Page 66 of Bewitched By a Vampire

“Extract the information.” The other witch slid her a cold look, one that had unease sliding through Lilian for some reason.

She frowned at the woman and stepped into the cell, her eyes struggling to adjust to the pitch darkness. A light above her flickered on and Night stepped forwards, emerging from the shadows.

“Mother earth,” she whispered, her eyes widening at the sight of him, shock sweeping through her to shake her and deepen the doubts she had been trying to keep at bay.

They hadn’t just questioned him. They had worked him over.

A vicious slash cut across the bridge of his nose and another intersected his right eyebrow. The skin around that eye was dark, mottled with bruising, and his lip had been split. Blood still tracked over his chin and reddened his nose, and drops of it had dried on his dirty bare chest too. She ran her gaze down his battered and bruised torso to his filthy black trousers and his bloodied, grimy hands.

They had been treating him like an animal.

She took a step towards him, unable to stop herself.

Night bared his fangs at her and snarled like a beast. “You’re a witch?”

Lilian nodded slowly, some part of her aware of the danger she was placing herself in by admitting that, but she didn’t want to lie to him. His elliptical pupils narrowed in the centre of his crimson irises as he glared at her, and she realised that this time the mistrust went both ways. Witches rarely trusted vampires.

Night looked as if he hated her breed with a passion.

He eased back and his demeanour changed, his expression growing calm and his posture relaxed. She could read his eyes now though, knew him well enough to see that despite his collected air, emotions still existed inside him.

And the dominant one was betrayal.

He felt as if she had betrayed him.

Or perhaps it was her own guilt making her see that in his eyes as he stared at her.

“I’m sorry,” she started and his expression remained placid.

He didn’t even twitch.

She glanced at the witches behind her, part of her needing to know they were still there and that she could get out if she needed to, and then she stepped into the cell. The door closed behind her with a deafening bang and she tensed, her shoulders hiking up.

Night still didn’t react.

She wished she could be as composed as he was. She began fidgeting with the front of her dress and then stopped, smoothed it down and looked him in the eye.

“I never meant to hurt you, and I’m sorry other witches did. If you answer my questions, you’ll be released.” She didn’t miss the brief iciness that crossed his eyes. It made her feel that releasing him would be a terrible mistake and that he was already plotting his revenge.

He tipped his chin up and looked down at her.

“I have nothing to hide. Unlike some.” His bitterly cold tone cut at her and she flinched, unable to stop the reaction in time to hide how much he could wound her with only words and the distance it created between them. “Ask what you will, but I want to know something and I will not answer a damned thing until you tell me. Why did you want Bastian’s blood?”

Lilian looked down at her feet and considered how much to tell him. The elders hadn’t told her to keep Night in the dark. They wanted answers and telling him why they wanted his brother might help her get those answers. She lifted her gaze to meet his crimson one.

“This place… it’s only half our coven. We have—had—another house in Germany… in the Black Forest. It was attacked recently. It was destroyed and we know a vampire did it.” She struggled to hold his gaze as his eyes narrowed on her, anger flaring in them. “The vampire who attacked was brutal and left none alive as witnesses. We only have the word of another coven to go on. There was talk of a vampire being seen in the area before the attack and someone recognised him as Bastian Van der Garde.”

His eyes grew cold and calculating as he went very still, sending a chill through her. His stony expression gave none of his feelings away.

Here was the assassin he claimed to be and she had been the one to bring him out.

“Do you intend to bring harm to my brother?” His tone was calm and measured, but as cold as a blade as he studied her closely, and she felt a lot rested on the answer to that question.

“He brought harm to us first,” she countered, the wrong response judging by the barest twitch of his fingers that had her tensing and bracing, preparing herself for his wrath. Only he didn’t move. He remained where he was, the ten feet between them feeling like a vast, frigid ocean. She didn’t miss that his claws were out though.

“You are mistaken about my brother.”

She was beginning to feel that too.

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