Chapter 34
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.
“She touched me,” Blackwell mutters, his expression pure amusement. “I’m not responsible for how my mate reacts to another female fondling me. She’s very territorial.”
Mate? Fuck me. Another one? I run a hand over my hair, trying to stifle the frustration building inside me. Everyone’s mating but me.
“Jenna, go get yourself together. Don’t touch another woman’s mate.” Jenna huffs as she brushes off her way too short skirt and storms from the room.
Now that she’s dealt with, I can remind Blackwell about the rules of our people. “Vampires don’t mate,” I tell him loudly, my voice echoing in the space, harsh and frustrated.
Blackwell shrugs, unfazed. “This one does. I ain’t your average vampire. I’m special.” He grins, almost smug. “I bet if you play nicely, you can be her mate, too.”
The words hit me like a sucker punch. My mind races, my thoughts spiraling. Why the hell does everyone else get to have someone? Varys has Bellonna, Blackwell apparently also has Bellonna, and here I am, stuck in the endless void of centuries of loneliness. I’ve been alive for one hundred and seventy one years, yet it feels like I’ve been missing something vital— someone who could fill the space in my soul that’s been empty for far too long. But I wasn’t made for mates. Was I?
Bellonna’s voice cuts through my thoughts, smooth and teasing. She steps forward, her eyes locked on me like a predator sizing up her prey. Her presence is intoxicating, both alluring and dangerous. She tilts her head to the side, her sharp gaze never leaving mine, her lips curving into a knowing smile.
“That’s what this is, isn’t it, Warrick?” she purrs. “The big bad vampire president wants a mate. Varys has one, now Blackwell has one, and you want one. Want me.”
I clench my fists, trying to hold on to my composure. I’ve heard the rumors, felt the pull when she’s close, but I won’t admit it—not to her. Not to anyone. “You know nothing, Bellonna,” I growl, my words low and dangerous.
But she’s not wrong. I’ve been craving something more—someone who could fill the empty space I’ve carried for far too long. I’m stuck in a cycle of fleeting encounters that never seem to go anywhere. I’m alone, and I hate it.
Bellonna doesn’t flinch. She knows she’s right. Her smirk widens, the kind of smile that sends a shiver down my spine.
“I know that when I’ve come to visit, you were on the edge of your seat, trying not to fuck me,” she says, her voice dripping with unspoken challenge.
Again, she’s not wrong. But I don’t want to admit that to her, not now, not when her presence is suffocating in the best way possible. “You’re a tease, Bloody Mary,” I mutter, my voice rough with the frustration I refuse to show.
She laughs—low, throaty, and filled with a playful menace. “Sometimes teasing can be fun. But it’s your loss. I won’t beg you to fuck me. I have two mates for that.”
The words hang in the air like a slap, and I feel the weight of them settle into my chest, a sharp reminder of my own insecurities. But before I can respond, she turns away, her heels clicking as she walks out of the room, Blackwell trailing behind her like a puppy on a leash.
I contemplate following after them and doing just what Bellonna wants—begging her to make me hers too, but I decide better of it. I have a club to run.
“Show’s over, fuckheads. Get back to your party!”
A round of cheers sounds, and the brothers get back to celebrating another Friday night.
“What the fuck!” Jenna screams again from down the where the bedrooms are, her voice shaking with panic.
What could have possibly happened now?
I hurry out of the room, heading in the direction of Jenna’s sobbing. I find her curled up in a ball in the hallway outside Varys’ room, a bloody hand held to her face.
I kneel down, my eyes scanning the scene. A part of me doesn’t feel bad for her—she’s caused enough trouble around here to earn whatever she gets. But the sight of her, lying there, face half-covered in blood, reminds me that I’m in charge of every person in the clubhouse.
“I told you not to touch,” Bellonna snaps. Her gaze is locked on Jenna, her voice dripping with contempt. “You’re lucky it was an eye and not your whole damn head.”
Jenna’s face is a twisted mask of shock and pain. “You said your mate and I didn’t touch Blackwell, you crazy bitch!” she cries, her voice shrill with accusation.
Bellonna’s voice is sharp as a knife. “You touched Varys. He’s mine too.”
The words cut through the air like a dagger, and for a moment, everything feels too quiet. Jenna stares at Bellonna, still clutching her face, the blood pooling around her fingers.
Jenna stumbles to her feet, her expression a mix of fear and disbelief. “I didn’t do anything wrong! He touched me first!” she yells, but her voice trembles. She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what she’s dealing with.
I step forward, my eyes narrowing as I look from Bellonna to Jenna. This isn’t the first time someone has crossed a line in this clubhouse, but it’s the first time I’ve seen it go this far.
“You know better than to touch the unicorn,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t your playground, Jenna. And you better learn your place.”
Jenna looks at me, defiance flashing in her eye for a brief moment before fear takes over. She stumbles back, the blood still dripping down her face, her hands shaking.
Bellonna takes a step closer to her, her eyes burning with that familiar, icy rage. “This is your last warning, Jenna. Stay away from Varys. Stay away from all of them.”
Jenna says nothing more, her remaining eye wild with panic as she backs away, eventually turning and running out of the room.
I let out a frustrated sigh, turning to Bellonna. “Was that necessary?” I mutter, my voice thick with a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. I’m so damn tired of dealing with these people—everyone always stepping on toes, crossing lines they don’t understand.
Bellonna smirks at me, her gaze sharp and full of something I can’t quite place. “Sometimes, people need to learn the hard way. Letting them think they can get away with shit will only make it worse.”
I’m not sure I agree in this precise circumstance, but I don’t have the energy to argue right now. There are too many other things going on, too much I’m trying to process. Bellonna’s words hang in the air like a bitter aftertaste, and I can’t shake the feeling that this situation is far from over.
As I turn to leave, I catch a glimpse of Varys, his gaze meeting mine from across the room. His eyes are intense, but there’s something softer there, too. Something I can’t ignore.
The emptiness inside me starts to ache again, the loneliness gnawing at me like an old wound that never heals. I thought I could get by without needing someone—without needing him or her —but the truth is, I don’t know how to keep going without feeling like I’m missing something vital.
And right now, I think I might be closer to finding that something than I’ve ever been before.