Bane
I’m going to kill him.
Bond be damned.
Not only did that leech have the audacity to f*cking kiss her, but he just had to go and f*cking broadcast the entire moment to ME. Vorian is raging again, all thanks to Dimitri Valecourt. Not the distant, simmering irritation I’ve been fighting to keep contained for days since that night when it comes to the bloodsucker.
No.
This is teeth-bared. Hackles-raised. Blood-in-the-mouth blinding fury. So much for returning calmer.
I don’t bother with dressing when I reach the edge of the treeline near the pack house. I don’t have the time, let alone the f*cking patience, to fiddle with putting on clothing. I stalk forward toward the pack house with every intention of ripping a vampire’s head clean off his shoulders the moment that I see him.
