Page 5 of Tryst or Treat (Season’s Readings #3)

T hey parked in an underground garage between endless rows of expensive cars, and fear bubbled in Belladonna’s chest at the realization that Vlad hadn’t blindfolded her on the drive to his home. She knew where they were, a knowledge no witched survived, and panic flooded her veins. She was Rowena’s daughter and heir to the coven. She was the last person the vampire leader would allow to live with this information, and she inhaled a fortifying breath as Vlad slipped out of the car. She wouldn’t surrender without a fight, would not go gently into the darkness. Vlad was centuries older than her, but she was the coven’s future. This vampire would regret ever laying eyes on her.

Vlad stood expectantly outside of the vehicle, waiting for her to crawl out, but Belladonna crossed her arms over her stomach and leaned against the seat.

“Okay then.” Vlad shrugged and lunged for her, capturing her waist and hoisting her out of the car as if she weighed nothing. With powerful grace, he threw her over his shoulder and strode across the garage, completely oblivious to her shouts. She pounded his back and thrashed against his hold, but the man’s grip didn’t so much as budge. He was far stronger than she realized, and he carried her through his expensive home with ease.

Realizing she wasn’t escaping his control, she collapsed against him and took to memorizing the halls. The mansion was elaborately massive, the opulence a far cry from the cozy cottage she grew up in with her parents, and by the time he shoved through an ornate door, she was hopelessly lost.

Vlad carried her across the grand bedroom, the décor too light for his dark demeanor, and he dropped her on the king-sized mattress. Belladonna wasted no time, and the second his hands left her waist, she kicked, her stilettos slamming into his gut. Vlad grunted, stumbling backward over the cream-colored carpet, and she lunged to her feet, fingers already moving. They wove the spells that were more familiar to her than breathing, and when her hands completed the first incantation, she threw the magic at her new husband… but nothing happened.

Vlad burst into laughter as she stared in horror at her useless hands, and he closed the distance between them. “The house is warded,” he said. “Cost me a fortune, but it was worth every penny. Magic cannot be performed within my property lines… and before you go looking, you’ll never find the wards, so you might as well not even try.”

“I… you…” Belladonna sputtered. “Well, I don’t need magic to slay a vampire. I’ve been training since I could walk to kill the likes of you, so if you so much as lay a finger on me, I will end you.”

Vlad burst into another fit of laughter, and she squinted at him in confusion. She’d expected a fight. Expected him to take what she wasn’t willing to give. What she hadn’t expected was to watch the angel of death laugh with genuine amusement. If she wasn’t so furious at him, she might enjoy the sound, appreciating the way his lips curved and his eyes brightened. But she was livid, so all she could fantasize about was punching his perfect mouth.

“I don’t doubt that you could,” Vlad said with a smile. “But there’s no need for threats, wife. I may be ruthless. I may be a tyrant, but I never take a woman without her consent. I have no intentions of touching you.”

Belladonna pinched her eyebrows at her new husband. This man had just forced her to marry him instead of his son, yet he hadn’t even kissed her at their wedding. What was his endgame? What did he want with her? If he truly wanted peace, why not let her marry Gabriel?

“These are your rooms,” he continued, gesturing to the large white bedroom, immense walk-in closet, and luxurious en-suite bathroom, and she suddenly understood why the decor was so bright. This wasn’t where Vlad slept. This was a guest room. “You’ll be safe here. No one will so much as touch a hair on your head, so you’re free to move about as you please. You can sleep here with the assurance that no vampire will harm you and that I won’t touch you until you ask me to.”

“I won’t ask,” Belladonna spat.

“Oh, you will, wife. Mark my words, you will. And when you do… not if… when you do, you’ll beg for it. Then and only then, when you’re dripping wet and desperate for me, will I touch you.”

“Well, I hope you’re prepared to live a celibate existence, husband.” She sneered. “Because I would rather die than beg for anything from you.”

Vlad stepped forward, his looming height forcing her to crane her neck as his chest settled centimeters from hers. “You’ll have to get better at lying, little witch. You forget I can scent your arousal.” He winked and strode from the room without another word, simply ducking out of the way as she launched her shoe at the back of his head.

“You married her!” Gabriel ripped free of Bartholomew’s hold and charged for his father’s desk. “You swoop home from who knows where after years and not only forbid me from getting married but then you steal my fiancé? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I was simply stopping you from doing something stupid,” Vlad said, leaning back in his chair as if he was dealing with a toddler’s tantrum and not an enraged vampire.

“Something stupid?” Gabriel shouted. “I was getting married.”

“To a witch,” Vlad said calmly. “And Rowena’s daughter no less. It was never just a marriage, and if you believe that, you’ve learned nothing from me. Everything you and I do is political. A wedding isn’t simply a union, but a strategic maneuver, and by marrying that witch, you were about to hand Rowena your head on a fucking platter.”

“So, you stop me from marrying her and then you wed the witch yourself?” Gabriel spat. “You stole my bride! And for what? A political move? To spite me? To be a monumental dick? I guess Rowena has your head on a platter now.”

“Careful.” Vlad folded his arms over his chest. “I love you. You are my son, but I would watch your words. Rowena may be powerful, but she’ll never gain the upper hand on me.”

“You love me? Sure, Dad, sure. You love me so much you stole my fiancé.”

“I did, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Your marriage would have been a mistake, and I know you. You weren’t marrying her because you love her. ”

“Yes, I do,” Gabriel said too quickly, and Vlad saw the flicker, the overzealous confirmation lacking genuine conviction. To anyone else, he was telling the truth, but Vlad knew his son. He was lying. Why? He wasn’t sure, but the boy didn’t love the exquisite witch locked away upstairs. If he had, Vlad would’ve forced himself to leave the church. He would’ve returned to Europe and left the perfect woman he now called his wife alone, but Gabriel didn’t love her. He was marrying her for another reason, but for the life of him, Vlad couldn’t figure out why.

“Well, what’s done is done,” Vlad said. “The witch is mine, and when you feel so inclined to be truthful about your reasons, we can revisit this conversation.”

“Whatever.” Gabriel ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. You got what you wanted. You always do, but this changes nothing.” He pounded the desk in frustration and then whirled around to storm out of his father’s office. “Nothing at all,” he muttered under his breath as he slammed the door, and Vlad frowned at the words his son hadn’t intended for him to hear. The phrase was vague, meaning little to him, so why did he feel like it was important?