Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Blackwell
“So that’s it? Everyone’s dead? Doesn’t seem fair.” I pout at Bellonna, letting my lips curve into an exaggerated sulk while my eyes glisten with fake tears. “Really, it’s not fair. You got to do most of the killing.” I stick out my right arm and push my stomach forward, displaying the clean patches on my outfit. “See? I still have spots not stained with Obsidian blood. That’s just not right.”
I dip my head slightly, fighting the urge to laugh as she shakes her head, her striking features shadowed with exasperation. Gorgeous and terrifying—a dangerous combination.
Her focus shifts to Warrick, her voice all business. “Take Vienna to your clubhouse and get her checked out. Make sure they didn’t cause her any harm—nothing permanent. Do it thoroughly, Warrick. For Varys’ sake, head to toe, nothing goes unchecked or tested.”
Vienna’s voice barely rises above a whisper, her arms hugging herself tightly, a fragile attempt to shield her from the carnage in the room. “They didn’t… not yet, anyway. They were saving me, they said.”
Her words are brittle, like the edges of a cracked vase, but there’s a quiet relief in them. Her captors are gone, and they didn’t have a chance to violate her in a way that would leave lasting memories. No one will touch her again—not now that she’s under Bloody Mary’s protection. Only a fool would try, and fools who tangle with Bellonna don’t live long enough to regret it.
“Regardless,” Bellonna continues, “get her checked. You have the blood lab and humans in your club, so I’m going out on a limb and assuming you have doctors at your beck and call as well. Run every test you can think of. Make sure they’re thorough and don’t leave her alone. I don’t want Varys worrying about anything. He’s already suffered enough.”
On that, I agree. My sweet, tortured unicorn has endured lifetimes of pain in his short twenty years, thanks to the Obsidian. But now, my thoughts stray to more... tantalizing thoughts. I can’t stop picturing him pinning me down, his horn piercing my chest—or maybe my ass. Damn. The mix of pain and pleasure has me groaning in anticipation.
“There are,” Warrick grumbles, snapping me back to reality.
I will my cock to calm down. Not the time or place for such thoughts—especially with my woman standing right there. Not that I’d care if she sees my cock, but I don’t want her to misconstrue the situation and think my excitement is for the halfbreed and not her.
“Good.” With a wave of her hand, both Warrick and Vienna vanish into thin air, leaving only the acrid stench of smoke behind. The smell has started to grow on me, oddly enough.
I glance around, suddenly aware it’s just the two of us. I’m not complaining. Did I just score a one-on-one date with the Bachelorette from Hell?
“And me?” I ask, raising a brow as I saunter closer.
Bellonna’s lips twitch into a sly smirk. “While we’ve created plenty of carnage tonight and taken out a good number of lives, the job’s not done. The most important cockroaches remain. They wouldn’t dare show up here unless it was absolutely necessary.”
“But you told Warrick this was everyone.” My head tilts as I study her, searching for cracks in her icy resolve. Did she play us? Save Vienna only to secure Varys’ loyalty and backstab us in some way?
“I said what needed to be said,” she replies, unflinching. “My first priority was saving Vienna for Varys. We did that. My second was taking out as many of the Obsidian filth as possible. We did that too. Together.” Her gaze hardens. “I didn’t lie, but I didn’t tell him everything either. The final targets—the adopted and bloodline of the main family—are still out there. While Warrick babysits, I figured you might like to join me for the last act. Maybe fill those clean patches on your outfit with some beautiful crimson stains.”
“Oh, baby,” I purr, my grin widening. “Talk dirty to me. You know exactly what to say to get me going. Let’s do it. Make with the smoky poof, and let’s paint the town red.”
Bellonna doubles over in laughter, the sound low and rich, like the roll of distant thunder, soothing to my soul. It reminds me of long-ago times as a child curled up in bed, a storm raging just outside my window and heart beating frantically in my chest.
“Smoky poofy thing? Seriously, psycho boy. It’s what we’re calling my power now, my ability to transport not only myself but others through realms. A poofy thing. Seriously cuts down on the awe of what I can do.” She tightens her lips, but I know she’s laughing deep inside. She loves me calling it poofy. I’ll go to my next life believing it.
“Oh, Mistress of Sex and Death, you know it’s a term of endearment.” I toss her a wink as my tongue slides seductively across my lip. All I can think about is fucking her in a pool of blood as dead bodies lie in a pile around us.
“Whatever, psycho fanger. Time to go poofy.” She laughs before casually waving her hand. Smoke envelops me and my stomach churns. Maybe this part will take some getting used to.
A hard floor replaces the air that was just underneath my feet, the smoky remnants cocooning me like a worm transforming into a butterfly dissolve, replaced by the grandeur of a sprawling mansion. The air here is heavy, perfumed with the scent of polished wood and aged leather. Down the hall, raised voices pierce the silence, echoing with fury.
“What do you mean, Calverton fell? How is that possible?!” a man’s voice roars, tinged with disbelief and panic. The words hang in the air, followed by an oppressive pause. Then, louder, more commanding: “Find out and fucking fix it!”
Bellonna grins, predatory and dangerous. Her fingers trail lazily along my back as she moves, guiding me forward, toward the source of the commotion. “Oh, no need to search for me. I’m already here,” she purrs, her sultry voice cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade as we step into the room.
The man turns, his face taut with tension, his eyes dark pits of anger and fear. “You have no power over me,” he snarls, as he stands from his chair, his chest puffed out in some sense of false bravado. Too bad he’s picked the wrong woman to scorn.
“And why is that?” I ask, stepping beside Bellonna.
I stare at him, taking in his polished appearance—his well-fitted suit and the arrogance etched into his features. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, and the realization hits me fast and hard. He’s acting this cocky and brave because he thinks he doesn’t have anything to fear, since he isn’t a direct descendant of the bloodline.
“She knows,” he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. “And anyone she’d care to hurt isn’t here—or isn’t old enough yet. There’s nothing she can do.”
“That much is true,” Bellonna concedes, her smirk widening. “He is right about that, Blackwell.”
She strides further into the room, her power claiming the space. She drops into the plush chair in front of the ornate desk, propping her boots on the polished surface. The gesture is casual, yet it reeks of dominance.
“Take a load off, babe. Have a seat.” With a flick of her wrist, she gestures for me to take the chair beside her.
The man’s jaw tightens as he steps around the desk toward us, clearly intending to assert his false power over us, content in the belief that he is safe. But Bellonna waves her hand with a lazy grace, and he freezes mid-step. His limbs lock unnaturally, his body rigid as though encased in invisible chains.
“Times are changing,” she says, her voice laced with steel. “More than three hundred years ago, I set my vengeance in motion. But it seems your family has forgotten their place, growing far too cocky, too arrogant for my liking. I even let you think you had the upper hand with your loophole of adoption.” She leans forward slightly. “Now it’s time to end it all.”
In a flash, we’re no longer in the office, but in an open field, and my eyes are blown wide. Oh hell, this shit’s about to get good. It’s time to get my killing on.