“You don’t have to do this,” Bell moved his lips. No sound came out, but he was sure the young man understood him.
He frowned then dropped his radiant black eyes to the mark on Bell’s throat.
“My cherished is real and true. The king has great gifts. He won’t hurt you.”
“Hey!” Alessandro flashed to him from the center of the hub and grabbed the adolescent vampire Bell had been trying to work on, and threw him across the floor until his back slammed into the wall. He crumpled into a heap on the floor before slowly getting to his feet and dusting himself off. The others didn’t interject or go over to help, instead they turned their backs on him. “Trying to work on my team with those pretty eyes of yours.”
Bell hissed when Alessandro ran the pad of his thumb along his mouth and chin. He smoothed his hand up his face, over his forehead and into his tangled tresses. Hate clouded his eyes as he stared at the stark white streak.
“Ya know.” Alessandro leaned in so close he could smell the stench of greed and deceitfulness all over him. “They say your family was touched by one of the Gods long ago. Is that true?” he asked matter-of-factly, “That’s the myth behind your streak of long white hair.”
Bell had heard the rumors and tall tales himself. All nonsense. One of his ancestors had been struck by lightning, which had turned every strand of his hair as white as snow. Over the generations, the trait had faded, but not completely. Bell doubted that that lightning bolt had been sent by a god. None of the men in his family had ever displayed any abilities. However, Bell didn’t answer. He just wanted that motherfucker to stop touching him.
“I happen to come from a great line of conquerors myself. We have that in common, Belleron. Both descendants of greatness,” Alessandro continued. “My brother was the first to start this revolution, and I will finish it for him so his death will not be in vain. I was expecting the king himself to come marching in with his troops the second I committed this treasonous crime, but instead he sent you to do his dirty work. Just goes to show how much he cares about you. But, no worries, when he sees the state you’re in, I’ll demand he come himself to negotiate your release. Once I have Chadwick Bentley separated from his fake beloved, I’m going to drive my blade through his cold heart before I take his head off. Then his wolf mate will die a slow and painful death in isolation. My plan is quite brilliant. I don’t even have to concern myself with the Volkovs. They create their own self-destruction by mating and sealing their lives to another.
“Now it appears they’ve done it to you too. Our coveted Lord High!” Alessandro spoke loudly. “The king convinced another of our kind—one of our best leaders and our biggest advocates—to bond with a shifter! Damnit. I say no more!”
The vampires cheered.
“As you can see, we’re not going to continue to stand for it! Every old and new vampire you see before you despises these unions and is ready to fight for our natural way of life. I didn’t have to persuade them. They’re all smart enough to know that just because a vampire fucks a wolf doesn’t make it his mate, and it sure as hell doesn’t turn it into a beloved. You mock our culture with these vile lies and revolting breeding. If you were truly mated to a Volkov wolf then I wouldn’t’ve been able to capture—and soon kill you—so easily.”
Being subdued by two hundred vampires wasn’t easy. Bell had to keep the guilt and regret at bay for not listening to Alek when he’d said Bell would be stronger if they were together. Now look what he’d done. Why hadn’t he listened? It was too late now to fret over wrong decisions. He only wished he could’ve said goodbye. The thought of never seeing Alek’s soft, pretty blue eyes again revived and ignited a different type of fury inside him.
“Conquerors rise… and they fall. As will you,” Bell cited through clenched teeth and bloodied lips. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, because when Alessandro yanked Bell’s blade from its sheath, he knew he’d gone a step too far.
He turned his head to the side when the blinding flash from a camera went off in his face. One of the minions kept taking multiple shots of him from various angles. “Got it,” he said, checking the screen.
“Good. Get it uploaded immediately, and sent to the king. Let him know he has exactly twenty-four hours to come here and face me, or Belleron dies.” Alessandro surveyed the sharp blade. “You killed many of my men before you were pinned down. You made a formidable adversary with this weapon. Now… it’s mine.”