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Vale
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Vale woke to the blank space of a white wall and a throbbing headache. His eyes focused in and out, the pain in his head blurring his vision. This was something new and entirely unwelcome. He wanted to rip his brain out and slam it against the wall, if only that were possible.
He couldn’t remember anything from last night after falling asleep—it was almost as if he had woken from hibernation. After he blinked a few times, the pain faded.
The day was new, yet something did not feel right. He rolled over to wake his lovely Bride, but found she was not there beside him. The covers were pulled back, revealing a cold and empty spot.
She normally woke him by nibbling on his neck. What the fuck was going on? He forcefully slapped the empty spot when a thought crossed his mind. Elise Rodriguez had come back to herself. What if...
No. Impossible.
He pushed himself out of the bed, throwing the door open so hard it crashed and broke into the wall. Without a pause, he raced down the steps and called, “Bride?”
Nothing. No answer.
Vale brought a hand to his chest. If his heart could beat, it would have exploded with fury—this could not be happening. It was not happening.
He searched everywhere, including the front and backyard. Then he thought maybe she had gone downstairs to the basement, to relive the bloodshed. Opening the door, he hurried down the steps and found nothing except burned down candles.
Vale rushed to the living room where Red was sprawled across the couch, snoring quietly with a line of drool trailing down her cheek. What an insignificant waste of space. He could not understand what his father ever found in her that was worth saving.
“Red!” he roared as he approached her.
The immortal’s eyes burst open and almost popped out of their sockets. He then slammed his hand around her throat, tightening his grip. Red’s eyelids fluttered as the air in her lungs cut off. She clawed at his chest, but he only squeezed harder.
“Where is she?” he demanded, his voice low, frenzied.
She only shook her head and gripped the couch cushions, those filthy nails of hers digging in. Lifting her by the neck with one hand, he flung her to the floor.
Red brought her hands to her throat and lurched forward. “What was that for?” she seethed.
Vale sauntered toward her, prepared to rip her apart in the slowest way possible. She was no innocent—after her mortal death, she had come to the Underworld after all. He knelt beside her, fastening his gaze on hers. “Now, where is she?”
“The Bride?”
“Who the fuck else would I be talking about?” Vale growled.
Red had to go soon—she had irritated him since day one. She was a tick that would not go away, a parasite that had found its way into his father’s bedroom. If he could dispose of her without consequence, he would do it in an instant.
“I don’t know. I saw her earlier this morning when I was heading to the basement,” she stuttered, running her hands through her hair, trying to press it down. “I assumed she went back upstairs with you.” He could sense by the way she said the last word, she was not as nervous as she was pretending to be. In fact, she seemed elated to find out the Bride was gone.
Fiery flames coursed within his veins, sewing their way throughout his entirety. His anger wanted to come out and play a vicious little game with Red.
“Where did she go?” His voice was a calm, deadly whisper.
Her mouth hung open, and he could see her tongue stroking the inside of her cheek. If she did not come up with a good answer, he was going to cut it out and make her choke on it.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I warned you that you were becoming too attached to her, didn’t I?”
Running a finger through one of Fannie’s curls, he gave it a hard yank and she yelped. “If I do not find her, I am going to rip this red hair, you so dearly cherish, out piece by piece and then move on to different body parts. Isn’t that the way you like to torture your victims out here?”
“I understand.”
“If you find her before I do, your punishment will be lessened a fraction.” Vale whirled away from Red, then stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “And clean those nails of yours, you disgust me.”
Fists tightened, he burst through the front door and out into the daylight. The sun’s rays beamed down on him as he ground his teeth. The answer he did not want to think about earlier was there once again. He knew without a doubt his Bride was gone and replaced with Perrie Madeline.
The anger inside him needed to be released. Vale threw his fist into the first thing he came into contact with—the tree cracked under the powerful blow. He smacked his fist against the trunk over and over, watching bright crimson leak from his knuckles. Chest heaving, he lifted his hand and studied the red liquid as it trickled to the ground. The sight of his blood relaxed him for a moment. He swore to himself then and there that he would find Perrie Madeline.
The Glass Vault would have enough souls very soon, giving him the power to locate her. He would rip Perrie Madeline apart, then put her back together again and again, until she became his Bride once more.
It was impossible for him to love, but what he felt for the Bride, what he did not know he could feel, was stronger than anything he had ever experienced. She was his and only his, and he knew with everything in himself that he belonged to her.
