Page 16 of Tryst or Treat (Season’s Readings #3)

B elladonna contorted her fingers, pushing her magic as hard as she could in this warded gym. She still couldn’t believe her actions by the pool, and her emotions were chaotic and confusing as unwelcome thoughts slipped into her brain. A few months ago, she hated Vlad for what he’d done at the church, for taking her choice in her future away, but now she thought she understood his motives. Had he truly stolen her choice, or had he simply been the first to recognize the tug of destiny?

The ideas floating around her mind had become overwhelming, so she’d donned leggings and a sports bra and wandered into Vlad’s personal gym. She liked the open space and the wall of mirrors when she practiced casting. The wards stopped the spells from escaping her body, but she felt it flowing within her again. The pulse of magic in her blood centered her, and the mirrors helped her perfect her movements. Her mother would be proud of how well her hands formed even the most impossible spells, and she wished she’d had these growing up. How skilled would she be if she could actually cast while studying her form from multiple angles?

“Oh god.” Belladonna tripped as Vlad’s face came into view. She hadn’t heard him approach, but based on his relaxed position in the doorway, he’d been watching her for a while.

“I’m just exercising,” she said, unsure how to explain her actions. “I’m not trying to break the wards.”

“I know.” He smiled at her, and it was baffling how such a terrifying and bloodthirsty vampire could have such a beautiful smile. “I don’t mind. I’m confused, but I don’t mind.”

“Confused?” she asked as she grabbed her water bottle.

“The wards prevent you from casting spells, so why practice? Don’t get me wrong, you look fantastic, so by all means continue, but why bother if you can’t actually cast anything?”

Belladonna tried not to blush at his compliment, but she failed miserably. It was one thing to see him weak at the sight of her bare body, but to witness him appreciate her practicing magic had her insides knotting like a schoolgirl with a crush. She took a long drink of her ice water to cool her overheated cheeks, then she crossed the gym until she stood before her husband.

“Being a witch means more than being born with magic.” She captured his tattooed hand, loving how the skull was both beautiful in its masterful design and terrifying in its realism. “You have to cast the spells with your hands.” She contorted his fingers into a simple shape, and he watched her carefully, making her both nervous and excited. “The more powerful the spell, the harder the movements, and I’ve spent my life perfecting these. Just because I can’t release my magic into the world doesn’t mean it’s not still inside me. I feel it flowing in my veins when I practice, and I don’t…” she trailed off, her fist involuntarily tightening around his for em otional support. “I refuse to be helpless like I was at the club. If you hadn’t come for me, I would’ve died. I can’t relax my training because next time, you might not be there.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Vlad said. “And if there is, I’ll be there.”

“But you don’t know that, and I’m the coven’s heir,” Belladonna said. “I should have been able to save myself, but I failed. Those men took me, and I can’t let that happen again.”

“Little witch, before you stress yourself out, I wasn’t completely honest with you,” Vlad said, and she pinched her eyebrows at him. “They didn’t merely drug you. They slipped wards in pill form into your drink. Wards prevent witches from casting spells, but those drugs suppress magic on an internal level. It’s incredibly dangerous, and that you survived the attack without lingering side effects proves how powerful you are.”

“Wards in pill form?” Belladonna ripped her hands from Vlad’s in horror. “That’s the equivalent of forcing a vampire to swallow sunlight. How can you allow that drug to be used?” Just when she started to like her husband, his cruelty reminded her of the savage she’d married.

“I don’t, little witch. I may approve wards in physical spaces, but I don’t condone drugging witches with them,” Vlad said, his expression harsh yet kind. His voice explicitly confirmed he wasn’t the villain she feared he was… at least in this regard, and she almost cried in relief knowing he didn’t support a drug that would torture her from the inside out. “I’ve made many changes to how the vampires conduct themselves during my reign, including outlawing pharmaceutical wards, but my predecessors were monsters,” he continued. “Unfortunately, some still live by their example.”

“I was born after you took control,” Belladonna said, realizing just how much older her husband was. Their age difference didn’t matter in the long run. Witches and vampires were immortal creatures, but it was strange to think that he was leading rebellions while she was in diapers. “I don’t know what life was like under their rule.”

“There’s a reason your mother hates vampires, yet signed the treaty with me. Why she agreed to you marrying my son before I claimed you. Rowena remembers the bloodshed before I seized control. They call me the angel of death because of my tattoo. I live up to the name, but those who preceded me were depraved minds. My violence serves a purpose. Theirs was for sport. I don’t condone drugging women in clubs, and you witnessed my judgment firsthand.”

“So, there was nothing I could’ve done to save myself?” Belladonna asked, feeling marginally better about her failure.

“You could watch your drink closer. Or just share my whiskey shots.” Vlad winked suggestively, and she blushed all over again. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I’m making dinner, and I wanted to ask you to join me.”

“You cook?”

“I’ve been alive a long time. There are many things I can do.”

“Um…” Belladonna tried to summon a reason to turn him down, but nothing came to mind. They’d been talking more frequently, often for extended periods, but those conversations were always the result of her aggravating him. She’d never sought him out under the guise of genuine interaction, but as she searched for an excuse to decline, the realization that she loved the idea of eating dinner with him like an actual couple flooded her being. “Let me shower, and I’ll be right down.”

“Take your time. I need at least another half hour.” Vlad turned to leave and then paused. “Thank you. ”

“Of course.”

“Oh, and have I gone crazy, or is that a new cat?”

“Um…” Belladonna twisted to where Fang and Broomstick lay sunning themselves and was surprised to find that somehow a third black cat had joined her pets. She didn’t know how the animal had found her way into the gym, but she wouldn’t tell Vlad that.

“That’s Jinx,” she said, using the first name that came to mind, and while Vlad obviously saw through her charade, he simply crossed his arms over his muscular chest and strode for the exit.

“I hope this one doesn’t bite.”

“She doesn’t,” Belladonna called after him. “Only the one I named after you does.”

“Oh my god,” Belladonna moaned as the pasta hit her tongue, and Vlad smirked at her response. He knew she loved Italian food, so he picked this specific dish just for her. By her reaction, he’d chosen well.

“Did you make the pasta from scratch?” she asked, twirling the noodles around her fork, and taking a slightly unladylike bite that most would find rude, but he took as high praise. Sauce reddened her lips, and combined with the black dress with a decidedly witchy vibe that she’d worn for their first meal together, she was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He didn’t understand how a woman could be so sweet yet make him so hard, but he thoroughly enjoyed the enigma that was his wife.

“I did.” Vlad bit into his own pasta, watching her wash hers down with a sip of wine. He could tell by her little eye flutter she liked the red he’d selected as well, which brought him pleasure. He’d gone into the cellar and pulled the most expensive bottle he owned down from the shelf. He’d been saving it for a special occasion, and the first time his wife joined him for dinner seemed appropriate.

“Not only can you cook, but you make pasta from scratch? I thought I was a good cook, but this is incredible. Plus, the wine… I want to bathe in it, it’s so delicious.”

Vlad shifted in his seat, picturing Belladonna’s soft skin dripping with blood and wine, and he winced at how painfully hard she made him. He was also annoyed at his reaction. He’d invited her to dinner to learn more about the woman he was currently obsessed with, not fantasize about that moment at the pool. She was beautiful, but appreciating her beauty wasn’t enough. He needed her to share her soul with him.

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you pick up a lot,” he said. “I’ve spent years in Italy.”

“You learned to make pasta in Italy?” Belladonna leaned forward with a dreamy expression as she twirled more noodles around her fork.

“And pizza, and gelato, and tiramisu.”

“I hate you.” She took a bite and then captured her wine glass. “I would love to learn to cook in Italy. I’m so jealous. I’ve never left the country. My mom…” She trailed off as if she suddenly realized who she was speaking to.

“No, please, continue,” Vlad encouraged, topping off her wineglass. He found the alcohol delicious, but she seemed to love it, so he wanted her to have her fill.

“Thank you.” She watched him pour, studying him as if trying to decide if he was being genuine. “My mom never let me travel, and not because she was controlling, but because she understood the power I would hold if her heir was kept a mystery. So, I’ve never done anything as cool as making pizza in Italy. I’m still young, and I’ve had fun over the years, but I hate being hidden away.”

She fell silent, and Vlad berated himself for his part in trapping her. “I’ll take you to Italy,” he blurted without thinking.

“As a vacation or a business trip?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Because we both know how the last work outing ended.”

“A vacation, little witch.” Vlad stood and crossed the dining room to the whiskey decanter. “If you think I’m going to let you moan like that in public without me, you have another thing coming.”

“Moan? Whatever do you mean?” She teased, using a slice of crusty bread to soak up her remaining sauce. Vlad glared at her as he poured himself a drink, but she maintained her clueless demeanor as she finished her meal. She didn’t leave so much as a single drop of his homemade sauce on her plate, and it turned him on to watch her eat his food with appreciation. If she dressed this beautifully and behaved this friendly because of noodles, he would learn to cook every pasta dish known to man.

“That was amazing, thank you,” Belladonna sighed, sipping her wine as she leaned back in the chair. “I hope you realized the can of worms you opened feeding me because now I’ve learned your secret. I can’t return to eating regular food knowing you cook like this.”

“How about we strike a deal? You let me try one of your pumpkin-spiced lattes, and I’ll make pasta whenever you crave it.”

“Oh, you drive a hard bargain.”

“Every vampire in this house has tried it but me.”

“I know.” She winked. “That’s the fun of it.”

Vlad shook his head and emptied the wine bottle into her glass as he settled back in his chair. He genuinely wanted to taste her latte, but he would make her pasta whether or not she let him try it. He enjoyed eating with his wife. He loved that she was opening up to him, and her attention was like a drug. The more he used, the more addicted he became, and suddenly their random interactions weren’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted meals together and date nights and conversations where she wasn’t teasing him… not that he wanted that to stop. Watching her waltz into his office and hop onto his desk was the highlight of his day.

“Would you be willing to make dinner a standing date?” he asked. “You’ve been a stranger in my house long enough. I want to know the wife wearing my ring.”

“Like once a week or every night?” she asked, twisting the stem of her wineglass between her black polished fingertips.

“I couldn’t commit to every night since my position demands much of my time, but we can discuss a frequency you’re comfortable with. This isn’t a demand, but a request.”

“You genuinely want to get to know me?” Surprise colored her features, and he realized that from her point of view, he was the ruthless man who’d stolen her from her life. She wasn’t wrong, but something inside him had awakened. Just looking at her wasn’t enough. He needed to understand her soul.

“No strings attached,” Vlad said. “But I enjoyed this dinner. I’m eager to do it again.”

“Hmmm,” Belladonna grunted thoughtfully.

“What?”

“I’ve come to terms with the fact that you and I are both immortal creatures, so till death do us part will take centuries. I wanted to hate you, but forever is a long time to hate the man you live with. I would prefer we were friends.”

“So, you’ll have dinner with me?”

“Under one condition,” Belladonna said firmly, placing her wineglass down. “I’ll eat with you every night that you’re available if you agree to one thing.”

“Of course.” Every night he was available was more than he’d hoped for.

“My parents. My friends. I want the freedom to call and see them. I cannot live as your wife if you keep me from the people I love, so I would like to invite my family over for dinner.”

“You want Rowena here… in my house?” Vlad leaned back uncomfortably.

“I want my mother here… in our house,” Belladonna corrected. “Your son is welcome in your home. My mom should be welcome in mine.”

“I don’t know.”

“Then we don’t have a deal because I can’t respect someone who keeps me caged. It was one thing when you were just the brute who stole me from my fiancé, but you’re proposing we form a genuine relationship. I won’t sit here and pretend I enjoy the company of a man who refuses to let me see my mom.

“Besides, our marriage is supposed to further the peace. What good is our union if you cannot have dinner with the in-laws? This house has wards for your safety. All I’m asking for is a meal with my parents. Two people…. And pasta and wine. That’s it. Surely you have the decency to allow my mother to remain in my life.”

Vlad took a long sip of whiskey. She had a point. He’d forced her to marry him and cut her off from her old life. She went from being a daughter and a friend to a wife overnight, and in her shoes, he would despise her for locking him away.

But then his mind flickered to Lucian’s words. Something was coming, and his wife’s name was among the threatening whispers. Was this a plot to destroy the vampires? Was allowing Rowena to breach his walls the mistake that would burn his reign to the ground? Or was this simply a young girl in desperate need of her mother?

“One dinner with your parents, that’s it,” he said finally, hoping he didn’t regret this decision. “If your mom doesn’t try to kill me, we can go from there.”

“She won’t, I swear it.” Belladonna’s face lit up, and Vlad decided that even if Rowena killed him, his agreement was worth it for his wife’s smile.