Page 71 of Bewitched By a Vampire

In her eyes?

She couldn’t bring herself to believe he had done it. She wasn’t naïve. She knew the reason she couldn’t believe he had slaughtered dozens of witches was because she didn’t want him to be the one who had done it. She wanted him to be the vampire she had been falling in love with, the one who had been strong but kind to her, who had smiled at her and moved mountains in order to protect her. She didn’t want him to be a cold, heartless murderer.

But by his own admission he was.

Her gaze lowered to the silver scar that cut across his throat.

No. He wasn’t. Deep in her heart, she knew he’d had his reasons for rampaging through a coven, killing anyone who stood in his path. He had been seeking vengeance.

Her own coven wanted a taste of that too and she was to be the tool that carried it out.

She was no better than him. If he was a cold, heartless murderer for carrying out his revenge, then she was a cold, heartless murderer too.

Or she would have been had Night not walked into her life to change the course of it.

She felt the two guards close in behind her, a reminder that the course of her life hadn’t changed that much. Her coven still wanted her to fulfil her mission. There was still time for her to end up being a tool for vengeance.

“Continue your mission.” One of the guards shoved her shoulder, pushing her into the cell.

A bad feeling washed over her as the door closed with an ominous boom behind her and everything grew darker.

She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to continue her mission. Did they want her to question him? Take his blood and dream his memories? The thought of trying to get close to him as he was now had her opting for the former.

“Night,” she started and his eyes narrowed slightly. “Um… I need you to tell me more about your brother. Anything you can think of that might help clear his name. Are you sure you don’t remember him mentioning anything about a trip or where he might have been on the seventh?”

Night just stared at her, his bare chest heaving with each hard breath he pulled down. She glanced at the darkness that marred his skin on one side of his torso and looked away, guilt churning her stomach. The guard must have broken his ribs. She couldn’t imagine how much pain he was in or how hungry he was.

She stared at the stones beneath him, at the blood that glistened on them, and then lifted her head and looked at the chains that hung from the ceiling and the crimson that coated the sharp edges of the manacles. Her gaze lowered again, settling on his chafed wrists and the dried streaks of blood that tracked up his arms from them.

Her brow furrowed, her heart aching as images of him with his hands bound above his head, being beaten by the man she had seen, filled her mind.

Her gaze collided with his, the apology on her lips fading as his scarlet gaze seared her, the hunger in it frightening her a little. She wanted to go to him and do something to help him, to make him see that she hadn’t known what had been happening to him and she would have tried to stop it if she had, but she feared what he would do.

His fingers twitched and curled into fists, his muscles flexing and his entire body tensing as he stared at her. Lines bracketed his mouth as the set of his jaw hardened, and his hands shook as a war erupted in his eyes. He was holding himself back. Fighting his hunger.

How long would it be before it got the better of him?

Lilian looked over her shoulder at the door, at the slot that was open to reveal one of the women. “He’s in no fit state to talk. What do you expect me to get out of him? He already told us that his brother didn’t attack the coven.”

“The elders wish to know if he did.”

She swallowed, sick to her stomach at the thought of finding out the answer to that question, and looked at Night.

He glared at her, a savage twist to his expression as his lips peeled back off his enormous fangs and his elliptical pupils narrowed to thin slits in the centres of his crimson irises. He could still understand what they were saying, and she took that as a good sign. If he could understand, then there was a chance he might do as she needed.

“If you answer my questions, I will get you blood, Night.” She softened her tone as she said his name. Whenever she had used it before, he had reacted as if she wielded power over him by speaking it. She drew down a fortifying breath and exhaled, centring herself and seeking the strength to do this—to ask him this. “Did you really attack a coven a long time ago and slaughter everyone?”

In response to that, he growled and flashed his fangs.

“Answer the question, Night. Please? Did you do that?”

He snapped his fangs this time, jerking forwards as he did so, and then grimaced and eased back. He drew down a shuddering, shallow breath and shifted his hand to his side.

Clutching his bruised ribs.

Lilian turned to the door. “Give me some blood! He can’t talk when he’s like this. He needs to heal. Just give me enough to help him take the edge off his hunger.”

“No.” The woman’s cold eyes backed up that word, telling Lilian that she didn’t care that Night was suffering.

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