Page 10 of The Mafia Bloodline
For the first time since finding her, my rage dulled, replaced by a vow as old as blood itself.
No matter what hunted us next, I would never let her face it alone.
Chapter 5
When I woke, the first thing I felt was the absence of Volken.
The room was drenched in twilight that soft in-between moment before night truly began, and the bed beside me was empty. Cold. But his scent lingered on the sheets: smoke, steel, and something darker that I couldn’t name.
I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, my body still thrumming with the echoes of last night. God, last night.
The memory came in fragments. The heat of his hands. The command in his voice. The way the world had seemed to shatter and reform around us when his fangs had pierced my skin. I should’ve been terrified, but instead, I had felt alive. Too alive. Like the blood in my veins was no longer my own but something ancient and wild, pulsing with him.
My fingers went to my neck, tracing the faint mark there. It didn’t hurt, but it hummed. A pulse that matched my heartbeat and his, even though he wasn’t here.
I should have been running. Any sane woman would’ve been halfway to another country by now. But there was a pull in my chest, deep and unrelenting. Like an invisible thread had tied me to him. I could almost feel him, far away, awake and dangerous.
And, God help me… part of me missed him.
I sat up slowly, my head light, my thoughts tangled. “You don’t even know him,” I whispered to myself. “You don’t know what being with someone like him means.”
But the bond didn’t care about reason. It tugged, gently but constantly, whispering one truth I couldn’t ignore, you’re his now.
Sighing, I pushed back the sheets and stood. My body ached in places that reminded me just how real last night had been. Every muscle hummed, tender and alive, a pulsing reminder of Volken’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d looked at me like I was both worship and war. My legs felt like jelly, and I muttered, “Yeah, Runa, fall for a vampire…great plan.”
I ran a hand through my hair, wincing when my fingers caught in the tangles. My reflection in the ornate mirror across the room didn’t help, I looked like I’d survived a tornado made of sex and confusion. There were faint marks on my collarbone, darker ones trailing down where his mouth had been, and the sight alone sent a shiver through me.
With a soft groan, I tore my eyes away and reached for my clothes. My jeans from yesterday were a lost cause, they were ripped at the knee and smeared with grime from the rooftop. I found one of Volken’s shirts instead, oversized and smelling faintly of him, cedar, smoke, and something darker that shouldn’t have been comforting, but was. Pulling it over my head, I rolled the sleeves up past my elbows, muttering under my breath, “Bonded or not, I’m still my own person. He doesn’t get to dress me by proxy.”
My heart, of course, didn’t agree. It was already thudding faster, like it knew I was about to go find him.
I slipped on the socks I was wearing last night, and made my way to the door. The mansion was quiet in that heavy, velvety way that meant that most of the vampires were most probablystill asleep, the air cool and faintly scented with leather and something metallic beneath.
As I padded down the sweeping staircase, my pulse picked up again. I wasn’t sure if I was looking for Volken because I wanted answers… or because I just wanted to see him.
The mansion was quiet as I stepped into the hall, the walls high and shadowed, lined with oil paintings that looked centuries old. The kind of place you could get lost in, or be hunted in.
I followed the faint hum of voices until I reached the main hall.
The space was massive, two stories high, lit with chandeliers that dripped gold light over polished marble. I froze when I saw them, a woman with dark hair pulled loosely over her shoulder, standing beside a man whose presence made the air seem to still around him.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his eyes were dark and sharp, they flicked toward me with the kind of focus that made my stomach drop. Even before he spoke, I knew this had to be one of Volken’s brothers.
The woman smiled first, soft and warm. “You must be Runa,” she said. “I’m Layla.”
Her voice immediately put me at ease. She didn’t move like a predator; she moved like someone who’d learned to dance with one and survived it.
“Uh… hi,” I said awkwardly, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I guess Volken forgot to mention he lives in a Gothic cathedral.”
Layla laughed, actually laughed, and the tension in my shoulders eased a little. “It does feel like that sometimes,” she said. “You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”
The man beside her tilted his head slightly. “Volken finally found his mate,” he said. His tone wasn’t unfriendly, just measured and controlled.
Layla shot him a look. “Roman.”
He sighed, almost imperceptibly. “What my mate means is… welcome.”
I blinked. Mate.Right. That word again.
