eyes flicked back up to hers and then down again at the picture. Up and down. Again and again. I had changed my mind about not wanting children about three years ago, but it was only this year that I found the courage to tell her. After the way the supernatural world had accepted my kind with curiosity rather than fear, I was secure enough to allow myself to hope to have a family of my own one day. I just didn’t think it would happen this quickly.

“Luka.” Ilaria placed her hands on my shoulders. “Breathe.”

As if her words gave me permission, I released a drawn-out exhale through my lips. “Is it…is it okay? It doesn’t look like a baby.”

She smiled widely. “Yes. It’s just too early to look like a proper baby. I am only a few weeks pregnant. But it is our baby, Luka. Our little bean. Are you happy?”

‘Our little bean. Fuck, I love that little bean already. Snap out of it and tell Snow how happy we are!’

Heathen’s pep talk and the nervousness in her voice caused my chest to tighten and forced me out of my shock. My face broke into the biggest smile before I grabbed her face and kissed her like the lifeline she was.

I pressed my forehead against hers and she giggled at my goofy smile. “Yes. Yes, I’m fucking happy, love. Thank you.”

“Well, it took two of us so thank yourself too.”

I shook my head. “No. Thank you. For finally giving me peace. This.” I pressed my hand against her stomach. “Us. This is my definition of peace.”

“And you are mine,” she whispered against my lips, unbuckling my jeans and sliding herself down on my hard cock. I groaned, holding her hips as she tugged my bottom lip between her teeth and lifted herself up and down on my lap.

“Now it’s time to really celebrate, Red.”

Without warning, she sunk her fangs into my neck and drank my blood as she fucked me hard, taking all that I had to offer her.

And she had it all—my heart, mind, body and soul… She’d given me back my life, and I’d spend every second of it loving her for all eternity.