Page 19 of Tryst or Treat (Season’s Readings #3)
W hat on earth happened to my house?” Vlad asked as he stood dumbfounded on the main staircase. After their early breakfast, he’d crashed, his exhaustion so severe that not even Belladonna’s intoxicating scent on his pillow kept him up. He’d requested she stay in his room because it was the most secure point of the mansion. He claimed it was for her protection, but he secretly wanted her to stay because of how delicious her fragrance was on his sheets. Climbing into bed every morning with her essence wrapped around him was a beautiful torture, and he wondered if she would remain with him when the threat passed. It would ruin his sanity to sleep beside her, but he would willingly burn in her presence if it meant she never returned to the guest bedroom.
Her breakfast had surprised him this morning, and while he couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten into the blood supply without triggering the alarms, he was thankful she had the foresight to feed him. He was running on empty, and he hadn’t wanted to frighten her with the truth about his absence. The blood she’d warmed from him was a pale comparison to what ran through her veins, but it had been enough to keep him rational. The constant deaths were taking their toll on him; his body pushed to the limit as he confronted every lead, but everything was a dead end. It didn’t matter who he tortured, who he interrogated. He learned nothing save the two rumors Lucian had already warned him about. Something was coming, and his wife was somehow at the center.
However, at the moment, all she was at the center of was a horde of orange.
“It’s almost Halloween.” Belladonna looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I used the laptop in your private office upstairs to order decorations, because I’ll be damned if I have to live in a house that doesn’t decorate. I tried looking through the closets for stuff, but your guards didn’t think you had any decor. Honestly, Vlad, are you even a vampire?”
“You used my laptop?” Vlad froze, that nagging concern slipping back into his mind. Was his beautiful young wife the Trojan Horse meant to topple his empire? In a matter of hours, she’d revealed her ability to both break into his blood supply and his secure devices. Not even his own son had figured those out. “How did you get the password?”
“Easy,” she said, as if this wasn’t a potential security threat. “I’ve seen you log in enough times to figure out which keys you were hitting.”
“I never let you see my hands.” Vlad's emotionless tone was serious, but Belladonna seemed oblivious as she pulled decoration after decoration out of the multitude of boxes.
“I could read it in your movements. Besides, it’s not that big a deal. All I did was order decorations… okay, maybe it’s slightly a big deal because I spent a fortune, but you won’t let me leave this house, and I refuse to let Halloween pass me by without this.” She shoved the cutest cat ornament into his fa ce with a smile. “Come on. You love it. The entire mansion will be festive and spooky and smelling like cinnamon. I’m thinking of creating themes. Some rooms will be cozy and cute, and others will be so terrifying even you’ll be afraid of the dark. Then when the kids trick or treat, I can?—”
“Kids?” Vlad asked, his head suddenly spinning.
“Yeah, don’t you give out candy on Halloween?”
“No.”
“Heathen,” Belladonna gasped.
“I don’t let people onto the property.”
“They aren’t people,” she said. “They are children. Tiny humans dressed in cute costumes who eat candy until they are sick. Surely a big, bad vampire like yourself can survive the frightening prospect of kids ringing the doorbell.”
“Belladonna.” He gripped her wrist, and she gawked up at him, finally registering he was upset.
“I…” she trailed off, her excitement dying, and he felt like an asshole for stealing her joy. “I love Halloween. I love the Jack-o'-lanterns and the ghost stories and the costumes. I love pumpkin-spiced lattes and black cats and how Halloween makes a witch’s magic come alive. It’s like electricity running through our veins, and then I eat candy until I’m sick, but now I’m locked all alone in this house without my friends or my family or my power. I wasn’t trying to make you mad. I just want to decorate. ”
She looked like she was about to cry, and Vlad suddenly didn’t care if she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He’d hurt her, and he swore to kill anyone who hurt his wife.
“You can decorate.” He pulled her into a hug, and she stiffened in surprise. “And you can give candy to the trick-or-treaters. I’ll let my men know, and security will make a plan.”
“Really?” The warmth in her eyes was enough to thaw even his icy heart. “Thank you!” Belladonna flung her arms around his neck before bouncing across the floor to her boxes. For the first time since their wedding, he realized how young she was, and he felt guilty for ripping someone so precious away from the life she loved. He was also annoyed that someone so young had managed what no one had ever accomplished in the past centuries. She made him feel.
“I still need an outfit,” she said, oblivious to his dilemma. “Are you going to dress up? Please say you will. I swear I won’t make you wear an embarrassing costume…” she stared at him with mischief in her eyes. “Actually, I can’t promise that.”
“Little witch,” he warned.
“Okay, okay.” She raised her hands in surrender. “See, this is why only grouchy cats get vampire names, but I promise, only sexy costumes for you.”
“And you,” he blurted.
“Garbage bag it is.” She smiled as she sauntered over to him, wrapping a strand of orange tulle around his neck. “But I’ll tear it in all the right places.” She brushed her lips against his in a barely-there peck before wandering teasingly through her boxes. “Normally Juniper, Hazel, and I plan our outfits together, and we go all out for Halloween. One year we went as those three sister witches from that kids’ movie. It annoyed the hell out of my mother, but I thought it was funny. I guess I’ll have to find an outfit by myself this year.”
“You can use my laptop to call your friends,” Vlad groaned, hearing what he was saying, but unable to stop his words. “But!” He held up his tattooed hand when her eyes brightened. “I have the ability to monitor all calls.”
“So, no plotting your demise, got it,” she smiled, completely oblivious to his concerns that she might be the very one behind just that. He didn’t want to believe it. Not when the young woman before him was so damn cute in her ghost hoodie, fuzzy socks, and bare legs.
“We’ll gossip about you instead, I promise.” She curled her fingers in a spell. “If my magic worked, that spell would bind my promise, but it doesn’t, so hopefully it’s the thought that counts.”
“Have fun, little witch.” Vlad navigated a path through the boxes and cats to where Bartholomew waited for him.
“I will!” she called over her shoulder.
“Sir, is that wise? Letting her call the witches?” Bartholomew eyed him warily.
“Probably not,” Vlad said. “But I didn’t marry her to make her my prisoner. Our marriage is to further the peace.”
Bartholomew nodded, accepting his answer, but bile burned Vlad’s throat at his lie. He hadn’t married her for peace. He’d married her because he wanted her with an unholy desire. The kind of need one only experienced when they found their mate.