“I’m sorry,” he ground out as his fangs descended and he took a few more steps forward. “I’m certain I must have misunderstood.”
“Well you can’t misunderstand this,” I retorted as I pushed Raquel back and landed a serious punch to his throat. It should have collapsed his esophagus, but his power and age made regular incapacitating blows difficult.
Vlad grunted and gagged, but recovered in seconds. He retaliated swiftly with a crushing blow to the side of my head. He may be older and more powerful, but I was fighting for something I loved—all he had was hate. I staggered back and waited for him to make the next move.
“Hello boys,” Raquel interrupted in a shout, taking both Vlad and I by surprise. Her skin glowed iridescent and her voice dripped false sweetness. “Before we get into it—which I’m sure will be delightful—I wasn’t quite done insulting Dracula.”
“Do. Not. Call. Me. That,” Vlad bellowed. His entire body began to sparkle ominously.
“Whoops,” Raquel apologized with a giggle. “You’re old age must be catching up with you. I said… that Juliet won’t kill me.”
“Losing the curse and mating with someone far beneath you must have addled your brain,” he replied, shaking his head in mock sorrow as he glared at her. “I heard you clearly. You simply don’t make sense.”
“Oh but I do,” she replied as she crossed the room and took Juliet’s hand in hers.
Raquel pulled her away from Vlad as he watched, growling low in his throat. They stopped inches from me. The bastard observed in confusion as Juliet wrapped her arms around Raquel and hugged her lovingly.
Jesus, I was glad I knew Jean Paul was her brother. Anyone touching my mate besides family at this point was going to die.
“Juliet, come back here immediately. You will be very sorry for this,” Vlad warned.
“Actually, I won’t,” Juliet replied as she flipped him her middle finger and seamlessly morphed back into Jean Paul.
He wore the same bloody bruises that he’d acquired as Juliet. He was not in his best form and I wanted him to leave. Vlad’s roar of displeasure blew out the sidewall of the room. Things were picking up and Jean Paul was in no shape to fight.
“Transport out,” I ordered tersely.
“Not on your life,” he snapped, his French accent heavier in his fury. “I get a piece of that fucker.”
“Heathcliff’s right,” Raquel implored her brother. “Go. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said challenging both his sister’s and my authority.
“Fine,” I ground out as I pressed my wrist to his mouth. “Drink.”
“Are you done over there?” Vlad asked, pulled himself back together with difficulty. “I’m getting bored with your idle chatter. I have places to go and people to kill.”
“You have choices, Vlad,” I said carefully.
Jean Paul drank quickly and his open wounds began to close. Sadly, I was certain he would have more open wounds shortly. We all probably would. A violence-free ending wasn’t in the cards… but one could certainly try.
“You’re giving me choices, guard?” he sneered. “That’s rich.”
“The Angels know everything. Roberto was in the room with you and our Juliet. Your days are numbered. If you cooperate now, your punishment might be swift instead of long and drawn out as the Angels are wont to do.”
“Do I look like an imbecile to you?” Vlad inquired caustically. His eyes blazed green with hatred and insanity.
“Debatable,” I answered honestly, with a grin.
With great effort Vlad swallowed his retort and casually took a seat on the couch. He turned on a dime and behaved as if he’d come for a civil visit. The tension in the room was palpable, but he studiously ignored it.
Smoothing out his blood spattered evening coat, he checked the sharpness of his fangs with his fingertips. Seemingly satisfied, he crossed his legs and made himself comfortable—he then made a huge show of counting us.
“One, two, three of you… and only one of me,” he confirmed aloud. “I don’t think that’s fair.”
“Seriously?” Raquel asked with a wrinkled nose and disgusted snort.
“Quite, my dear,” he purred. “However, I’m far more powerful than the three of you put together. So let me tell you how this will play out.”
He paused and removed several knives from his jacket pocket. Placing them on the coffee table in front of him, he pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and went to work cleaning his weapons.
“First I will kill your guard. I don’t like that he has tasted what is mine. And Heathcliff, your reputation as a deadly warrior will be such a delight to disprove.”
His laugh was purely to goad me, but I was far smarter than that. Timing would be everything.
“It will be your punishment, Raquel—to watch him die. Next will be the one who fooled me.” He glanced over at Jean Paul and showed him his fangs. “I’m going to rip your head from your body… with my teeth. And then I will have you, Raquel. Unfortunately for you it will only be once as I will burn you to ash when I’ve had my fill.”
“That’s an ambitious list,” I commented as I took the seat across from him. “My goal is far more attainable.”
“Really?” he inquired not looking up from cleansing his knives. “And what’s on your agenda this fine evening?”