Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Dimitri

Gianna had been fussing over me like a mother hen, wiping blood off my chest and back. Each touch sent waves of pain through me, making me hiss like a cat in a bathtub. That furball had put up one hell of a fight. Being an enforcer, he knew exactly how to hurt a vampire, even without his oversized toothpick of a sword.

At the time, rage had been my copilot, and I hadn't felt his love bites or scratches. My only focus had been on protecting Gianna. Now? I felt like I'd gone ten rounds with a woodchipper. And lost.

Gianna came back into the room, carrying a bottle of red ointment and a clean rag like they were holy relics. "This is Elena's special mixture of healing elixir— Vitae Sanguinis . This will help you mend faster. She got this from a witch in New Orleans when we were on friendlier terms."

I eyed the bottle skeptically. For all I knew, it could be thousand-year-old ketchup. I gently clasped her wrist, quirking an eyebrow. "What's in it? Eye of newt? Toe of frog? Please tell me it's not made from puppies. I've had enough of dogs for one day."

She sighed, giving me that look that said she was reconsidering her life choices. "Dimitri, it will help you, not hurt you."

"Tell me what's in it," I pressed. "I like to know what I'm putting on my devastatingly handsome body. You understand."

"If you must know," she said, rolling her eyes, "Angelo's blood since he's the most powerful vampire in the family. Moonflower nectar, crushed dragon scales, essence of phoenix scales, and holy water. Does that satisfy your curiosity, or would you like the witch's shoe size too?"

"Angelo's blood?" I smirked, unable to resist. "Does this mean we'll be blood brothers now? Should I start practicing my brooding face? Maybe get some hair gel?"

Gianna's exasperated sigh was music to my ears. "Hold still and let me apply this before I decide to let you heal the old-fashioned way."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, settling back. "But if I start craving rare steaks and chasing cats, I'm blaming you."

As Gianna began applying the mixture, I couldn't help but wince. The concoction felt like liquid fire on my open wounds, making me grit my teeth to hold back a groan. "Holy water, huh? Feels more like holy hell water."

"That means?—"

I sucked in a sharp breath as she touched a particularly nasty gash. "Easy there, Florence Nightingale. I'd like to keep some skin intact."

Despite my best efforts to play it cool, a hiss of pain escaped me. "You know," I managed through clenched teeth, "when I imagined you running your hands all over me, this isn't quite what I had in mind."

Gianna's touch softened, her concern evident in her eyes. "Take a deep breath," she scolded. "I promise you'll feel better soon."

I forced a smirk, determined not to let the pain show too much. "Don't worry, sweetheart. It'll take more than a few scratches and some magical fire ointment to keep me down. I'm like a miller moth—persistent, drawn to trouble, and always fluttering where I'm least wanted."

As the burning sensation began to subside, replaced by a cool, soothing feeling, I couldn't help but think, if this is what it takes to keep Gianna safe, I'd endure it a thousand times over. But I'd never admit that out loud. I have a reputation to maintain, after all. Instead, I tried to chuckle, "So, does this magical goo come with a side of vampire super-strength? Because I could really use some of that right about now."

She leaned in, her lips soft against my forehead. "You need to rest now," she murmured, her breath tickling my skin .

I wanted to argue, to throw out some witty quip about vampires not needing beauty sleep. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, my body betrayed me with a bone-deep exhaustion that made even my eyelids feel heavy. My bravado melted away faster than a snowman in July.

"What, no goodnight story?" I managed to mumble, my voice lacking its usual bite. "I was hoping for The Three Little Vampires and the Big Bad Wolf . Spoiler alert: the vampires win."

Gianna shook her head, a fond smile playing on her lips. With gentle hands, she lifted my legs onto the bed. Every muscle in my body seemed to sigh in relief as I sank into the mattress.

She climbed in next to me, her body a comforting warmth against my side. "Just sleep, my brave vampire," she whispered, her voice soothing like a lullaby. "You've earned it."

"Brave, huh?" I muttered, my eyes already closing of their own accord. "Don't forget dashingly handsome and incredibly modest."

I rested my head on her warm breast, inhaling deeply. Her scent—that intoxicating mix of jasmine and spice—filled my nostrils, more comforting than any security blanket. As her fingers brushed through my hair, I felt the last of the tension seep out of my battered body.

"You know," I murmured, my words slurring slightly with encroaching sleep, "if this is the treatment I get, maybe I should wrestle werewolves more often. "

Gianna's soft chuckle was the last thing I heard as I drifted off, my dreams filled with visions of my sexy mate. And if a few defeated werewolves made cameo appearances, well, who could blame me? A vampire's got to have his fun, even in his dreams.

Someone shook me hard, their grip like iron. "Wake up, Romeo."

My eyes fluttered open, brain foggy with sleep. For a moment, I forgot where I was. A large shadow loomed over me, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Angelo towered over me like the Angel of Death. Oh, wait. I forgot. He was the Angel of Death.

I dramatically threw my arm over my forehead, squinting up at him. "What's the matter? Did someone forget to refill the blood bank? Or is it Wake Your Favorite Chauffeur day already?"

"Downstairs. We've had a break in."

Shitshitshitshit

This was it. I was so dead. Damn Petar and his half-baked schemes.

I forced a smirk, hoping it didn't look as strained as it felt. "Someone was dumb enough to break into your home? What, did they mistake it for a supernatural bed and breakfast?"

"Apparently. A witch. I need you to drive me to Simon Cartier's Ravenwood Estate. If anybody's got those items, it's that slimy bastard. He'll pay for having a witch break into my home."

Witch? Petar said he was going to frame a witch, but how the hell did he do it? I wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth though. At least Angelo's murderous gaze wasn't focused on me for once.

I scanned the bedroom. "Wait, where's Gianna?"

"Downstairs. The bridal seamstresses are coming here to have her try on her new wedding gown."

I exhaled a breath of relief and stretched, wincing slightly. "What time is it? Because if it's before noon, I'm charging overtime."

"Almost dawn. You've been asleep for almost eight hours. Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty." He slammed the door hard enough to make the windows rattle.

"No ‘How are you feeling?' No ‘Hope you're better.' Your bedside manner could use some work!" I called after him, grumbling as I hauled myself up.

Every muscle felt like it had been through a supernatural CrossFit session, but the scratches had healed. Eight hours? I'd never slept that long. But I felt as strong as the Hulk, if the Hulk were devastatingly handsome and partial to blood.

Then it hit me like a vervain-laced sledgehammer—the Solarite Ring. If I used it at dawn, I could melt those damn Malefic Puppets faster than a popsicle in hell!

Gianna and Valentin would both be safe.

Using vampire speed that would make The Flash jealous, I grabbed the ring from the pants I'd been wearing last night, grateful that it remained in the pocket through everything that happened. As I slipped it on, tingles swept up my arm like I'd stuck my finger in a very localized electrical socket.

I sauntered onto the balcony, the pre-dawn air as crisp as my patience was thin. If anyone caught me out here, I'd be a very dead, very handsome ex-chauffeur. With a smirk that would make any self-respecting villain jealous, I muttered, "Time to light up these puppets like it's the Fourth of July."

I raised the ring, channeling my inner warlock-wannabe:

"Sol ascendens, potentia crescens. Maleficium dissolvatur, puppis liberentur."

A pause for dramatic effect. "Solarite ring, do your thing!"

A stream of sunlight flickered over the ring like a cosmic spotlight. I tossed my head back, feeling like I was starring in my own supernatural shampoo commercial. My body shook, warmth spilling over me like I'd just chugged a gallon of hot blood.

Suddenly, a scream echoed through the house, loud enough to wake the dead (and in this place, that was a real possibility). I recognized it immediately—Petar's.

"Well," I muttered, a grin spreading across my face, "looks like someone's puppet show just got canceled. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

As the sun continued to rise, I couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph. Take that, Petar. This vampire's got a few tricks up his sleeve...or rather, on his finger.

The door flew open with a bang that would've made a lesser vampire jump out of his skin. "Dimitri, what the hell did you do? "

I turned around, a chuckle bubbling up from my chest. The sight before me was better than any pay-per-view event.

Petar stood there, looking like he'd lost a fight with a candle factory. Hot goo dripped down his fingers, making a plop, plop sound on the hardwood floor. Splatters of the same stuff decorated his face like the world's worst skincare routine.

My lips curled into an amused smirk. "Looks like your deadly Play-Doh dolls didn't stand up to the heat. Maybe try Legos next time? I hear they're indestructible."

He stomped over to me, leaving a trail of waxy footprints. His face was a delightful shade of pissed-off red. "What else did you steal?" He gritted his teeth and was close enough that I could smell his fear-tinged breath.

I leaned in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sorry. That's a cat burglar's secret. If you reveal my secret, then I'll tell Angelo about the mirror. And something tells me he's not big on sharing his toys."

Petar hissed like an angry tea kettle, but before he could respond, heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. It sounded like the vampire version of a stampede.

His face went from angry red to ghost-white faster than you could say busted. Angelo stormed into the room, his presence filling the space like an angry storm cloud.

"What the hell's going on in here?" His gaze swept over Petar, taking in the waxy disaster. "What the fuck happened to you?"

I chuckled. "Let me guess—surprise cake attack?"

Petar's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "The witch.... I was looking for any clues and I found some kind of doll. It blew up in my face."

"What kind of doll?" Angelo's voice could've frozen hell over.

"It looked like a voodoo doll and resembled you." Petar's voice was small, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I cocked my eyebrow, biting back a laugh. Way to throw the high priestess under the bus. But when did Petar ever show loyalty except to his own precious ass?

"Get ready, Dimitri," Angelo barked, his eyes never leaving Petar. "We're going to Simon's now."

As I moved to leave, I couldn't resist one parting shot. "You might want to hit the showers, Petar. That waxy look is so last season."

I sauntered out, feeling like the cat that got the cream, ate the canary, and framed the dog for it all. Sometimes, being the bad guy's not so bad after all.

Gianna came racing up to me, her eyes wide with concern. "Dimitri, is everything all right?" Her voice was tight with worry, making my undead heart do a little flip.

I cupped her soft cheek, my thumb tracing her cheekbone. "Everything's peachy keen, jellybean," I drawled, leaning in to capture her lips in a kiss. I savored her sweet taste, like the finest vintage blood with a hint of danger.

As I pulled back, I couldn't help but smirk, a wave of triumph washing over me. She was safe. Valentin was safe. My secret mission had paid off, and they'd never know the danger they'd been in. The thought made me want to do a victory dance right there in the hallway, but I restrained myself.

"Living the dream as always in the vampire mansion," I said instead, keeping my tone light. "You know how your brother loves his dawn raids."

I winked at her, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I've got everything under control...mostly." I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, my touch lingering. "Although, fair warning: Petar's had a bit of a...messy morning. Might want to avoid him until he's had a chance to shower."

As Angelo's impatient voice echoed from downstairs, I sighed dramatically. "Duty calls. The chauffeur never rests, apparently. Try not to miss me too much while I'm gone."

With one last quick peck on her lips, I turned to leave, throwing a final smirk over my shoulder. "Hold down the fort, sweetheart. I've got some witch hunting to do with your brother. Ain't life grand in our little slice of heaven?"

As I walked away, I couldn't help but feel a spring in my step. Mission accomplished, loved ones safe, and the bad guys taken down a peg. Not bad for a morning's work, if I do say so myself.