CHAPTER 5
Rue
An imposing wrought iron gate stands before us like a silent sentinel. On the other side is a sprawling mansion complete with harsh roof angles and rounded towers the Queen Anne style is known for. With the dark brick siding, it screams that something is lurking behind those walls—something ready to devour.
I have to admit, it’s beautiful in a haunting sort of way.
Slight movement on the roof has my gaze flicking upward. My eyes widen. Are those gargoyles on the roof? And did one just move?
I stare at them intently as we get closer, but nothing happens again, so I chalk it up to an actual stress-induced hallucination. From what I remember, real gargoyles went extinct centuries ago. So, there’s no way it actually moved. That would be crazy even in a world where the supernatural exists and roams free.
But if there was any doubt in my mind that this is Slade’s home, that confirmed it. The vampire lord seems broody enough to have gargoyle statues perched on his home.
This place is completely at odds with the vibes of the wolves’ honeymoon cabin, and while they’re different, I like both. My fingers itch for my charcoal pencils, which would be the perfect media to capture the moody essence of this place.
For some reason, I’m acutely aware of the sun setting behind us as the last light of the day dips below the horizon. Probably because the darker it is, the stronger a vampire becomes. Ferals even more so.
A chill zips along my spine as the gate suddenly swings open on its own, as if welcoming its master.
Slade presses the briefest of kisses against my forehead before whispering, “Welcome home, ma douce goutte.”
I’m not sure if he meant to or not, but I noticed he didn’t say welcome to my home. He said welcome home. Like this place is ours.
A part of me deep down preens at the suggestion while the other rebels that my—the wolves wouldn’t have a place here. Vampires and shifters are mortal enemies. Have been since the dawn of supernatural kind. I’m not na?ve enough to think this fragile peace between them will last forever, but a part of me desperately wishes it would.
If they joined forces... truly joined together and worked in harmony, I’m not sure there’s a threat they couldn’t face.
Slade jostles my injured shoulder, and I can’t stop the yelp before it escapes. Immediately he freezes, an eerie sort of calm coming over him. “Where are you hurt?”
“My shoulder,” I respond with a wince. “When I tried to escape earlier, I landed on it wrong.”
A snarl escapes him. “When I find your captor, I will rip them limb from limb, en toutes petites pièces.”
And I truly believe him. Moons help me. He’s seriously sexy when he’s murderous like this. I should be terrified, but I’m not. If anything, there’s a buzz under my skin urging me to get closer to the mysterious psycho vampire leader.
Silent as a shadow, Slade ascends the porch steps with me in his arms, carrying me across the threshold and into his home. The foyer is grand, with tall ceilings and intricate artwork adorning the walls.
He pauses for a moment to shut the massive door behind us, effectively cutting us off from the world outside. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, some of my earlier anxiety easing, somehow knowing Slade will do anything to keep us safe.
Rescuing me is a direct testament to that.
As he steps further into the house, I take in exactly how overtly grand it is. I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting this. While gothic in essence, it’s far from dark and dreary. There are stunning hardwood floors that appear original and white wainscoting beautifully contrasting against black painted walls.
Slade’s eyes meet mine, capturing my attention. “What do you think?” There’s an underlying uncertainty in his tone, as if he’s afraid I won’t like it.
“It’s beautiful,” I reply honestly. “Maybe when I’m healed, you can give me a tour.”
His lips quirk into a small smile. “I’d like that.”
A male vampire suddenly rushes toward us, but Slade simply growls, dismissing the man with a single sound. “Get rid of everyone for the rest of the day, Henri. Aucunes distractions ou intérruptions, vous m’entendez?”
The man, Henri, gulps and looks as if he wants to know more, but simply nods and disappears as quickly as he appeared.
Exhaustion threatens to overtake me as Slade carries me up a sweeping staircase that deposits us onto a spacious second floor landing. I’m too hexin’ tired to give their conversation another thought.
My body feels heavy now that the adrenaline rush has faded, and my limbs ache as Slade cradles me to him, supporting my weight effortlessly. His arms are a refuge, strong and unwavering, much like the vampire himself.
The faint scent of old wood lingers in the air, but is overpowered by dark cherries and almonds, like a rich amaretto drink, and distinctly Slade.
From the landing, we make our way along a hallway lit with candelabras, their fiery glow more than enough light to see clearly with, and if I had to guess, easier on a vampire’s eyes. That’s not to say this place doesn’t have electricity, because there are also recessed lights in the ceiling, but something tells me the vamps prefer the candlelight.
The hall is lined with closed doors, and I can’t help but wonder about the secrets that may be hidden behind each one.
A tall, narrow mirror stands against one wall, its polished surface reflecting our movement in its silvery depths. I catch a glimpse of my reflection and feel a gasp rising in my throat. My normally wavy hair is now a tangled mess of knots, my skin paler than usual and I’m bruised from head to toe. I’m more banged up than I thought.
Slade’s sharp gaze catches on my reaction, his grip around me tightening. He moves with purpose as he strides to the end of the hall and opens the last door on the left, revealing a room that looks as if it’s been plucked straight out of a romance novel.
Holy hexes, there are so many pillows and blankets on the bed, one could get lost. It’s like they’re beckoning me to lay on them and sink into their warm depths.
I have to admit, none of this is at all what I expected from someone like Slade. Known for his ruthless nature as a vampire, I’ve been picturing him sleeping in a cold coffin or something equally gloomy like you’d see in a movie, despite knowing real vampires aren’t like that. But this room is anything but—it’s like stepping into a cozy slice of heaven.
A soft burst of laughter escapes my lips, surprising even myself. Slade raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. “Something funny, little witch?”
“Just not what I’d imagined,” I confess, still taking in the inviting space around me. The room is elegant yet comfortable, with dark neutral tones and plush furnishings. “It’s really nice.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he coos, gently setting me on the bed. The plush sheets engulf me, and I can’t help but sink into their embrace. His gaze traces over my battered form, assessing the extent of my injuries. He doesn’t say anything else, but the vein pulsing in his neck speaks to his anger at what he finds.
My head throbs from the impact of being thrown into the van. A tiny voice inside my mind whispers that sleeping would be a terrible idea, but as I lay here, enveloped in the velvety luxuriousness of his bed—because it couldn’t be anyone else’s when it smells so strongly like him—I can’t help but imagine that this must be what sleeping on a cloud feels like. There has to be some sort of magic woven into its fibers or something.
A witch could get used to this.