Bound by Blood and Fang

Chapter 10

Bane

Two days later

“My King, nearly thirty vampires are prowling on the grounds now, and many of our guards are… apprehensive about having a slew of blood‑suckers in the house,” Silas says as I pace the floor in front of my desk.

My men aren’t the only ones with an issue about the sudden infestation of vampires in our territory.

I have one sleeping two doors down from me.

One who keeps circling my bonded.

One who would sink his fangs into her the first chance he gets.

Vorian snarls from the recesses of my mind, his tail lashing violently through the air behind him as he paces along the edges of my mind.

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” I snarl.

“Understandable,” Silas replies, calm as ever, “but what would you like me to tell the others? Many of them have families here, and they’re growing worried that, with so many vampires around, someone will start feeding on them if they aren’t properly kept in check.”

That is a problem that I hadn’t foreseen. And one that will have to be addressed with the bastard himself. I can't have my people terrified to walk around their own territory without being accosted by some blood-sucking leech that wants to make them a snack.

I grit my teeth because the name on the tip of my tongue already tastes like ash.

“I’ll speak to Valecourt. Make it clear that none of our people are to be used as his kind’s feed bags.”

Silas inclines his head and turns toward the door.

“Silas?” I call out.

He stops, turning and facing me again. My heart slams against my ribs, and this strange feeling that I am not used to claws its way up my throat.

“Has Alora come out yet?”

It’s been two days.

Two long, painful days since she spoke her name for the first time — and I haven’t been able to think clearly since. I can feel her through the bond, hear her heart beating through the wall that separates our rooms. She’s still in heat, still suffering, still refusing to let me in to ease her pain. During the ritual, it’s easier. The potion strips away resistance, makes touch inevitable. But now? Now she’s barricaded herself in that room and refuses to leave it.

Fucking fates.

This would be so much simpler if she were solely mine. She would have softened by now, relaxed more into the idea of the bond and what it all entails. But no, the f*cking Fates had to go and make everything far more complicated than it should have been.

“No, my King, she has not,” Silas says. "The maids report she’s struggling, the heat spikes more often and more intently. She refuses to hear them talk about her bonded being the one able to help, insisting that she is fine. But she has asked them to bring in specific herbs for a tea she likes."

The corner of his mouth twitches. “With respect, my King… she is a fiery one. I hope you’re prepared for what being bonded to a woman with her spirit will be like.”

I can’t help the small smile. Silas would know — his bonded is a hellfire of a woman who takes no lip from anyone, even warriors twice her size.

“Maybe Jenny can get through to her,” I say. “They’re alike. Maybe having another female like her would be comforting. Maybe she can convince Alora to let me help.”

Silas’s expression shifts — not angry, but firm. “Having a friend for your bonded is a good idea, my King. But I will not allow you to use mine just to get to yours.”

Vorian grumbles in the back of my mind, clearly as frustrated as I am with everything that is happening right now.

“You’re right, would you still see if Jenny would meet with Alora? The sooner I can get her to calm down, the better,” I say as I resume my pacing.

Silas laughs, "Piece of advice for a bonded male, My King. Never, and I do mean never, utter the words 'calm down' to a female. It has the opposite effect, and you will find yourself sleeping on the floor."

I stop and look at him, clasping my hands behind my back. "Sounds like you are speaking from experience?"

"Unfortunately," he says before he disappears out the door.

“The others should be back by now. What is taking them so long?” Vorian growls in annoyance once I am alone again.

Once I had her name, I was able to do more digging into her and her family. The Well’s family has lived in Mistwood for as long as I can tell. Respectable family. Not wealthy by any means, but they were well respected by the others in Mistwood. Her father had passed away when she was around eight, and Alora had been raised by her Mother from then on alone.

I inhale through my nose, her scent already seeping into every corner of the pack house here. “It takes a day to get there in wolf form, and once they arrived they have to find her mother and any other family. It isn't going to be as easy as you think,” I reminded him.

He snaps his jaws at me like that is going to change the facts. “We should have heard something by now.”

I agree. I figured that my men would have sent word back as soon as they could, but it has been nothing but silence since they left.

“Do you think the leech had the same idea and sent his bloodsuckers to find her family?”

The thought slams into me so violently that I stop mid‑stride and almost collide with one of the leather chairs in front of my desk.

“His lieutenant did leave shortly after our men did. If he can get to any family she still has first, that could sway her to his side.”

Once again, I curse the Fates who decided that this situation was reasonable. I know I should summon the leech to me — keep the upper hand, make him come crawling. But the moment I realized that he might have sent someone for her family as well, all rational thought burned away.

I storm my way through the packhouse.

Wolves flatten themselves against the walls as I pass, their heads bowed, in respect and fear, with their shoulders hunched forward, making themselves as small as possible to not draw my attention to them. My fury rolls off me in waves so thick the air feels charged, electric. Even the floorboards seem to tense beneath my boots.

I slow as I passed her door. The one that is situated right between mine and the leeches. He threw a tantrum when he smelled me on her — when he realized she was wearing my clothes. I thought the vein in his forehead might burst when he realized that I had held her that night. Her body next to mine. It was the best damn sleep I ever had having her next to me.

Now, she’s in there suffering alone, and there is nothing that I can do to help her. Because she won't let me.

Vorian claws at the inside of my skull, snarling, his volatility simmering because she is so close. “Go to her. Fix it. Fix her.”

A growl rumbles in my chest as I continue for the vampire’s door. I don’t bother knocking gently; the idea of breaking the door down is quite tempting. Instead, I slam my fists into the wood hard enough that the frame rattles and the wood groans from the assault. Vorian snarls in my head, pacing, claws scraping across the inside of my skull.

The door opens before I can hit it again.

Valecourt stands there smugly like he’s been waiting for me all along — relaxed, composed, wearing that infuriatingly calm expression that makes me want to put him through a wall. His posture is loose, almost bored, but his eyes gleam with something sharp and calculating.

“Alpha,” he says smoothly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I shoulder past him, hitting him with a bit more force for his disrespect.

“Cut the sh*t.”

He closes the door behind me with a soft click, the sound somehow louder than when my fist beat against it moments ago. His room is dim, lit only by the fire and a few candles in the corner. Shadows cling to the stone walls. In the short amount of time, he has made this room smell like old books, cold stone, and something metallic beneath it all — vampire.

My wolf bristles, the hairs on his back standing on end as he braces himself in case of an attack.

Dimitri doesn’t sit. He doesn’t posture. He just watches me from in front of the door with those bronze eyes, like he’s already dissected every reason I might be here and is trying to figure out the best way to approach it.

“Your people are making mine nervous,” I state plainly, pacing in front of his hearth. My boots echo against the stone. “Thirty vampires on my land is thirty too many.”

“They’re here for my protection,” he replies. “And for hers.”

My jaw tightens at the implication that she has any f*cking connection to him or that she would need the protection of f*cking vampires. “They stay away from her.”

A faint smile touches his mouth— slow, knowing, needling. "I thought I made it clear that she is not just 'Yours' Alpha?"

“I’m not finished.” My fist clenches at my sides as I fight to hold my wolf back.

“Of course not,” he comments as he clasps his hands behind his back.

I step closer, letting him feel the threat in my stance as I do. He doesn’t back up. He doesn’t even blink. “None of your people feed on mine. Not a drop. Not a taste. Not a ‘slip.’ Not a ‘mistake.’ Not a ‘misunderstanding.’ Understand?”

His expression doesn’t change as he looks down his nose at me in that annoying vampire way. “Agreed.”

His sudden response actually throws me for half a second — I expected a fight. I expected him to go off on some rant about predators and feeding however they wanted, but instead, he agreed. Just like that.

But then he adds, “Vampires prefer to reframe for drinking from a werewolf. The blood is too …gamey.” He smiles, slow and mocking, because he knows he is doing nothing but pissing Vorian off more.

“As long as your wolves don’t provoke mine, we shouldn't have a problem.”

I grit my teeth. “My wolves don’t start fights.”

“No,” he says softly. “But they finish them.”

Vorian lunges inside me, snarling and snapping his jaws ferociously, and I have to force him back down. Not now.

I take a breath.

Then another.

“Good,” I say. “Then we understand each other.”

He huffs a laugh. “Not even close, mutt.”

My anger boils like lava in my veins as I fight the urge to shift. Vorian is extremely volatile at the moment. I am surprised that he hasn't ripped someone's head off yet, since he hasn't been near her for two days. I turn toward the fire, pretending to study the flames, trying to keep my voice level.

“Your lieutenant seems to have… disappeared. Care to share where he wandered off to?”

Dimitri’s silence is immediate and sharp in the air.

I turn and level him with a look. “Tell me, is your lieutenant sniffing around my territory. Asking questions. Talking to people he shouldn’t be talking to.”

“Cassian talks to whoever he pleases,” Dimitri says, drifting a few steps closer to the fire. He moves like smoke — slow, fluid. “He’s very good at it.”

"I have no doubt that he is." That particular leech has the uncanny ability to pull whatever information he wants to out of a target with little effort. Most think it's his charming personality, but I know the truth. "What’s he looking for?"

“Information.” He tilts his head like he is sizing me up. Vorian puffs out his chest in the back of my mind, growing even more annoyed with the bloodsucker and his evasiveness.

“About what?”

“About her.”

My hands curl into fists, claws biting into the bottom of my palms. “Stay out of her past.”

His eyes flashed red. “You don’t even know her past.”

“I know enough.”

“You know nothing. Same as I.” He snorts as his words hit like a blade, slicing through me straight to the bone.

I spin fully toward him. “If you’re digging into her family, you tell me right now.”

Dimitri chuckles while studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s already solved. He takes one slow step closer — not threatening, but deliberate enough to make my lip curl and a snarl slip past.

“I’m not obligated to tell you anything, mutt.”

My vision edges red. “She’s my bonded.”

“She’s mine too.” Dimitri steps in closer, the faintest curl of amusement tugging at his mouth. “And whether I have someone looking into her past is no different than you sending your flea-bitten hounds to do the very same thing,” he sneers at me like this little game is amusing to him.

“What? You truly thought I wouldn’t know you sent a team as well? Tell me, Alpha—what do you think is less stressful? A pack of wolves pounding on someone’s door, or Cassian and his charming personality?”

"Stay. OUT. Of my head." I snap. Vorian surges forward, pushing past my barriers, and I feel my shoulders square, my chest pressing into his.

Dimitri doesn’t move.

Not an inch.

He simply tilts his head, studying me with that ancient, infuriating calm—like he’s watching a child throw a tantrum. His hands remain clasped behind his back, posture loose, relaxed, as if my wolf is nothing more than a breeze brushing past him.

The firelight flickers across his face, catching the faint red glow in his eyes.

He looks down at where our chests nearly touch, then back up at me with a slow, deliberate lift of one brow.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Your wolf is showing.”

Vorian snarls, the sound ripping through my throat, vibrating the air between us. I lean in harder, teeth bared, daring him to flinch.

He doesn’t. Instead, he exhales—soft, bored, dismissive. Like, I’m the one being ridiculous.

“If you’re trying to intimidate me,” he says, voice low and almost pitying, “you’ll have to try much, much harder.”

My fists clench. Heat pulses under my skin, and Vorian roars inside me.

The fire crackles.

The air thickens like a storm that is about to break.

And then—

There is a sharp, sudden pull that yanks through my chest, and I stagger. Dimitri’s eyes snapped wide as he very clearly felt the same thing that I just did.

The bond flares between the three of us — hot, bright, panicked.

Alora.

Her need slams into me like a punch to the stomach. Dimitri feels it too — I see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his hand curls at his side. For one heartbeat, we’re united in the same instinct.

Then I’m moving.

I shove past him, ripping the door open so hard it smacks the wall, probably leaving behind a hole. I don't care. Behind me, Dimitri’s voice is low, dangerous, and entirely too close.

“She’s calling us.”

I don’t look back at him because I can't deny it.

“I know.”