Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 76 - 78

Chapter 76: Chapter 78

I reach for my bags, but Silas intercepts me, his hand cutting through the air in a swift, commanding motion. Without a word, he takes my luggage, shouldering the weight I’m ready to bear alone.

Luciano is the first to fold, pulling me into a firm hug that lingers longer than expected. He pulls back with a faint smile, and dad steps in next, granting me his approval in the form of a brisk but solid embrace.

Silas stays silent, his grip on my suitcase steady as he escorts me to the car. The driver emerges, dressed in crisp black, opening the trunk to stow my luggage and leaving Silas and me a moment to ourselves.

"You’re sure about this?" Silas asks, his gaze searching mine.

"If you’re not, why let me go?" I counter, tilting my head to meet his eyes.

"Nothing good comes from holding on too tightly," he says, his voice softening, a rare vulnerability creeping into his words. "Not even on your baby sister. Who will always be the little bastard who cried over me spilling coke on her yellow dress."

I punch his arm, and he stumbles back with a grin, feigning injury.

"Spilled? You threw the can at me! And it wasn’t just any dress—it was my favorite dress!"

His laughter trails behind him as he retreats toward the house.

The driver opens the back door of the SUV, ignoring the discomfort flaring between my legs as I slide into the backseat, and the driver closes the door behind me.

"Still walking funny?"

My head whips to stare back at Botan, looking back at me with curious amusement.

I free a tortured groan. "If they did notice. They never commented on it—not that I gave them time to."

His eyes remain fixated on me as fails to stifle a smile.

"Is my pain amusing to you?" I ask.

He smiles, and it only inspires my own.

"I mean, I didn’t even have it all the way in."

I almost choke on my saliva.

"You think you’d be walking at all if I did?" A hint of heat in his eyes. "It’s like I said, I didn’t want to hurt you and the way you were so tight... I had to hold back."

"So what, you thought I couldn’t take it?"

"I know you can take it," he says swiftly. "But this way, where we are going...no one will hear your screams for miles."

Botan POV

The private flight from the States to France—11 hours.

And now we glide through the French countryside. My Bella, my Belle, sleeps soundly, sprawled across the backseat with her head cradled in my lap. My hand weaves through the cascade of her hair, silken strands spilling over her shoulders like a dark river. My touch lingers, descending the gentle curve of her arm as my fingers trace the story immortalized on her skin. A giddy warmth swells within me, stirring the boyish thrill of that first, unguarded moment we shared.

It rushes back, unbidden and vivid: raw and unplanned. Her stretch marks, those exquisite strokes of nature’s art, rippling over her hips like whispers of the earth’s shifting tides, leading to her center. The dark patch there, untouched, felt sacred—a landscape only I was privileged to explore. A bashful smile tugs at my lips as I recall the moment her world opened to me, birthing a universe I never imagined could exist, consuming me in an inferno that sears her name into my soul.

"Why are you smiling?"

My eyes jump to her strained slits, fighting off sleep.

She turns her head so she can look directly into my eyes—dewy and dark like black suns that radiate warmth, filling me with light.

"I have everything I’ve ever wanted... so it’s difficult not to."

"Interesting," she says thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Vance once said something similar."

A spark of anger flares like flint against steel, sharp and fleeting, smothered instantly by her playful grin.

"I swear, if you mention one of them again—"

Before I can finish, I lift her top just enough to expose the curve of her waist and launch a merciless assault of tickles. She cries out in helpless laughter, thrashing and twisting beneath my hands, her movements frantic and futile as she tries to escape.

"I’m sorry! I’m sorry!" she gasps between bouts of breathless giggles, her voice like music.

I relent, leaning back. Envy and something darker churn like acid, burning through my thoughts. My chest tightens under its weight until a sudden motion pulls me back to the moment.

She rises, planting one hand firmly on the seat beside me, her face so close I can feel the heat of her breath against my skin. My pulse stammers at the disorienting proximity, my will bending precariously under the strain of her nearness.

"What, are you angry at me now?" she asks, her voice laced with teasing, but there’s an edge to it—a smoky, magnetic undertone that snags on every vulnerable thread inside me.

She moves her head and grips my gaze with a single slant. "I will tell you what I told them—that my heart already belongs to another. This situation... the Vacherons. I didn’t choose them, but I did choose you... for better or for worse."

My eyes flit back to her. She leans closer and I succumb as I allow her sumptuous lips to touch my cheek—a burst of sunlight. I take her chin to claim her lips in a tender kiss, igniting a flicker of something feral inside me when her hand slips into my shirt, snaking over my shoulder to cradle the nape of my neck. My hands slink underneath the waistband of her skirt, roaming her bare thighs until my fingers tease the lacy fabric of her underwear and a moan tumbles down my throat as she jostles at even the lightest of movements.

She begins to pull away as the car slows to a cruise. I grab her jaw and she giggles when I steal one last kiss before I allow her to savour the scenery beyond. She lays back down with the side her head resting on my chest, nestled in my arms as she watches the palace rise into view. Its spires stretch toward the heavens, adorned with intricate, metallic filigree that gleams under the sun like liquid gold. The staff, including the steward and security, wait patiently and professionally, cresting the colossal staircase.

The car rounds the wide, crescent-shaped driveway encircles a marble fountain carved with mythical creatures, water cascading gracefully over their forms. Avara perks up, enthralled. Even when the car comes to a complete stop, she still doesn’t move. Shortly, the backseat door on my side opens first. I climb out so I can offer her my hand—she takes it and when she threads her fingers with my own, I can’t silence the sparks skittering through my veins, making my hand almost feel numb.

Avara ogles the central tower, its pointed peak encased in crystalline panels that sparkle like enchanted ice. With a curt whisper, the steward deploys two guards to retrieve the luggage from the trunk.

"This place it’s..." words fail her.

"You like it?" I prompt.

"Like it? It’s magical—something out of a fairytale!"

So excited, she pulls me forward, leading me up the steps as the staff dips their heads in deferential bows as we approach—not at me—at her. The steward follows at a distance first before the staff falls in, then security.

Stepping inside, the grandiose entrance hall is an opulent convergence of gothic and contemporary. A vaulted ceiling arcs high overhead, with ribbed beams of black steel softened by gilded trim. A sweeping marble staircase dominates the space. The floor is a mosaic of onyx and ivory, depicting a rose in full bloom with a crystalline chandelier like a frozen cascade, refracting light in an ever-changing radiance.

I don’t even take her on a tour. We pursue each tug of desire where her whims stray. Suddenly, her hand jerks out of my own and I refrain from recapturing it when I see she has set her sights on the library. Her head whips back to me with comically wide eyes, gaping, her eyes on me as if seeking permission. Grinning uncontrollably, I send a nod and she scurries off, affording the steward and I a private moment as we follow without haste.

"Is everything prepared?" I question.

"Everything you requested from the dress to the dinner. She’ll love it," Martha adds reassuringly. She comes over to loop her arm with mine to give it a motherly tap. "Every woman would."

My eyes wander back, staring at her distant figure wistfully.

"Botan... does she know?"

My smile dissolves.

"I’ll take that as a no. She has to know."

"Does she?" I blurt thoughtlessly.

She gives my bicep another pat—this one reprimanding before she retracts her arm. "You know better than that. At least I would hope so. Look, Avara is a gentle spirit, but she has her mother’s blood. It will hurt her, but it won’t break her."

The thought of the truth needles my heart. "It won’t, but it will break us apart."