Page 120 of Bitten Vampire
Takeaway grease, canine, and orange juice masks her natural scent. I draw a deeper breath and?—
Everything in me goes silent—then roars.
The bond slams into me so hard I must brace against the doorframe.Mine.The word detonates through a thousand years of restraint.Mine, every feral instinct whispers.My mate. Mine to guard, mine to cherish…mine to ruin if I’m not careful.
No.
Human.
Fragile.
Wrong life. Wrong time.
“My apologies, sir,” she says, placating. “The restaurant is on the other side of the border. A forty-minute drive. But please don’t worry, the food is under a stasis spell, so it’s still piping hot.”
I school my face to boredom—predatory, unimpressed—anything but the panic battering my chest.
She finally lifts her face.
Not a girl. All woman, and my mate isbeautiful. Her heart skips once—exactly once. Pale blue eyes flecked with silver, ringed in deep navy, lock on mine.
I memorise the moment.
I take the bag and spit the first uglywords that will make her go. “No tip.” Cruel. Necessary. No one can know, least of all her.
Her gaze flickers; she squares her shoulders and nods. “Tipping isn’t mandatory, sir. Enjoy your meal.” Calm, still kind.
Sir.Respectful to the brute at the door. “Whatever.” I slam the door on the brightest thing I’ve seen in a century. In my life.
I press my forehead to the wood like a fool until her footsteps fade.
Harrison will have my head. I don’t care. I text her car’s registration.Send our best team to watch the woman. Do not engage. Report only.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Bonus Scene Two – The Border Station
Valdarr’s point of view
Around-the-clock security has watchedher for four weeks. It took a few days to assemble the right people, but three teams now cover her in shifts. Every report is the same: delivery runs, a dog walk, and she is home before dark. There is nothing concerning.
Then the call comes.
They have lost her.
“Someone small, fast, ran up and down the street,” the guard says. “Vampire fast. Picked up by border patrol, leaving the Human Sector.”
My someone.
My coat is on before the call ends. James tries totalk—agenda, meetings, a complaint about knives in the dishwasher. I leave him speaking and take the stairs two at a time.
By the time I reach the station, she’s already in custody.
The building reeks of bleach, blood, and old magic. The desk officer straightens as I cross the floor.
Her fear scents the air like a fine razor. She keeps her gaze down, posture defensive, yet the absence of a heartbeat hammers against my senses. Rage spikes so sharp my power flares.
No.
