Page 7 of Tryst or Treat (Season’s Readings #3)
B elladonna stood before her window, studying the UV-protected glass that shielded the home and the vampires within it from the scalding sunrays. The technology ensured they could move safely throughout the residence during the daylight hours without having to avoid the sun patches, which put a slight kink in her plan. It left the mansion teaming with guards around the clock, meaning the gardens and lawns were the only unprotected parts of the property. Escaping while it was light was counterintuitive, but if she could just get outside, she’d be free. She could use the remaining sunlight to make her way home, and once she was within coven territory, any attempt to reclaim her would be an act of war. Two weeks locked in this house were two too many. She hadn’t laid eyes on her husband since their encounter in the kitchen, and if she survived this climb, she would never have to behold the angel of death again.
Her initial plan had involved the front door at midday, but after watching a guard step into a patch of sunlight on the floor without collapsing into ash, she realized the windows were treated. The afternoon was still her wisest opportunity, but the bright hallways were no longer an option, which was why she stood at her window. Once she opened it, the sunspot on her floor would transform from cheerful light to the depths of hell for any vampire who ventured into her room, and she secretly hoped today was the day Vlad searched her out. He was too handsome for his own good; sex and sin and seduction unmatched. A proper burning would serve him right. The devil shouldn’t be permitted to look like a god.
Belladonna inhaled a fortifying breath and shoved open the window. She climbed out into the warm afternoon sun, summer stretching its limbs one last time before it surrendered the earth to autumn’s control, and she cursed Vlad for sequestering her in the tallest point of the mansion. Without magic, a fall from this height could break her legs, and she cursed him again, wishing she could put power into an actual curse instead of simply spewing a string of vulgar words.
It took her ten minutes to reach the ground, and she raced past the pool toward the gardens, knowing she was cutting it close. She’d memorized the guards’ routines, and the vampires undoubtedly had cameras trained on the lawns separating her from the estate wall, but if she stuck to the sunshine, she would be safe. Belladonna darted into the grass, dodging the shade the carefully manicured trees and bushes offered, and she made it to the wall without opposition. A nagging deep in her gut warned her escape had been too easy, that her route had been too unmonitored, but the need to find her mother and Gabriel clouded all rational thought. She couldn’t concentrate on the obvious, not when freedom was beyond that barrier.
Belladonna pulled herself into a tree, thankful for the years of weapons training her mom had insisted on. As heir to the coven’s leader, she was second in power only to Rowena, her magic a fearsome sight to behold. Her abilities with brewed potions were also unmatched, but it seemed her mother anticipated a time when not even simple spells could help her. Rowena had taught her daughter to kill vampires with her bare hands, ensuring this tree was no match for her strength.
Belladonna hoisted her athletic frame high into the branches and leaped over the wall with graceful speed. She landed hard on the opposite side, her ankle cracking on the pavement, but she didn’t stop. With limping steps, she forced herself to keep moving. Her fingers began to twist and contort, casting silent spells as she walked. For long minutes, nothing happened. Her hands cast in vain, but then, as if a thread had snapped, magic flooded her limbs. She threw a triumphant smirk over her shoulder at the mansion as she wrapped her sore ankle in magic. She’d escaped the wards. Magic flowed through her veins once again, and she eased into a run, confident nothing could stop her now. Her mother would know what to do. They’d had no choice at the church. The vampires had outnumbered them. The one named for the Impaler had stood with his hands locked around hers. Surrender had been her only choice, but now? Now they could make a plan. She would find Gabriel and her mom, and Vlad would answer for his?—
A car pulled before her as she passed under a bridge, cutting off her escape, and her heart slowed as she registered the sleek black vehicle. Only one man drove a car that expensive, and before her fingers could form a spell, her husband stepped out into the shade.
“Going somewhere, little witch?” Vlad asked, striding into her personal space and slipping his tattooed hand into her curled fingers, halting her magic. His hold wasn’t cruel, but his grip was explicitly clear. She wasn’t allowed to leave him, and judging by the cars pulling up behind her, Vlad had known she would try to escape. The ease of her route flooded her memory. He’d let her leave. Seemed his curiosity wished to test how far she would go.
“If you wanted to go somewhere, you should have told me,” Vlad said, guiding her toward his car, and despite the magic flooding her veins, she was outnumbered yet again. She had no choice but to yield. “I have a home gym. You don’t need to run these streets. Besides, it’s dangerous out here.”
“I can take care of myself,” she spat.
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Vlad kissed her knuckles before guiding her to a seat. “But you are Rowena’s heir and my wife. The target on your head grew infinitely larger the moment you put on my ring.”
“Then why give it to me?” she asked, glaring at him with enough venom to damn a lesser man’s soul.
“Because it looks better on you than it does on me.” He winked at her as he started the car. “And I want everyone to know who you belong to.”
“I don’t belong to you.”
“Oh, but you do, little witch, you do. You became mine the second you said ‘I do,’ and I didn’t take that oath lightly.” He pinned her with a meaningful stare as he drove too fast, his eyes belonging to her and not the road. “I took our wedding vows seriously, and I intend to uphold my end of faithfully yours till death do us part. Don’t you?”
Belladonna had the urge to lunge across the center console and add a healthy dose of magic to her slap, but she inexplicably found herself nodding in agreement at the idea of the angel of death remaining faithful to her.
“Excellent.” Vlad’s gaze finally returned to the road. “Oh, and I’ve increased my security,” he added, and Bella’s heart dropped. “Can’t have just anyone wandering around the property.”
Vlad parked in the underground garage and watched with a smirk as his young wife leaped from the car and slammed the door too hard in his face. She was glorious when angry, and he realized he was probably sick in the head, but the witch’s rage turned him on. He liked how determined and brave she was. Willing to wed him to save her mother, willing to defy him in an escape attempt. He liked her more than he should, which was why he’d tightened his security. Belladonna was enraged, assuming her breakout was the reason, but that wasn’t why he increased his home’s protection. The arrogant part of him believed that even if she left him, she would eventually return. Her spirit called to him. The way her blood tasted promised their wedding hadn’t been a mistake. It hadn’t been a reckless decision or a foolish whim. Belladonna was his. Truly and eternally his, which was why he increased the security. He had someone to protect now, and while he couldn’t put a finger on the cause of his concern, the shift in the air warned him to be careful. Not of his witch, though. Of something else, and the additional guards weren’t to lock her in. They were to keep the source of that unknown feeling in his gut out.
Belladonna stood in front of the pantry, staring at the spice rack with disappointment. Vlad kept the kitchen stocked with a vast array of ingredients, the foods she preferred suddenly showing up in a greater abundance, and while the spice rack was adequately diverse, it was nothing compared to the herbs her mother’s kitchen boasted. At home, she could brew any potion she needed from her mother’s stores, but among the vampires, it seemed all she could do was make a delicious dinner.
After her failed escape attempt, Vlad stopped ignoring her. He didn’t go out of his way to be with her, but he didn’t hide either, and Belladonna resolved that if he wouldn’t play the coward and disappear, neither would she. He stood firmly by his word, though, and not a single vampire so much as looked at her with more than a passing glance. The first few days after she climbed over the wall, she’d tried doing the most ridiculous things imaginable to test their commitment to their leader’s commands, but her husband meant what he said. She was safe from his vampires and free to roam the estate as long as she avoided the walls. By the time the week came to a close, all she’d accomplished was embarrassing herself by sliding down banisters, moving the guards’ equipment when they weren’t looking, and eating rapidly melting chocolate ice cream bars with her fingers on the creamiest white couch she’d ever seen.
Belladonna grabbed a garlic bulb down from the braid, hating that the groceries had recently been restocked with everything she liked to cook. It bothered her that Vlad paid attention, that he realized how much she loved pasta and garlic and chocolate. It also made her laugh that a vampire had an entire braid hanging in his kitchen. She knew the myths surrounding garlic, holy water, and churches were invented by vampires to help them hide in plain sight, but their presence in this pantry still amused her, and she wondered if he’d bought it purposely to be humorous.
Belladonna grabbed one of the mini chocolate bars from a jar that magically seemed to refill overnight since she’d moved here and popped the sweet into her mouth. She returned to the cutting board and reached for a knife when familiar features passed by the kitchen door. The vampire’s movements were quick. She only caught sight of him for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for her blood to run cold in her veins.
“Gabriel?” She dropped the knife and raced after the figure. “Gabriel, wait!” She chased after him, but he didn’t so much as slow his pace. “Gabriel!”
She lunged forward and captured his biceps, pulling him forcefully around to face her. Surprise registered on his features at her strength, and she scanned the hallways before shoving him into a small library.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered as she shut the door.
“This is my father’s house,” he said.
“I know. I just assumed he was forcing you to stay away.” She flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tight despite his lack of reciprocation. “I missed you. I’ve been here for almost a month and haven’t seen you since our rehearsal dinner.”
“Yeah, well, you married my father. Did you really expect me to hang around and watch you with him?”
“I haven’t been with him.” Belladonna looked her fiancé… her ex-fiancé in the eyes. “And you act like I had a choice.”
“You’re wearing his ring, not mine… actually that ring is mine, only not the diamond I gave you, but rather, the one meant for the leader of the vampires. When my father dies, that will pass to me, but somehow, you’re wearing it. So, tell me again how you didn’t have a choice? Dad wouldn’t part with that for just anyone, so you must be putting out for the old man.”
“Gabriel!” Belladonna reared back as if he’d slapped her, his words more painful than any blow. “The church was surrounded, and you were nowhere to be found. Vlad’s tattoo is called the angel of death because it’s the last thing his victims see before they die, and it was locked around my wrist. The vampires outnumbered the witches, and my mother was seconds away from being attacked by your father’s most ruthless men. You weren’t there. You left me alone without help.”
“So, you betrayed me and got with my dad?” Gabriel spat. “What? I don’t show up for five minutes, and you decided you would prefer to fuck a more powerful vampire.”
“Gabriel, I told you, I haven’t been with him.” Tears flooded her eyes involuntarily, but she didn’t understand why the man she loved was being so cruel. “I haven’t even kissed him. I wanted to marry you, but he forced me to marry him instead. He was named after the Impaler. He isn’t someone you refuse. What was I supposed to do? Let him kill my family? My coven?”
“It doesn’t matter now, so why bother talking about it? What’s done is done.”
“It is not done. You and I are in love. If anyone can stand up to your father, it’s you,” Belladonna begged. “Take me away from here, please. I’ll go with you right now; we’ll walk out the door and never look back. I’ve barely been married a month, and we haven’t even kissed. My mother will help with the annulment, and then you and I can get married.”
“We could get married?” Gabriel asked incredulously. “You really think I would marry you after this? That I would want my dad’s sloppy seconds?”
“Gabriel, I know you’re angry,” Belladonna felt herself spiraling. This wasn’t how she imagined this conversation going. She’d been convinced that if Gabriel found her, he would throw her over her shoulder and carry her far from this mansion, not insult her with unnecessary names. “I’m angry too, but please don’t be cross with me. I couldn’t let my family or my coven get killed, and without your protection, your dad held all the power in that church. I need your help. I want to be with you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be with you,” her ex spat.
“Don’t say that,” Belladonna started crying harder. “Gabriel, please don’t say that. We love each other. We can face your father together.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Gabriel said, sidestepping her. “Your marriage to him changes nothing, so it’s of no consequence to me.”
“What are you talking about?” She seized his wrist, terrified that if he walked out that door, she would never see him again. “How is it of no consequence? I was your fiancé. You said you loved me. I’m trying to fight for us. Why won’t you fight for me?”
“Because you’re a witch,” Gabriel said, slamming the final nail into their relationship’s coffin. “Did you really think I would start a war with my father over one?” He flung open the door and strode out into the hallway, leaving her to cry alone. “No witch, not even one as hot as you, is worth the trouble.”