Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dimitri

Pain shot through me like I'd just gone ten rounds with a whiskey-soaked porcupine. Every nerve ending screamed for mercy, but hey, who was I to deny them a good time? I gripped the steering wheel of the limo, my knuckles white as I fought to stay conscious. Good thing the GPS was doing the navigating, or we might've ended up in Timbuktu instead of Crimson Manor.

The only good thing was that the damn talisman was still tucked safely in my pocket. Oh, and the minor detail that I survived the vampire king's attack. I'd celebrate with a glass of bourbon, but first, I needed to find a shirt that wasn't decorated with my own blood. Pity—this one was Italian.

The peanut gallery—a.k.a. Angelo, Gianna, Petar, and the rest of the vampire Brady Bunch —were all cozy in the back. Angelo, in his infinite brotherly wisdom, had vetoed Gianna riding shotgun with me. Heaven forbid we engage in some scandalous hand-holding or, gasp, conversation.

"Make a right turn," the GPS chirped helpfully. I smirked through the pain. At least someone was on my side, even if it was just a soulless machine. Kind of like my new boss, come to think of it.

"You know," I called over my shoulder, because self-preservation was clearly not my strong suit, "most chauffeurs get a uniform. Do I at least get a jaunty hat to go with my new bruises?"

Silence from the back. Tough crowd.

As Crimson Manor loomed ahead, a Gothic monstrosity that screamed vampire chic, I couldn't help but chuckle. From mate to punching bag to chauffeur in one day. If nothing else, my undead life was certainly keeping me on my toes.

I pulled up to the entrance, my body screaming in protest as I shifted to park. "Welcome to Chateau Bloodsucker," I announced, turning to face my passengers with my best concierge smile. "I'd offer to carry your bags, but I'm afraid my arms might fall off. Rain check?"

Gianna practically climbed over Enzo, shoving Petar out of her way as she rushed to me. My own personal Florence Nightingale, minus the lamp and plus fangs.

"He needs to park the limo in the garage and bring the luggage inside," Angelo barked behind us. He strode toward the manor, probably to practice his brooding in a mirror.

The guy was really gunning for the Asshole of the Year award. I'd send a congratulatory fruit basket, but I doubted he'd appreciate the irony.

Enzo clapped my shoulder, nearly sending me face first into the gravel. "At least you're not dead, and, best of all, you're on my team."

I tried to smile through the pain. "Yay team. Do we get jerseys?"

Angelo snapped his fingers. "Enzo, bring Gianna. She's not helping him."

Enzo turned to Gianna. "Come on."

She shook her head. "No." That's my girl, stubborn as a mule and twice as pretty.

Enzo came over, his face a mask of forced patience. "Gianna, he was planning on ripping him apart when he arrived. For now, he won't kill him, but your brother's hanging on by a thread. Don't push it."

"Go inside," I chuckled, bracing my legs apart to avoid an embarrassing face-plant. It took every ounce of vampire power I had. "I love my new job. The benefits are killer. Literally."

Enzo clasped Gianna's arm. "Please."

Angelo had stopped, probably waiting to see if Gianna would defy him. Family game night must be a blast at their house.

She broke free of Enzo's clasp and walked past Angelo, her back ramrod straight.

"Good girl," Enzo muttered. "Park the car then come inside, Romeo. "

"Right, because nothing says romance like being a punching bag and a valet," I quipped.

I forced myself back into the car, my head spinning like I'd just chugged a barrel of vervain-laced bourbon. Somehow, I managed to drive the sleek limousine into the garage without turning it into modern art. I panted in the seat, my head rocking backward. Everything spun around as if I was on a roller coaster designed by a sadistic vampire.

Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. My new mantra. Should get it printed on a T-shirt.

My hand shaking, I forced my scraped-up fingers to pop the trunk. I skidded out of the front seat and landed on my ass. Smooth, Dimitri. Real smooth.

"He sure did a number on you." Petar's voice was about as welcome as a stake to the heart.

I whipped around, ignoring the searing pain that shot through my body. My eyes locked onto Petar's, a snarl curling my lip. "Oh, look who decided to grace us with his presence. Tell me, Petar, did you enjoy the show? Take notes while Angelo used me as a punching bag?"

The selfish bastard hadn't moved his pinky to help me. Probably afraid he'd chip a nail. "Next time you feel like being a useless spectator, do us both a favor and disappear. I'd rather bathe in vervain than count on you for help." My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

My fangs itched to descend, the urge to show Petar exactly how it felt to be left helpless almost overwhelming. "You know, I'm starting to think Angelo went after the wrong vampire tonight. "

He grabbed my arm and dragged me off the floor.

"Let go of me," I growled as I leaned against the car. "I don't need help from someone who treats being a bystander like an Olympic sport."

He gave me a toothy smile. "Fine, lover boy. But don't forget our agreement. You need to get that mirror." He snapped his fingers. "Now give me the talisman, or do you want me to tell dear Angelo that you raped his sister?"

I took some angry breaths. "Gianna…would deny…it."

He shrugged. "She would, but who do you think Angelo would believe?"

The bastard had me. There was no way I could do another round with Muhammad Ali in there. He could easily kill me. With my hand shaking, I reached into my bloodied jacket and pulled out the talisman. It was still warm. I reluctantly handed it to my traitorous father.

Petar clapped his fingers over the talisman and gave me a smile that could've curdled milk. "Thank you."

With that, he sauntered out of the garage like he'd just won the lottery.

"You're welcome," I called after him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Feel free to not come back anytime." I eyed the tire iron in the trunk, briefly fantasizing about introducing it to Petar's skull. Sadly, my body felt like it had gone through a meat grinder, so vehicular vandalism would have to wait.

It took every bit of strength I had left to pull out Gianna's three pieces of luggage. What the hell were in these bags? Cement overshoes ?

I staggered along the sidewalk, pushing the stupid luggage, each step feeling like I was walking on vervain-coated Legos. The kitchen I stumbled into was bigger than my apartment. Great, I'd been demoted from vampire to Cinderella.

Gianna waited for me, worry etched on her face. Angelo stood beside her, gripping her arm like she might make a run for it. Maybe to Vegas. I hear they do great vampire weddings there.

"Let go of me," Gianna hissed at her brother, struggling like a kite in a windstorm.

Angelo's gaze swept over me, his smile reminiscent of a shark that had just spotted an all-you-can-eat buffet. I half expected him to start humming the Jaws theme.

An older woman with silver hair burst in, hands on hips. She clicked her tongue. "Angelo, did you do this?"

Unlike Angelo and Enzo, she looked like she cared about what happened to her guests. Maybe there was someone in the House of Horrors that didn't think about dissecting me. Something in her eyes, a mix of warmth and steel, reminded me of my grandmother—the only human who'd ever made me feel safe.

He shrugged like beating me to a pulp was just a normal Tuesday for him. Maybe it was. I made a mental note to avoid Tuesdays.

"He did, Elena," Gianna sniffed. "And he's my mate."

Elena shook her head as if in disgust. "Help me get him to your room, ma chère."

"He's not going to Gianna's room," Angelo growled .

I couldn't resist. "What, no sleepover? And here I thought we were bonding."

Gianna squared off with her brother. "We're mated, Angelo. I'm not sleeping away from my mate."

"The things I do for love," I muttered. "Usually it just involves holding a boombox outside a window."

Elena and Gianna half carried, half dragged me upstairs. Each step felt like climbing Everest in flip-flops. They deposited me on a bed that felt like clouds...if clouds were made of pain and regret.

As they tended my wounds, I kept my eyes on the door, half expecting Angelo to burst in like the Kool-Aid man of vengeance.

Elena went for a minute and returned with what looked like a medical kit. She moved with that fluid grace all vampires seemed to possess. Her cool hands moved efficiently, cleaning the gashes on my face and arms with what smelled like vervain-infused antiseptic. Each dab sent a stinging jolt through my body, but I bit back any sound of pain. No need to give them the satisfaction.

"This might hurt a bit," Elena warned, producing a wicked-looking needle. Great, now I was a vampire pincushion. She began stitching up a particularly nasty cut on my forearm, her fingers steady and sure.

Meanwhile, Gianna was wrapping my bruised ribs with bandages. Her touch was gentler than Elena's, almost hesitant, as if she was afraid of causing more damage. I couldn't help but tense up every time her fingers brushed my skin .

"Am I hurting you?" Gianna asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I gritted my teeth, the taste of my own blood still lingering in my mouth. "Don't worry about it. I've had paper cuts worse than this."

Elena shot me a look that was equal parts exasperation and concern, reminding me once again of my grandmother. "Less bravado, more healing," she admonished, reaching for a blood bag. "You'll need to replenish your strength. Drink this. It's Chosen Blood."

Gianna gave me a reassuring smile as she focused on finishing the bandaging, her movements becoming more confident as she worked. . "You'll feel better soon."

"Your brother doesn't—" I started.

But before I could finish my sentence of wondering if we should sleep in separate beds, Gianna silenced me with a forehead kiss. "I don't care what he thinks. You're staying."

I couldn't help but smirk. "Well, if you insist. Who am I to argue with such persuasive logic?"

I wanted to make another joke about family therapy or vampire couples counseling, but my body chose that moment to remind me it was one giant bruise.

As Gianna settled beside me, she whispered, "Sleep, Dimitri. I won't leave you. You're safe."

Elena stood in the doorway. "I'll check back soon. See that he rests, mon cher ."

Gianna gently pushed back my hair off my face. "I will." Her soft touch was like magic, easing some of the pain. Her body molded against mine as if she was trying to be a shield between and the Angel of Darkness.

Safe? With Count Dracu-loony down the hall? That's like saying you're fireproof while sitting in a volcano. But as I drifted off, I couldn't help but think, at least if I die, I'll do it in style. Take that, Romeo and Juliet. Despite my bravado, I found myself unconsciously pulling Gianna closer, my body betraying my need for comfort even as my mind raced with snarky comebacks.

The pain and fear? Just the price of admission for this little drama. But with Gianna by my side, I'd say I got a bargain. Not that I'd ever admit that out loud - I do have a reputation to maintain.

For the next several days, Elena and Gianna played tag team, keeping Count Dracu-loony off my ass. My body felt like it had been through a blender set to pulverize, but slowly, the kaleidoscope of bruises faded from deep purple to sickly yellow. Bones knitted themselves back together with all the grace of a drunk toddler playing Operation.

I lounged in bed, playing the part of the invalid with Oscar-worthy dedication. "You know," I drawled to Gianna as she fluffed my pillows for the umpteenth time, "I could get used to this. Think your brother would mind if I made professional punching bag my permanent occupation?"

She rolled her eyes, but I caught the smile she tried to hide. "Don't push your luck, Dimitri."

I waggled my eyebrows at her. "Pushing my luck is my middle name. Right after Danger and before Irresistible."

But even as I cracked jokes and milked my injuries for all they were worth, a knot of dread tightened in my gut. I knew the clock was ticking. As soon as I could walk without looking like a newborn giraffe on roller skates, I had a mission to complete.

Angelo's office. Two magical items. Steal them or face the music of Petar's big mouth. Talk about a rock and a hard place. More like a rock and a volcano full of vervain-laced lava.

I caught my reflection in the mirror across the room, wincing at the sight. "Well, don't you look like something the cat dragged in, then dragged back out, then set on fire," I muttered to myself.

Gianna's footsteps echoed in the hallway, and I schooled my features into a mask of nonchalance. She couldn't know that I was about to become a master thief. The thought of losing her made my undead heart clench in a way that had nothing to do with my physical injuries.

As she entered, I flashed her my patented smirk. "Miss me already? I know, I'm irresistible even when I look like I've gone ten rounds with a meat tenderizer."

But behind the quips and the smirks, my mind raced. How do I get into Angelo's office? How to avoid becoming a Dimitri-kabob on the wrong end of a stake? And most importantly, how to keep Gianna in the dark about the whole mess? As much as I hated to admit it, I lost my heart to her.

I sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the pillows. "You know what they say, no rest for the wicked. Or the wickedly handsome, in my case. "

Little did Gianna know, my rest was about to become a whole lot more scarce. Thievery, lies, and potentially pissing off the vampire equivalent of the Godfather ? Just another day in the life of Dimitri, vampire extraordinaire and soon-to-be cat burglar.

I eyed the door to the bedroom, my personal Everest for the coming days. Soon, I'd have to climb that mountain and dive into the shark-infested waters of Angelo's domain. But hey, who doesn't love a good suicide mission now and then? Keeps the eternal life interesting.

The thought of Gianna discovering my plan twisted my gut worse than vervain-laced bourbon. If she thought I was just using her... well, let's just say I'd rather face Angelo's wrath than see that look of betrayal in her eyes.