Page 18 of Fangs & Freaks
I sink onto the edge of the bed, my hands gripping my knees as I try to steady my breathing. Despite the horror of it all, I can’tdeny the pull I feel toward her. It’s magnetic, inescapable, like she’s threaded herself into the very fabric of my being.
The door creaks open behind me, and I whirl, my heart leaping into my throat. Warrick stands in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim hallway light. He looks like he’s been sculpted from the shadows themselves, every angle sharp and cutting.
“Varys,” he says, his voice low, steady, but with an edge I can’t ignore. “What’s going on?”
I grab a blanket and wrap it around myself, trying to cover the mark on my chest. His sharp gaze catches the movement, narrowing. He steps inside, and the door clicks shut behind him. We’ve gotten friendly since I’ve been here. He and Blackwell check on me, making sure Bloody Mary hasn’t appeared or taken me.
“I—” My throat feels dry. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
His brow arches. “Fine? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, but my voice cracks, betraying me.
His gaze sharpens, his movements slow and deliberate as he closes the space between us. His scent—leather, blood, and something darkly sweet—fills the air. It makes me uneasy, but not in the way it should.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he says, his voice softer now. “What’s going on?”
I give up, dropping the blanket to show him the mark. “This.”
Warrick’s eyes widen briefly before narrowing again, his lips pressing into a thin line. He steps closer, so close I can feel the cold radiating off him. His gaze burns like a brand as he examines the symbol on my chest.
“Fuck,” he mutters, the curse like a growl in his throat.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Tell me what it means.”
He doesn’t answer right away, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to reach for the mark but thinks better of it. “It’s a claim,” he finally says, his tone clipped. “Or a warning. Either way, it’s serious.”
I stagger back, the weight of his words hitting me like a blow. “What do I do? How do I make it stop?”
His jaw tightens. “You don’t panic. That’s the first thing. Bloody Mary wants your fear. Don’t give it to her.”
“How do you know this?” The words tumble out before I can stop them, tinged with accusation and desperation.
His gaze snaps to mine, his fangs glinting as he speaks. “Because I’ve been around long enough to know how these things work. She’s not just some bedtime story, Varys. You called her, we stole her job, which means her payment, and she’s pissed.”
I swallow hard, his words doing nothing to calm the panic raging inside me.
The door opens again, and Blackwell saunters in, his expression casual, though his eyes immediately zero in on Warrick’s rigid stance and my panicked state.
“What’s all this?” he asks, his voice smooth but curious.
“Nothing,” Warrick says quickly, his tone sharp enough to cut.
Blackwell’s gaze flicks to me, lingering just a moment too long. There’s a pull between us, like a string stretched taut, but I’m too rattled to focus on it. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to shield the mark, but it’s too late. Blackwell notices the movement, and his grin widens. “Ah. She finally strikes.”
“Now what?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intended.
“Did you see her? Did she do that in person? Can you put in a request next time for her to mark me? Preferably while undressed and with my cock buried deep inside her pussy.”
My breath catches. “It’s not funny. Have you seen her?”
“She’s hot,” he says with a smirk, and Warrick growls low in his throat.
“Not this shit again!” Warrick snaps. “She’shot?”
Blackwell shrugs. “What else is there to say?”
