Page 4 of My Bloody Valentine

A dark chuckle prowls through my mind. Luka. I can feel my maker inside of me, urging me on. Usually, when he checks up on me, it feels invasive, like someone raking white-hot nails through my brain. But this time, it feels softer somehow.

There’s no denying the menace that’s behind it. That part will always be the same. Luka is, after all, a monster before all else. If I allow myself to think of him in any other way, it would be beyond foolish. He could end me with just a thought.

End you? He whispers into my mind. After all you’ve done for me? Out of all the Americans working for me, you are the most dedicated. Sales are on the rise, and that’s entirely thanks to you.

Should I take his praise for what it is? Even now the small piece of my remaining humanity screams at me, telling me I’m wrong for this. But just like always, I squash it down. Soon, I’ll never hear from my conscience again. According to Luka, that will pass with age.

What is it you want? You’ve done so much for me, and for once, I’m in a generous mood. Tell me, what do you desire? What can make you less morose? I swear you underlings whine about so many things. I sometimes regret even turning you at all.

It’s not my intent to be whiny, as he puts it. But I can’t deny the angst that’s been building. Honestly though, if he doesn’t want to know about it, then he shouldn’t be listening in.

Again, his chuckles brush through me. As if I can just turn you all off like a switch. A few at a time, sure, but I have an army of hundreds. And always, around this date, the insipid sulking rises to where it’s all I can hear. For this alone, I detest this fucking holiday. Now then, what will make you stop? What will ease this incessant pity party I feel inside you?

I think about it for a moment, not sure of what even to ask. To my knowledge, Luke’s never offered anything to anyone. I don’t want to waste this one request on something trivial or mundane.

Quickly now. I have Jackson on his knees before me, begging for my cock down his throat. You will not want me while I’m distracted.

At that moment, I glance up, noticing a bride storming into the club. Anger and hurt radiate from her body so loudly that it doesn’t take a damned empath to know she’s in a lot of emotional pain. In that instant, I know what I want.

Her.

On the other end of my mind, I can almost feel the sigh that goes through Luka. Always with companionship. One day, you will come to realize that there is more than just a good pair of tits and a pussy to slake your lusts. But you’re young. Go, do what you please with her. If you kill her, fine. If you turn her, fine. But I want to hear no more of this.

Blood pulses through my veins as Luka disappears from my mind leaving only lust and rage. I’m not sure why this lost little bride is in this club, but I aim to find out. I didn’t think I wanted someone to share my life with, and part of me still doesn’t. However, there’s something about her that calls to me like a beacon.

CHAPTER 3

Candice

I take in the crowds of people, my head pounding as the soft music, clinking glasses, and whispered conversation coalesce into one loud, throbbing noise. I’m not even drunk yet, and already I want to just puke my guts out.

Perhaps it was a mistake to come here, but I wasn’t sure where else to go. I’d heard whispers from friends about the amazing things that happen here on Valentine’s Day, but honestly, I can’t see the appeal. It looks as if there are only couples here, and I’m clearly not a couple anymore.

Sigh heavy on my lips, I turn to leave, but decide against it. There is a bar, after all. And if nothing else happens today, a stiff drink will at least help fortify me on the way home. I’m dreading going back to my shared apartment.

Will he actually do what I told him and get his stuff? The last thing I need to do is walk back in and be reminded of today. Perhaps I should take myself on a little honeymoon. You know, get away for a week or two while he sorts his shit out.

The only saving grace is that I found out about this before I married him. I can’t even imagine having to untangle myself from him financially if we got a divorce. And if he’s this much of an asshole to cheat on me on my wedding day, I don’t doubt he’d make the whole splitting up an onerous affair.

Lifting the sides of my dress, I squeeze myself through the tables, ignoring the soft gasps and whispers as I make my way to the bar. Let them talk. I’m beyond caring at this point.

“Strongest drink you got.”

The bartender stares at me for a moment. “I’m not sure you can handle my strongest.” Her eyes slide over to the side, looking at someone else.

Next to me, a man strides over, his body moving with such grace, such fluidity, that I have to blink a few times to make sure I’m seeing him correctly. No one with those types of muscles should be able to move like that.

“She’ll have a Fallen Angel,” he murmurs beside me, flashing me a smile.

“No,” I call out, stopping the bartender. “I will not. Give me whatever. Just make it taste good, so it goes down smooth but gives a good buzz.”

She looks between the man and I for a moment before busying herself behind the bar. “You should have taken the Fallen Angel,” he tsks, winking at me. “It has everything you just asked for and then some.”

“I didn’t ask for your help or your opinion.” He frowns at me, and for some reason, my stomach flops about at his reaction. Not out of fear or anything like that, but something else. “Look, you didn’t deserve that. It’s been a rough night.”

With another smirk, he looks me up and down. “That seems like an understatement. Tell me,” he leans in, his eyes capturing mine. “What do you really need? A drink? Or a way to forget?”

There’s something mesmerizing in the way he looks at me. I can’t explain it, but feelings stir inside me. They’re so new, so unfamiliar. Not even Grant made my heart race like this before.