Page 58 of Fangs & Freaks
I step over to the door, taking one final glance back over my shoulder at the man that’s captivated my heart, as he comforts his sister, before stepping into the hallway. I instinctively reach for Bellonna’s hand, entwining my fingers with hers, pulling her body into mine, lowering my mouth to her ear. “Shall we head downstairs to my dungeon and have some fun, finish what we started earlier? We can take our time, explore each other's bodies.”
“Will there be blood, death, screams?” she asks, her voice purring.
“There can be. If that's what you desire.”
“Let’s find your surly president and make sure he is indeed getting food for Vienna, then we’ll discuss your proposition. Now let’s go.” She winks, smacking her hand on my chest before pulling away from me and we make our way down the hallway, side by side.
The air in the clubhouse is thick with the scent of leather, stale beer, and the faint tang of smoke, but none of it can overpower the aura emanating from Bellonna. Nothing can compare to that. Not now, not ever.
The brothers scatter around the room, those in our direct path step back as we pass, their gazes wary. I’d like to say it was from their fear of me, but I know that’s not it. It’s Bellonna. They can sense it—the raw, undeniable power wafting off her like a storm rolling in. She’s in her Bloody Mary form, her true self hidden from their prying view, her eyes glinting with a predatory edge, her posture exuding dominance.
We’re almost to the other side of the room when Jenna, one of the club's whores, spots me. Her eyes go wide as she stands from the lap of the brother she’s perched on. Her boldness is as grating as her perfume, which hangs in the air like an unwanted guest. With a deliberate sway of her hips, she saunters over, her barely covered breasts on full display, nipples peeking out from beneath the flimsy fabric.
“Blackwell, baby,” she purrs, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness. “I’ve missed you.”
Before I can take a step back to thwart her advances, she presses her body against mine, her hands roaming with shameless confidence. She cups my cock with the palm of her hand and I stiffen—not from pleasure, but from irritation. How dare she even think of touching me, not with my fucking mate standing right beside me.
Mate. Fuck, I never thought I’d love how much that word sounded, or that I’d actually want to have one. Now here I am mated to possibly the second most powerful woman in this realm.
Before I even have a chance to react, to remove the cunt’s hand from my cock, Bellonna’s growl cuts through the air like a knife. “Get off my mate,” she snarls, her voice sharp and dangerous.
Jenna scoffs, her lips curling into a sneer. “Fuck you, bitch. Vamps don’t mate. You’re a fucking no one. I’m the head girl around here and Blackwell’s main woman. I’m going to be his oI’ lady.”
My eyes go wide. What the fuck? Is she fucking delusional?
“Uh, that’s a negative. Ain’t no fuck bunny ever going to be ol’ lady material, and you were never my main fuck,” I pipe in, appalled that any club whore thinks she has that kind of power.
Bellonna’s lips pull back in a feral grin, sharp and cold. “You’re right, I am a bitch. The queen bitch and I’m going to berunning the show around here alongside Blackwell and Warrick. It's time I set some shit straight. Blackwell has a mate, and it’s me.”
Before Jenna can blink, she’s no longer standing in front of me, but airborne. Bellonna doesn’t even move—it’s as if an invisible entity has taken hold of Jenna and slams her into the wall with a sickeningthud. She crumples to the floor, groaning, and Bellonna takes a single step forward, her eyes blazing.
“Next time, I’ll rip your head off,” she warns, her tone chillingly calm. “He’s off-limits. He’s mine.” Bellonna turns to the others, all gazing at the scene before them with jaws dropped. “Does anyone else want to touch what’s mine?”
A chorus of no’s erupts, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips. The ferocity in her voice sends a thrill through me, a possessiveness I didn’t know I needed, but I am so excited to fucking have. My cock likes it too, because it’s fucking rock hard and begging to be buried deep inside Bellonna’s pussy.
She turns to me, her gaze softening just slightly. “Do I need to get a fucking dog collar to put around your neck so everyone knows you’re mine?”
I laugh, a deep, rumbling sound that echoes through the now-silent room. “I’d like that,” I tease, though the thought of wearing a collar marking me as hers does something to me I can’t quite explain.
Fuck if the idea alone isn’t enough to make my cock throb.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Warrick
I stand in the kitchen,seething with frustration while supervising Sugar making Vienna a sandwich, when the sound of a blood-curdling scream pierces the air. My head snaps to attention, my body already moving before my mind can catch up. Without a second thought, I follow the noise, my boots pounding against the floor as I head toward the source of the commotion.
I storm through the clubhouse doors, my senses alert. I slam the door to the main room open, the weight of it reverberating through the clubhouse walls as one of the whores follows me in. The scent of whiskey, blood, and sweat hangs heavy in the air. A sense of tension hovers between the shadows, so thick you could cut it with a knife. The whore’s breath quickens, and I hear her heels click on the floor behind me as she steps into the main room.
“What the hell is going on in here?” I bark. “Sugar.” I turn to the whore who was just in the kitchen with me. “Take that to the girl in Varys’ room,” I order, motioning toward the platter of food she’s carrying.
Sugar nods but doesn’t speak. The silence in the room, though, tells me all I need to know. Everyone's on edge.
The first person I see is Jenna, another whore. She’s glaring at me, a venomous hiss coming from her lips as she rubs the back of her neck like she’s just been attacked.
“That bitch just used some sort of witch voodoo to throw me into the wall!” she whines, her voice high-pitched and indignant. “Lucky I didn’t break something, or there’d be hell to pay!”
I raise an eyebrow, my gaze shifting to Blackwell. His posture is relaxed, but there’s something in his eyes, a flicker of humor, as if he’s witnessed this before.
