Page 33 of Fangs & Freaks
“Let me go,” I demand, though the words come out weak.
“Why would I do that?” she purrs, her lips brushing against my ear. “You called me, remember? You wanted my help. And now, you’ll get it—on my terms.”
I struggle against her, but it’s no use. Her strength is inhuman, and I’m no match for her. “Bellonna, please?—”
“Shh,” she whispers, pressing a finger to my lips. “You’ll thank me later.”
Her eyes glow brighter, and for a moment, I feel like I’m drowning in their depths. My body feels heavy, my mind clouded. And then I hear her voice, soft and teasing, echoing in my mind.You’re mine now, Varys.
My breaths become shallow as I take in more of the room. The walls are draped in crimson velvet, the floor is hardwood. I scramble off the bed, my heart pounding as I glance around.
“Bellonna,” I say, my voice steady despite the knot forming in my throat. “Where are we?”
Chapter Eighteen
Bellonna
“My bedroom.”My tongue glides across my lips as I take in the sight of him.
His eyes flutter as he rapidly scans the room, as if he’s looking for a way to escape. He won’t. And if he was lucky enough to come across an exit, he’d find himself in the boughs of Hell, alone and face to face with the darkest creatures known to man. If given the choice, he’d fare better with them than with me. Lucky for him, I’ve claimed him as mine.
“Your bedroom?” His voice is soft, and I wonder if it’s a statement or a question. I give him the benefit of the doubt and choose the latter as I make my way toward him, cutting the distance that keeps us separated.
“Yes, it’s rather nice, don’t you think?”
“You can’t hold me prisoner here, Bellonna.” He bites back and I can’t help but smile that my sweet, fragile unicorn is attempting to grow a backbone.
“Oh, and why can’t I? You’re here with me. I have the power.” I step over to the wine bar and take down two glasses.
“Warrick and Blackwell will find me. They’ll come for me. While you may be powerful, so are they, and there’s two of them and a whole biker club to back them up.”
I pick up a bottle of red wine, not yet responding to his words. Tilting the bottle gracefully, the dark crimson liquid cascades into the glasses with a soft, melodic glug.
As I pour the second glass, the air fills with the rich, inviting aroma of the wine—a heady mix of ripe berries, a hint of oak, and a whisper of something darker, like damp earth after rain.
“I love your faith in the two fang bangers and their band of walking dead, but they are nothing compared to me. If I so desire, I could end them with a snap of my fingers.” I can’t help but laugh when his eyes go wide. “Besides, you're in a totally different realm, baby. Welcome to my own little slice of Hell.”
Picking up the glass, its weight is familiar and comforting in my hand, cool and smooth against my fingers. I lift the glass to my lips, pausing for a moment to inhale the bouquet. The first sip is both sharp and smooth, a delicate dance of flavors blooming on my tongue. Notes of black cherry and plum mingle with the faintest traces of spice, leaving a velvety warmth as the wine slides down my throat. It lingers, a harmonious blend of sweetness and acidity that makes me close my eyes, savoring the experience. I lower the glass slowly, but the taste stays with me as I open my eyes.
I move over to him, take a seat on the edge of the bed, and hold out his glass of wine. He just looks at it, as if I’m handing him poison. He hesitates, but finally reaches out and takes it from me. I can’t help but laugh when he sniffs the wine.
“You saw me pour it. Mine came from the same bottle. If I’m going to drug you, I wouldn’t drug myself as well. As I told you, Varys, you are now mine. My toy to do with as I please. It can be fun for both of us, or just for me. The choice is totally up to you.”
Varys sits beside me on the bed, angling his head just as the light catches the side of his neck, revealing two small, unmistakable puncture wounds just above his collarbone. The sight sends a jolt of shock through me, my breath catching in my throat before giving way to a rising tide of fury.
He’s been marked. My toy, my unicorn, has been mutilated with a mark by someone other than me.
“What the hell is that?” I snap, my voice sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. I extend my arm, my finger pointing accusingly at his neck, as my eyes narrow into slits.
Varys freezes, instinctively raising a hand to cover the marks on his neck, but it’s too late. I've already seen them. My expression hardens, a mixture of anger and something more—betrayal, perhaps—transforms my expression.
“Who gave those to you?” I demand. I take the wine from him, setting both of our glasses on the nightstand as I knock him backward. I crawl on top of him, straddling his body. “Where did you get them?”
Varys shakes his head, his jaw working as though searching for words that aren’t coming. The silence only pushes my fury further, my hands balling into fists at my sides in an effort to regain control.
“Answer me!” I bark.
The room feels electric, as it charges with the intensity of my demand and Varys’ inability to respond. Each passing second without an explanation only deepens the rift between us, the air heavy with unspoken accusations and a palpable sense of betrayal.
