Page 68 of Bewitched By a Vampire

Not quite enough to get him through his current predicament, but it gave him strength.

The other thing that kept him going?

The knowledge that he would make these witches pay for targeting his family.

For harming him.

He gritted his teeth and grunted as the guard struck him again, the short metal baton the male gripped hitting him in the ribs with enough force that he feared another of them might break.

Night stared beyond the bald-headed brute to the closed iron door. It wobbled in his vision and he swallowed thickly as he struggled to blink to clear his sight. Crimson discoloured his left eye almost immediately. His own blood. The cut on his forehead was healing, but not rapidly enough, thanks to this male working him over.

It had been hours since Lilian had walked out of that door and he wasn’t sure he could take much more of this. He had been at his limit for the last hour maybe, teetering on the verge of collapse. Sheer will alone kept his feet planted firmly to the ground and his knees locked to keep him standing.

He refused to give the male witch the satisfaction of breaking him.

The fiend struck him hard in the stomach this time.

Night grunted and leaned forwards to spit blood on the flagstones. He hung from his bound wrists, staring at the crimson glistening beneath his bare feet—all of it his.

Gods, he was so thirsty.

His mouth was like a desert and his fangs constantly itched to rip into the guard’s carotid. He would gorge himself on this male’s blood if only the bastard would get close enough to him, and then maybe he would be strong enough to break free of the chains that held him in place against the icy stone wall.

When the guard had first entered the cell to work him over, Night had had the strength to fight back and had even come close to biting the man a few times, but the witch’s savage assault had quickly put an end to that. Now, he barely had the strength to remain on his feet, and soon he wouldn’t even have that.

“If you want to kill me,” he drawled, slurring some of the words, “just do it already.”

The guard struck him again, hitting him hard in the gut. Night’s left knee gave out as pain ricocheted through him and he struggled to get air into his battered lungs, each breath sheer agony. He trembled as he forced himself to stand again, refusing to let this guard steal his dignity.

He wouldn’t die on his knees.

He was a Van der Garde.

“You want blood,” he murmured at the pool beneath him and chuckled mirthlessly. “There’s your blood. Give it to that little bitch. Let her see for herself the pain I’m going to bring when I get out of these chains.”

He launched towards the guard, making him tense and lash out, and grunted as the male struck him hard on the left temple. Fire and lightning spiderwebbed across his skull.

And Night laughed.

The guard gave him a look that said there was something seriously wrong with him.

There was nothing wrong with him. There was everything wrong with Lilian.

“Want to ask me some questions?” Night drawled as he fought to remain on his feet and blinked rapidly to clear his hazy vision. Much more of this and he would pass out. His body was burning through energy at an accelerated rate, trying to heal him, and if he didn’t black out from the pain, he would black out from hunger.

Gods help anyone who untied him then.

He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from biting them. He wouldn’t even be aware of it until after his fangs had pierced their vein and he had drunk his fill of their blood, restoring his strength and his sanity. His vampire instincts would have taken over, driving him to survive.

Part of Night hoped the guard was the one to unchain him if he passed out.

A little payback would be nice.

Part of Night feared it might be Lilian.

He shut that part down, killing all the soft emotions that tried to surface as she filled his mind. His heart chilled again and his blood burned with rage. Better. He stared at the guard, silently goading him.

“Tell me your involvement in the attack on my coven.” The male repeated a demand he had issued several times before.

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