Page 119 of Bitten Vampire
As she talks, I translate as he can’t hear her.
I’ve been trying to get that bastard for one hundred and fifty-seven years.She executes a mid-air pirouette, delighted with herself.Who would have thought a baby vampire would give me the opening?
“Who indeed.”
If I had lungs,she says,I’d sing “Ding-Dong, the Vampire’s Dead.” Shame I’m not sparkly and musical.
“Beryl…”
What? Don’t give me that look. I just saved your husband and this court of evil. A little appreciation won’t kill you—though technically, it nearly did.
“You are impossible.”
And you love me for it.
Around us, the hall remembers how to think. Guards stumble as the last threads of command unravel. Vampires in the bone-white tiers look at one another with dawning horror, understanding exactly what was done to them.
The Herald hauls himself upright, palm flat to his breastbone, voice ragged but steady enough to carry. He will make his proclamations soon. There will be ash to sweep and oaths to swear and laws to mend.
But in this breath between catastrophe and consequence, Valdarr tips his forehead to mine.
“We are alive.”
“For now,” I answer, because hope is a fragile thing and I don’t know how to hold it yet. I also do not want to jinx anything. “Let’s keep it that way.”
His mouth curves, and the fear in my chest unclenches.
Across the dais, the corpse leaks darkness onto marble.
Beryl hums, satisfied.
I lace my fingers with Valdarr’s and squeeze. “Let’s go home,” I whisper.
“Home,” he says, as though he’s tasted the word before and never found it sweet.
Beryl zips a smug loop.I call shotgun.
“Bath first,” I tell her. “Then shotgun.”
And for the first time since I died, I let myself believe in afters. In the space beyond terror and courts and kings. In a tomorrow where the villain stays dead, the stake gets a rinse, and the man I love comes home with me.
Chapter Forty-Six
Bonus Scene One - The First Delivery
Valdarr’s point of view
The ward shivers a warning,human, alone, heartbeat quick from the jog up the path. Damn it, another delivery. James swore he had cancelled the daytime security’s standing order. I told him no more. Hire an approved chef; Father’s spies are everywhere.
I stand inside the threshold, the house dark at my back. Before the driver can knock, I yank the door open.
“Good afternoon.” Head down, voice warm, professional, polite—the way humans speak when danger lurks on the other side of a door.
Sunlight halos her golden-blonde hair and freckles hercheeks. She is delicate—tiny, in fact—and too busy with the app on her phone to meet my eyes.
I’m irrationally irritated. Approaching any house unwary is dangerous; she will get herself killed.Look up, silly girl.Sunlight licks the boards at my boots.
“Nice of you to turn up. What took you so long?” I snarl.
