Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Varys
The room smells of sweat and a mix of her and me that feels primal and grounding. Bellonna’s long, dark hair fans across the pillows, an unruly halo framing a killer. Her chest rises and falls with her steady breathing, and I can’t help but trace the curve of her shoulder with my fingers, my touch lingering on the scar of my mark. The sight of her, raw and unguarded, knowing she’s mine, fills me with something dangerously close to love.
But there’s more beneath the surface—a restlessness I can’t shake. Warrick and Blackwell flash into my mind, their sharp teeth and toned bodies calling to me. What we’ve shared so far has been intense, but it could easily be chalked up to lust. And yet, it doesn’t feel like that… to me, at least. It’s something more, something I’m not sure how to put into words yet.
Her crimson eyes snap open, locking onto me. There’s a fleeting softness, like the eye of a hurricane before the storm returns. She stretches, cat-like, but there’s nothing gentle in her.
“You were sleeping so soundly,” I say, my voice light but teasing.
“I wasn’t asleep,” she replies.
I raise an eyebrow, leaning back against the stone wall. “What do you mean? You were snoozing, Bellonna. Eyes closed, completely still. If you weren’t asleep, what was that?”
Her lips curve into a faint smirk, but her eyes remain hard, a glint of exhaustion behind their fiery glow. “I was projecting,” she says, her voice dipping lower. “To the fangbangers,” she mutters. “They never give up.”
“They’ve been calling you?”
“Nonstop since you carried me from the bathroom and took me like a wild animal. I just appeared to them in reflection and they were their moody selves.”
“What do they want?”
Her laugh is cold. “You, silly boy.” She cups my face, pushing up and biting my bottom lip. “I thought if I clued the unhinged one into what we were up to, they’d leave us be. But seems him seeing, or rather feeling, us fucking hasn’t swayed their feelings. Jealous little bastards.”
“You told them we were fucking?” I ask. I should be surprised, but I’m not really. I am concerned with how they feel knowing that even though Bloody Mary kidnapped me, I’ve enjoyed my time with her. A lot.
“I told them I was busy. However, the crazy one wouldn’t let up.” Bellonna smirks, her predatory grin wide enough to reveal her sharpened canines. “Let’s just say I let him feel us while we were tangled in the sheets. He was... impressed.” Her laugh is dark and grating.
“I have so many questions, but I don’t even know where to start.”
“Maybe if you insist on me considering sharing you with the bloodsuckers, that could be a fun group activity. No touching, just feeling while you fuck me.” She taps her chin like she’s deep in thought.
“So you’re agreeing to consider sharing?” I ask.
“I’ve never been good at sharing my things, even as a child. For you, though, I’ll consider it. Besides, the vampires are hot, and you did call me out on my shit—which you’ll pay for later. I can’t deny I feel my own pull to them, too.”
“So, now what?”
Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.
“For fuck’s sake!” she growls. “They’re calling…again. Maybe if we go but tell them we’re mated, they’d leave us alone, at least for a little while longer. I’ve not had my fill of you yet,” she muses, her lips curving into a wicked grin.
Her words stir something deep within me, a mix of pride and disbelief. Bellonna—the Bloody Mary, the stuff of nightmares—is mine. And I’m hers. It’s a thought I’m still getting used to.
“I don’t think that will work, but we should see what’s so important,” I say, sitting up fully. “Let’s go.”
Before I can process what’s happening, there’s a rush of wind, and the world shifts. In an instant, we’re no longer in her warm bedroom, naked, but in Warrick’s destroyed office, fully clothed. The furniture lies in splinters, the scent of old leather, liquor, and blood heavy in the air.
Warrick and Blackwell are already there, waiting. Warrick leans against the desk, his broad shoulders and piercing gaze commanding the room. Blackwell sits in a chair, one leg draped over the armrest, looking bored though his eyes gleam with a predatory edge.
“You called?” Bellonna’s voice is syrupy-sweet, but her movements scream violence.
“Varys,” Warrick growls, his voice a deep rumble that seems to vibrate through the room.
Bellonna steps closer, her movements fluid and predatory, chin raised in defiance. Her eyes glint crimson, and a dangerous smile curves her lips. “He’s mine. If you’ve got a problem with that, you can take it up with me.” Her tone is icy, every syllable a challenge.
Blackwell chuckles, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His fangs flash briefly, catching the dim light as he chuckles—a low, bone-chilling sound that raises the hairs on my arms. “Relax, Bellonna. We’re not here to fight over him.”
“Not yet, anyway,” Warrick mutters, his gaze flicking to me like I’m prey trapped in the jaws of a predator. There’s something unnerving in the way he looks at me, as if calculating exactly how much blood I’d spill if he sunk his fangs into my neck.
My gaze flickers between them, trying to piece together their game. Why call us here if it’s not about wanting me back? My eyes wander to the destroyed office—splintered wood, upended furniture, shattered glass. It looks like a battlefield.
“What happened in here?” Bellonna asks, looking around at all the damage.
Warrick straightens, his expression shifting to something graver. “That can wait. You’re here now, and we need to tell you something.”
Bellonna crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Spit it out.”
Blackwell shifts lazily in his chair, one leg still draped over the armrest. He examines his nails, though the faint glow of his irises betrays his sharp focus. “It’s not about you, mistress of sex and death,” he drawls, his tone laced with mocking reverence. “It’s about Varys.”
I stiffen at the mention of my name. A cold knot forms in my stomach. “Me?” I step closer to Bellonna, instinctively reaching for her hand. Her fingers entwine with mine, and though her grip is firm, I can feel the tension radiating off her.
Warrick’s expression falters for a split second—a flicker of something raw and unspoken—but he quickly masks it with his usual stoicism. His nostrils flare slightly, and I swear I catch the briefest flash of his fangs before he speaks again. “The Obsidian Circle has your sister,” he says.
The words hit like a punch to the gut. I drop Bellonna’s hand, fists clenching, and I step forward, my horn emerging and flickering with a faint, shimmering glow as my emotions surge. “We have to save her. What do they want with her?”
“They want us to return you to them. They killed one of our prospects, Lucien. Left a note on his severed head saying we took something of theirs and now they’ve taken two something’s of ours. If you want Vienna back safe, we have to give you back to them.”
Bellonna’s lip curls into a snarl. “She’s not a pure unicorn, so they can’t use her for their sick experiments. Instead, they’ll rent her out to the highest bidder each night in their dungeons.” Her voice is low, venomous. “Fucking bastards.”
The subtle sparkling of my horn intensifies, the glow pulsing with my heartbeat. “How did they know she’s not pure blooded to begin with? How did they know to take me and not her? Or both of us?” I ask, my voice trembling with a mix of confusion and anger.
Warrick crosses his arms, his muscles taut beneath his dark shirt. “I asked your sister that very question the day we brought you here. Vienna told me her mom was a unicorn and her dad was human. But how would they know that without being told—or without a DNA test?” His eyes narrow, suspicion clouding his features as if he can already smell betrayal in the air.
“Good point. They wouldn’t even know to check unless—” Blackwell begins, but I cut him off, unable to keep the truth bottled up any longer.
“She’s not my sister.”
Blackwell’s brow arches, his fanged grin widening slightly, curiosity lighting his gaze. “Who is she then?”
I exhale slowly, the story unraveling in my mind. “She’s my cousin. Her mom was my mother’s sister. I heard she was the sweetest, kindest person you’d ever meet, but she was married to a bastard. One night, after he’d beaten her brutally, she left and met a man. He treated her with kindness, gave her one night of solace. She never thought she’d conceive, especially with a human, but she did. When the baby was born, she couldn’t hide it.”
Bellonna tilts her head, her eyes glowing like molten rubies. “What happened?” Her tone is deceptively calm.
“Her husband went into a blind rage and killed her,” I say, my voice low. “My parents took the baby in and raised her as their own. They placed a spell on her to conceal her humanity, but I’ve noticed it’s been waning.”
“Is he still alive?” Bellonna asks, her voice icy and laced with malice. Her eyes burn brighter, her smile unnerving, as though she’s already imagining all the ways to make him suffer.
I shake my head. “No. My father killed him and buried the body. Everyone thinks he ran off and is in hiding.”
“Good,” she says, her lips curling into a satisfied, almost feral smile. “He deserved worse.”
The room falls silent, the weight of the revelation settling over us. Warrick’s gaze lingers on me, his jaw tight, as though processing the full scope of what I’ve just revealed. Blackwell’s grin fades, his expression unreadable, though his fingers tap rhythmically against the armrest of his chair.
“Where is she?” I demand, my voice hard and unwavering. “Where are they holding her?”
Warrick’s expression hardens, his crimson eyes narrowing. “We don’t know yet. But we have a lead.”