Page 12 of Tryst or Treat (Season’s Readings #3)
W here’s my wife?” Vlad stood up, interrupting his colleague mid-sentence. They were approaching the end of their meeting, but his attention had been divided ever since Belladonna had escaped the bathroom and rushed to the bar. She’d obeyed his request and remained in sight, and while his stomach cramped at the vision of her dancing alone and drunk after Gabriel’s insults, he had a business to run. He hadn’t become a god among monsters by ignoring his responsibilities, so he’d resolved to simply monitor her from a distance until his meeting was over, but she’d suddenly disappeared. Not even his predatory senses could locate her.
“Wasn’t she just right…” Bartholomew trailed off as his colleagues shifted to scan the dance floor.
“Belladonna?” Vlad strode toward the bar, shoving people aside as he searched for her. “My wife?” He glared at the bartender, and the man shrank beneath his gaze. He worked in the VIP section every weekend, so he understood exactly who Vlad was. “Where did she go? ”
“She was dancing right there.” The bartender pointed to the last spot Vlad had seen her and froze when he realized he’d lost track of the woman. “I swear she was right there. She’d slammed a few shots, so I was keeping an eye on her, but I had a big group of customers. I looked away for only a few minutes.”
“Was she with anyone?” Vlad growled.
“I… I don’t think so,” the man stuttered. “She was dancing in her own little world.”
Vlad clenched his fists so hard that his bones ached. The crowd pulsed, the late hour beckoning dancers with its thundering music, and it was as if the throng had swallowed Belladonna alive.
“You looking for that brunette?” a woman asked in a sultry voice, and Vlad glanced down to watch as a pretty blonde in a slinky silver dress ran a manicured finger down his chiseled abs. “She was dancing with four young guys and then left with them. I guess she doesn’t appreciate a mature man like yourself, so why don’t you come with me, baby? I’ll make you feel good.”
“Where did they go?” Vlad captured her wrist, stopping her exploration of his body as panic poisoned his chest.
“Probably off to have a good time,” she crooned, oblivious to his fear. “We should do the same. I don’t live far from?—”
“Which way did they go?” Vlad growled, his voice more animal than man, and the woman released a startled squeak.
“That way.” She pointed toward a rear door, and Vlad dropped her arm, cutting through the dancing crowd like a blade through wheat. Intense fear coiled through his limbs as his mind begged for him not to be too late. He couldn’t be too late. He’d promised Belladonna nothing would happen to her, and he knew she was mad about Gabriel. Livid about how brutish he’d been at their wedding, but the witch was no fool. She hadn’t willingly left with four men, and his terror was so strong that he thought he might vomit.
Vlad burst out of the back door, and the second the night air hit him, he smelled it. Fear. Her fear. She was close, and she was scared. He lifted his nose into the soft breeze and inhaled. The intoxicating fragrance of Belladonna’s skin mixed with the scent of four distinct male vampires, and he launched into a run. He pushed his legs faster than he’d ever moved, and an all-consuming rage settled over him when he saw them.
One vampire held Belladonna by the waist, forcing her listless body to remain still and upright as the other three revealed their fangs. Vlad knew she was drunk, but by the way she hung from the stranger’s arms, he knew her lethargy wasn’t alcohol induced. His wife had been drugged, and all traces of Vlad vanished as the angel of death assumed control.
“If you let her go, I’ll kill you quickly,” he said so low it was as if he was born of darkness and malice. “I will sever your heads from your body and end your lives swiftly.”
“Fuck off!” One vampire shouted over his shoulder, clearly unaware of who he was addressing. “This bitch is a witch, and she wandered into our territory. The treaty states we can’t go looking for fights, but I’ll be damned if I let those scum cross into our districts and get away with it.”
“That is not just some witch,” Vlad said. “That is my wife. And you will fucking pay for putting your hands on her.”
“That is my wife.”
Belladonna recognized that voice, and she cried out as its menacing tone echoed through the dark alleyway. “Vlad!” she screamed, her hazy mind focusing on his presence. Her magic latched onto his strength, and her overwhelming intoxication faded slightly. She didn’t think she could cast a spell yet, but her vision cleared enough to see her husband, only it wasn’t her husband standing before her. It was the angel of death. The vampire named for the Impaler. Terror had come to this alley. Terror in the most beautiful form.
“Vlad?” the vampire holding her repeated, and he threw her to the ground so hard, she slapped the wall. Her shoulder instantly bruised, and she cried out, watching Vlad’s image darken with unbridled rage as she hit the pavement.
“Sir, we apologize.” The vampire bowed, prostrating himself before death. “We didn’t realize this was your wife. If we had, we never would have?—”
Those were all the words Vlad allowed him. With the speed and precision of an alpha predator, he lunged forward and seized the vampire who’d been holding her. With unmatched power, his tattooed hand gripped the man’s head and tore it from his body, blood splattering the pavement. Belladonna gasped at the violence as her other three assailants fled for their lives, but Vlad simply turned and grabbed one by the neck. With a single swipe, he ripped the man’s throat out, and then he captured the third’s wrist. He yanked him back, grasped his head, and shoved him into the wall, caving his skull in until it was pulp.
Belladonna screamed as the corpses fell around her, and she scrambled backward over the ground on unstable limbs, watching as the fourth vampire raced for the main street. He was almost out in the open, almost too far from Vlad's reach, but her husband simply bent his powerful legs and jumped. He landed heavily in front of the fleeing assailant, and with eyes as evil as the devil’s himself, he grabbed the vampire with his tattooed hand and yanked him to his mouth. His fangs exploded, and Vlad dug his teeth into the vampire’s throat. The man screamed. And screamed, and screamed, and screamed, but Vlad didn’t stop until he drank his victim dry. Only once the body was nothing but a hollow corpse did he race to Belladonna’s side.
“I didn’t go outside with them,” she sobbed as he scooped her into his arms, blood dripping from his jaw. She didn’t know why that confession captured her focus. She’d just watched the angel of death slaughter four vampires as if it were a walk in the park. Her husband’s sheer display of violence should terrorize her, but as she gripped his suit, all she could think about was telling him she hadn’t left him. She hadn’t wanted to leave him.
“I know, little witch.” Vlad pulled her closer as Bartholomew burst out into the alley. “Don’t worry. You’re safe now, I promise.”
Belladonna collapsed in his embrace and sobbed against his shirt as he held her close. “You came for me.”
“I told you I would, and I do not make idle promises,” he said. “You are my wife. I will always come for you.”