Page 18 of Tryst or Treat (Season’s Readings #3)

B elladonna gathered Broomstick, Fang, and Jinx and ushered them upstairs. She never ventured to this section of the mansion, careful to always avoid Vlad’s room, but his tone had her climbing the stairs two at a time until she reached the upper level. Only one bedroom occupied the top floor, the rest of the space inhabited by a personal gym, library, and office. He never worked up here, at least not since she’d moved in, but it was still invitingly peaceful. If he’d given her permission to enter his room any other night, she would’ve snooped through his private quarters, but her nerves stopped her from deviating from his instructions.

She ushered her cats through the darkened doorway at the end of the hall and fumbled for the light switch. Vlad’s bedroom was both exactly what she predicted and nothing at all like she pictured. Unlike her white and bright room, this massive space was dark and elegant. It had a hint of gothic charm mixed with modern comforts, and while she’d expected a vampire’s bedroom to look like something Dracula would inhabit, she wasn’t expecting it to be so comfortable. The windows were large and high, offering a picturesque view of the rear gardens that was undoubtedly breathtaking during the day. A black couch sat against one wall, the soft fabric inviting, and the king-size bed had a classy and understated bedframe. She was no fool, though. The mattress blended seamlessly into the space, but it was unquestionably the most expensive item of furniture present.

A large walk-in closet stood next to the en-suite bathroom, but the beauty of the bedroom paled compared to the mirror. Contained by a black ornate frame, a massive mirror hung across from the bed, its size consuming the wall, and Belladonna blushed at the bed’s reflection in the glass. For a moment, she imagined Vlad’s naked and tattooed body fucking her from behind as they both watched her take his cock, but then a flush of rage transformed the image of her face into another woman’s. She realized it was irrational. Vlad was decades if not centuries old, and while her life span would match his, she hadn’t even been born when he seized control of the vampires. His history predated her. He’d had women before her, possibly dozens, including Gabriel’s mother. Had he been with them in this room? On that bed? Had he watched the women who’d come before her in that mirror?

“Good lord, get a grip,” Belladonna shouted at herself as she stormed to his dresser and rummaged through his clothes until she found his tee-shirts. She was still dressed in his jacket, dried blood coating her thigh, and she needed a shower and a fresh outfit. Ignoring the mirror, she jumped into his luxurious shower with its all-glass doors and washed her surprising jealousy away. She wasn’t a prude. Gabriel had refused to sleep with her—a fact she was growing more and more thankful for—but she’d had her share of fun in college. She had a past just like her husband, but she couldn’t stop the jealousy. She hated how badly she longed for Vlad to be hers, and not just legally. She wanted to be the only woman in his mirror, in his bed, in his heart.

After the quick shower, she dressed in his soft shirt, and double-checking that the doors and windows were locked, she climbed into the bed with her cats. The sheets wrapped her in Vlad’s intoxicating scent, and she buried her nose in the pillows. His scent was like inhaling a drug. Her magic pulsed, her leg aching slightly where he drank from her, and if she hadn’t known the wards were blocking her magic, she would’ve sworn her power was healing his bite.

The hours drifted by slowly, and as she relaxed in his bed, she tried to stay awake until he returned. A stack of novels sat on his bedside table, and she made it almost halfway through a crime thriller, but her eyes were unbearably heavy. The house was silent. There was no sign of her husband, and she?—

The sound of running water woke her, and Belladonna stretched, pushing the luxurious sheets off her body. She’d had one of the best sleeps of her life, and based on how high the sun was in the sky, she’d slept late too. Her body felt gloriously rested, but then her brain registered why she was hearing water, and she bolted upright, her peace evaporated.

Belladonna slipped out of bed and walked to the half-open bathroom door. Steam fogged the mirror and glass doors, but she didn’t need sight to know who stood in the shower. She sensed him in her bones, in her magic. Her body thrummed at his presence, and the knowledge that he’d returned lifted the weight from her chest… until she saw the blood.

His clothes from last night sat on the tiles in a crimson heap, and bloody hand prints smudged the glass. Panic overtook her ability to behave rationally, and she lunged across the floor, flinging open the shower door without thinking .

Vlad's towering body came into view, his skin covered with more tattoos than she’d realized, but it wasn’t the artistic ink etched into his flesh or his powerful form that captured her attention. It was the blood. There was so much red, and a strange fear swelled in her chest. A few months ago, his demise would’ve been cause for celebration, but now? Now it filled her with terror. She couldn’t lose her husband. She wouldn’t survive his death.

With trembling fingers, Belladonna stripped off her shirt and stepped into the steaming spray. Vlad didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of her intrusion, and her hands flew to his broad back. She used the water with panicked movements to wash his skin as she tried not to cry, but she couldn’t locate the wounds the blood was coming from.

“It’s not mine.” Vlad’s low voice vibrated his ribs beneath her palms, and Belladonna froze. Her haze of alarm vanished at his words, and she forced herself to focus on the fact that the red water was fading to pink. It wasn’t his. He wasn’t hurt, and she collapsed against him in relief. Her cheek pressed into his back, the shower’s heat wrapping them in its embrace, and she lingered against her much taller husband for long and silent moments as her heart rate slowed.

When her rationality returned, Belladonna realized the blood hadn’t come from an accident. It also hadn’t come from one death. Vlad had slaughtered people while she slept, and she froze at the reality of who she clung to. Vlad had earned the title angel of death with his brutality, but she’d never witnessed her husband’s ruthless nature. She’d been drugged when he killed her attackers, but seeing the sheer amount of blood washing down the drain forced her to face the truth. She didn’t truly know the man she currently held onto.

Belladonna slipped her arms around Vlad’s waist, her small hands coming to rest on his chiseled abs. She should leave this shower. She should flee this room and put permanent distance between herself and the vampire named for the Impaler, but instead, she clung to his powerful body. Her words from the night before rang true through her memory. She wasn’t afraid of the angel of death.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“Nothing I wish to tell you.”

His voice felt like a slap as he cut her out, but he must have sensed her hurt because he rested his broad palms over her hands, welding them to his stomach with an almost gentle nature. The intimacy surprised her.

“Something is coming,” he offered instead. “Unrest is brewing, but I can’t find the source. I’m worried last night was only the beginning.”

“Are we in danger?” Belladonna asked, pulling him closer, and her magic sensed his delight at her use of the word ‘we’ .

“I don’t know,” Vlad answered as the water beat down on them. “And that’s what terrifies me because I genuinely don’t know.”

Belladonna didn’t return to her room after that bloody shower. For a week, she slept in Vlad’s bed, and for a week, she slept alone. Each night when the sun dipped below the horizon, she locked herself in his bedroom with her cats, worrying about her husband until he finally found his way back to her in the last dark minutes before dawn. They barely saw each other, the unknown threat fraying him at the edges. Two months ago, his absence would have pleased her, but now the empty house felt haunted. Only the ghost of his scent remained.

“What are you doing up?” Vlad asked as he barged into the kitchen. It was still dark, and at this early hour Belladonna was normally asleep and locked away in his room, but a week of sleeping alone in his sheets had her ready to climb out of her skin.

“You always arrive home right before dawn and then eat,” she answered, spooning the scrambled eggs onto two plates. It wasn’t the best display of her cooking skills, but the eggs were cheesy and the toast buttered. “You go to sleep when I get up, and it’s like I’m married to a ghost, not a vampire.” She set the food on the kitchen table, watching the way his eyes dipped to her bare legs. She’d taken to wearing his shirts to bed, and she could tell by his harsh expression that this was his favorite look of hers.

“Careful, little witch,” Vlad warned as he sat. “It almost sounds like you miss me.”

“Of course, I miss you,” she said, removing a blood serving from the warmer. She’d been in this mansion long enough to learn where Vlad kept his supply and how the vampires preferred to drink it, and judging by the circles under his eyes, he hadn’t consumed human blood since he drank from her thigh.

“It’s boring in this house without someone to aggravate.” She handed him the cup with a wicked grin as she sat in the chair opposite him.

“I’m sure you were a delight as a child.” Vlad smirked and then downed the blood in one gulp. His face contorted slightly at the taste, and Belladonna couldn’t help but wonder if that was her doing. Vampires preferred drinking from a living donor, and by the way he’d practically attacked her on the dining room table, she knew he found her blood intoxicating. It sent a thrill through her to think he was addicted to her, but then a shiver ran down her spine. She was a witch, and witches never willingly let vampires drink from them. It was an act of treason, one that warranted the most brutal punishment. Growing up, she believed she would die before she allowed a vampire to sink his fangs into her flesh, yet she’d begged Vlad to take her. She realized his words were a joke, but she had been a delight to her mother as a child. But now? What would Rowena think of her now? If she discovered what her daughter had done, what her daughter had so thoroughly enjoyed that she wanted it to happen again, would she disown her? Belladonna didn’t want to consider it, but she knew the answer. The coven might forgive her marriage, but they would never forgive her for this.

“I was an absolute angel,” Belladonna said, forcing a fake smile to her lips, and if Vlad noticed her falter, he didn’t let on. “But it’s more fun being the devil in this house.”

“Little witch, there is only one devil in this home, and it’s not you,” Vlad growled softly as he bit into the toast.

“No, you’re right,” she agreed with a wink. “It’s definitely Fang. He’s bit five guards this week alone.”

Vlad burst into laughter, and this time, Belladonna’s smile wasn’t fake. She liked the deep sound. It rumbled through her chest, vibrating her magic, and she wondered how many people had the honor of hearing the angel of death laugh.

“Speak of the devil.” Vlad nodded as the cats sauntered into the room, meowing for their breakfast, and as if he knew he’d been summoned, Fang hissed viciously at him before curling around Belladonna’s ankles.

“Wait…” Vlad paused as he brought his fork to his lips and squinted at his wife’s legs. “My god, now there are four?”

“Oh, yes, Cauldron joined us last night,” Belladonna said. “Another girl, and I think she was abused. I found some scars under her fur, and she was pretty skittish.”

“She doesn’t look skittish.”

“I brewed her a special bowl of milk. She knows she’s safe here with me.”

Vlad shook his head as he dug back into his breakfast. “ So, it’s Broomstick, Fang, Jinx, and Cauldron? How come only one vampire name?”

“I only give the cranky cats vampire names. Seems only appropriate.”

“You’re cruel, wife,” he said, and Belladonna waggled her eyebrows at him. “But all teasing aside, it’s good the cats are here with you when I’m not.”

“Careful, husband,” she said with a sweet smile. “It almost sounds like you care about me.”