Epilogue
Bellonna
In the past couple of months, our nights at the clubhouse have become a twisted blend of reckless indulgence and bloody debauchery. I’ve grown to enjoy the unabashed hedonism of it all—watching the club whores hop from club brother to club brother fucking and sucking, and the thrill of the so-called “fun runs,” where we give in to our darkest cravings. It's in these moments that my hunger—both for blood and destruction—feels closest to satisfied. Blackwell and I lose ourselves in the underworld of his dungeon many nights, reveling in the dangerous mix of pleasure and pain, of the kill and the release.
Blackwell, ever the hopeful one, continues to ask for his horn mark from Varys, but my unicorn, as fiercely independent as ever, still refuses. While Varys has given his heart fully to Blackwell and Warrick—his chosen mates—he won’t mark them since they’re not fated. Blackwell has secretly confessed to me that he understands and it doesn’t bother him, but it’s not going to stop him from hoping it happens, just like being reincarnated as a fucking cock-pussy.
But when the sun dips below the horizon, our nights are entirely our own. In the sanctuary of Hell—my room—everything else fades away. The world outside becomes irrelevant. It's here, in the private darkness, that the four of us come alive in ways mere mortals would never understand. My fangbangers take their turns, their passion raw and merciless. And then, they turn their eyes to Varys. My unicorn was right; watching him submit to their desires is a sight I’ve come to savor. There’s something darkly beautiful about the way he chokes on Blackwell’s cock while Warrick claims him from behind.
And me?
I’m an observer, a participant in my own way. My fingers explore, teasing and stroking as the scene unfolds before me. Each movement, each gasp, each moan builds and spirals until we’re all spent, trembling with satisfaction. When the last of the tension breaks, Blackwell and Warrick clean me tenderly, their touch lingering, warm but full of the heat we’ve shared. But there’s a distance between them, one that neither will cross, despite the playful teasing I enjoy. For now, it remains a fantasy—a boundary that neither man will willingly breach, but it won’t stop me from dreaming. I’m all-powerful, after all.
Just as the last traces of pleasure settle over us, a voice cuts through my mind—Lilith’s unmistakable presence, like an itch I can’t scratch.
“Bellonna…” Her unmistakable tone echoes in my head like a grumbling gnat.
“What, I’m kind of busy?” I respond, irritated yet intrigued.
“I’ve got a task for you,” she continues. “Seems someone’s been naughty—targeting bikers in Skipton. I thought you and your mates might like to handle it. Find out who’s behind it and why. We’ll decide on punishment once you have answers.”
A wicked grin spreads across my face. This changes everything. This could be fun. I’ve always loved a good hunt. “Consider it done,” I reply.
Blackwell stirs beside me, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “What’s going on?” he asks, his voice low and rough from our earlier escapades.
“Just a call from Lilith,” I reply, stretching lazily against the sheets. “She wants us to find out who’s been killing bikers in Skipton.”
His gaze sharpens, interest piqued. “And when do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning,” I answer with a playful smirk. “Looks like we’re playing detective and murderer.”
“Done,” Blackwell agrees instantly, no hesitation in his voice.
As if on cue, Warrick strolls into the room, carrying a large box of food from the local Mexican joint. The scent of seasoned meat and warm tortillas fills the air, and for a moment, everything feels mundane again, as if our lives weren't constantly teetering on the edge of chaos.
“One, that portal in my office to your room is still amazing. Second, who are we murdering?” he asks casually, as though discussing the weather.
“We don’t know yet,” Blackwell answers, unbothered. “But they’re killing bikers, so they’ve made it personal.”
Varys, ever the quiet one, steps into the room, his graceful presence filling the space. “When do we leave?” he asks, his voice calm but carrying that quiet intensity that always gets my attention.
“Tomorrow,” I reply. “We’ll find out what’s going on, and why they’re targeting our kind.”
And just like that, we settle into the comfort of our unorthodox family. The laughter echoes through the room as we eat, a rare moment of normalcy in a life that is anything but. It’s moments like these that remind me of how far I’ve come—of how my life has changed from vengeance to something deeper, something more dangerous.
I’d once planned to break these fangbangers, to destroy them. Varys was just a toy in my game. But fate? Fate had other plans. Now, I’m not just a legend—I’m hopelessly, madly in love with them.
A distant chant echoes through the walls, the familiar refrain—"Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary."
I groan, rolling my eyes as I slip out of bed. “Duty calls, boys. Someone just summoned me. If it’s another high school sleepover prank, I swear I’m going to smother them with a pillow,” I mutter, waving my hand, changing to my Bloody Mary form and vanishing from the room.
THE END