Chapter 8 Balthazar
Balthazar
The late afternoon air was thick with the cloying scent of sweet orange and musky incense.
Laughter and the gentle trickle of fountains echoed through the sun-drenched streets, an irritating backdrop to an otherwise garish display of joy.
Cobblestone paths led through vibrant market stalls, each bursting with color and noise.
Street performers gathered in plazas, strumming lutes and juggling for coins while merchants barked out prices to passersby.
It was revolting.
Too cheerful. Too loud. Too alive.
Glowering, I stalked through the marketplace with Alina at my side, her hand tucked neatly into the crook of my elbow like a charming lover on a proper stroll. And yet, every few steps, her gaze would drift toward the men we passed—men who didn’t even try to hide their lust.
Despite the clear sign she belonged to me, they ogled her openly, shamelessly. Her beauty was impossible to ignore—graceful, radiant, commanding. They would have fallen to their knees if she had so much as smiled in their direction.
And she knew it.
She thrived on their attention.
Two fools shoved each other over her, snarling like dogs in heat. The sight of it sent an arrow of irritation through my chest.
I sneered.
Alina, ever amused, let out a soft laugh at the spectacle before turning back to me. Her gossamer green silk dress clung to her bodice, then flared into a wide skirt that swayed with every step. The neckline dipped just enough to tease, revealing the barest curve of her perfect breasts.
She looked divine. Powerful.
Untouchable.
Her eyes locked on mine, playful and glinting with something dangerous.
“Why the angry face, my love?” she teased.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My chest tightened beneath her gaze.
She walked with the confidence of a queen—no, a goddess. Wherever she went, heads turned, conversations halted. The world noticed her. Worshipped her.
And I hated it.
I wanted to be the one she craved. The one who made her pause, her fall silent. But with every passing day, I felt her slipping from my grasp.
“I’m famished,” I said, quickening my pace to hurry her along. “Let’s find a place to eat.”
But hunger had nothing to do with it.
Inside, I was a storm of conflicting emotions—love, lust, jealousy—all tangled into a desperate desire to reclaim control. To remind her that she was mine.
I didn’t want to share Alina. Not anymore.
I wanted exclusive rights. Her time. Her touch. Her loyalty.
But how could I assert that without pushing her away?
She wasn’t like the others—those forgettable bodies, those shallow encounters. She was an enigma—a flame I couldn’t hold without getting burned. And yet, I couldn’t stay away.
I feared that if I tried to possess her, I’d lose her. But if I didn’t, she might slip through my fingers forever.
The uncertainty made me feel weak.
And I despised weakness.
Especially in myself.
A sinister smile curled across my lips. My eyes narrowed as I made a dark, final decision. If tenderness couldn’t bind her to me, then fear would. Power would. Blood.
She’d seen me kill before, but this time… this time, I’d make her watch. Not from a distance. Not as a rumor or aftermath.
Up close.
She would see the monster I could be. And then she would understand.
Then, she would submit.
I turned to her. “I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” she repeated, pleased, her expression brightening.
She had no idea.
We stood in the town square, bathed in the coppery glow of the setting sun. The light caught in her hair and kissed her skin, and I was drawn to her like a needle to a lodestone.
I wanted the world to know.
That she was mine.
I moved in, pressed my hands to either side of her face, and kissed her—madly, hungrily—right there in the center of the square.
She gasped, but I didn’t let her breathe. I devoured her moan, grinding my arousal against her as my tongue claimed hers. She sucked on it, twirled her own around mine with fierce, unrelenting desire.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the stares.
Wide eyes. Shocked faces. Scandalized whispers.
No one dared show affection like this in public.
I didn’t care.
Let them watch.
Let them know.
Alina’s eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed pink, her chest rising and falling with quickened breath. Her nipples strained beneath the silk of her gown.
“Was that the surprise?” she asked, brushing her swollen lips with the tip of her finger.
I shook my head, lips twitching into a faint smile. Without a word, I seized her hand and led her away from the square, leaving the murmurs and stares behind us.
We found a quiet café at the edge of the marketplace, hidden in the crook of a vine-covered alley. I gestured to a small outdoor table, and she obeyed—still breathless, still reeling from the kiss I’d planted on her like a brand.
The torch-lit terrace glowed with a golden warmth. Iron poles curled with delicate designs held the flames aloft, casting shadows against the cobblestone walls and blanketing everything in a rich amber hue.
Chairs and benches wrapped in thick red and blue blankets added a rustic charm to the setting. Tables were dressed in fine Italian linen, the soft fabric fluttering with the breeze. The scene was cozy, intimate, and deceptively gentle.
I ordered two glasses of Valpolicella, a velvety red from the Veneto region. It was rich with dark cherries, wild berries, and the faintest kiss of spice—one of my favorites.
As we waited, I reached across the table and stroked her hand. “You look breathtaking, as always, cara mia.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, lowering her gaze, then lifting it again through thick lashes. “Is this the surprise?”
I smiled. “Just wait.”
The wine arrived, deep and ruby-colored in crystal glasses. We sipped and slipped into idle, flirtatious chatter as the evening sky melted into night, stars blooming like secrets above us.
With each sip, the Valpolicella curled warm through my limbs. The alcohol’s soft buzz relaxed my body, but my mind remained razor-sharp, focused solely on her.
Her auburn hair fell like liquid fire around her face, and all I could see were those eyes—wide, luminous, glittering like constellations. Desire curled hot and fast through me.
I wanted her.
But more than that, I wanted to own her.
The thought of killing in front of her, of showing her what I was truly capable of, made my blood hum with anticipation. She would see me for what I was. A monster. A god. And she would bend beneath my will.
Other couples trickled around us, filling the space with low laughter and clinking glasses. The air buzzed with warmth and closeness, but the center of gravity belonged to us. I knew they could feel it—our tension, our heat, the magnetic force tethering us.
I slid my chair closer, circling the table like a predator drawn to prey.
Lifting her hair from the back of her neck, I leaned in and nuzzled the delicate curve of her throat. Her skin was warm and smooth, scented with jasmine and sin.
“You’re everything to me,” I whispered, lips grazing her ear. “Cara mia.”
“As are you,” Alina breathed, tilting her head back and baring her slender neck in offering. Her hand glided along my jaw, stroking the rough stubble languidly. “You please me to no end.”
“I strive to satisfy,” I murmured.
Around us, the atmosphere simmered with seduction. Couples were drunk on each other—fingers wandering, lips grazing, restraint unraveling.
One man traced the swell of his partner’s breast as he whispered into her ear.
Another woman, thinking herself hidden beneath the linen-draped table, worked her lover’s cock. Her long, pointed nails gleamed as they moved.
I saw it all.
And I felt it.
The heat of the night soaked into my skin. Arousal surged through me like a wave crashing against stone.
Unable to resist, I crushed my lips to Alina’s, tasting her gasp as our mouths collided. My tongue plunged into hers, claiming every inch. She responded with a feral hunger, her nails raking across my back.
My hand slid down, curving over her core, pressing through the silk of her dress. She trembled, melting beneath my touch, her breath hot and fast against my mouth.
“I need you now,” I growled into her ear. “Don’t make me wait.”
Her eyes flared with fire. “Yes. Take me,” she whispered, breathless.
But my desire demanded more than pleasure.
It demanded blood.
I scanned the edge of the plaza. And then I saw her—a small, timid figure scuttling along the darkened path. Head down. Shoulders hunched.
Perfect.
She was meek. Inconsequential. The kind of soul who would vanish without a ripple.
“I’ll take the path to the alleyway first,” I told Alina, my voice rough and primal. “Meet me there in five minutes. No hesitation. I have an insatiable appetite that must be fed.”
Alina shivered, her lips parting. “Hurry, my love.”
I didn’t look back.
I followed the woman into the alley’s embrace, the sounds of the square fading behind me. Shadows thickened as I approached. I was upon her in one swift motion—my hand clamped over her mouth, dragging her into the dark.
She gasped, her body struggling, but I held her firm. She was slight, soft, and easy to subdue. Her fear pulsed like a living thing between us, her breath shallow, her limbs shaking.
And then—
Alina appeared at the mouth of the alley.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t move.
She watched.
With a flick of my wrist, I unsheathed my blade. Cold steel caught the torchlight for a breath of a moment before I drove it into the woman’s neck.
Her body spasmed. Blood sprayed, hot and immediate, coating my face in a warm mist. The gurgle of her final breath echoed off the stone as her body crumpled, lifeless, against the wall.
I stepped back.
Slowly. Deliberately.
I wiped the blade with a handkerchief and met Alina’s gaze through the darkness.
Alina stood there, watching me.