Free Blood Possession by Tessa Dawn Page B

understand. “She is my wife.”
    Angus slumped against the wall. “Oh, hell…shit…look…I’m sorry. I never meant…I just…” His eyes bounced around the room haphazardly, unable to meet Napolean’s scrutinizing gaze. “Look, man, I’m sick. Really, I didn’t…I never meant to hurt her. I mean, it’s just…honestly, I’m glad Brookie finally found someone…nice…like you. She was always such a good girl.” He nodded furiously, clearly so frantic to talk his way out of the situation that he would say just about anything—however absurd. “What…what’s your name? I mean, I’d really like to be friends…you and me. It’s probably best for Brooke…so I can make amends…with you…you know, together—”
    “Shh.” Napolean placed his finger over Angus’s mouth. “I’m afraid I have very little time for new friends these days.” He ran his tongue over his fangs and smiled.
    Angus whimpered like a wounded animal—the pitiful sound growing increasingly high-pitched and desperate—as Napolean bent ever so slowly to his neck to enact his final wrath. In one feline motion, Napolean ripped out the human’s larynx with his teeth and spit the hunk of flesh on the ground. “I have been called many things over the years; however, nice is not one of them.”
    Stunned, Angus grasped at his throat. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle as he choked.
    Napolean did not prolong the end.
    He drove his fist through Angus’s chest, extracted the still-beating heart, and held it up before him. “My name is Napolean.” He tossed the offensive organ aside and watched as Angus’s life slipped away. “But my enemies call me justice .”
    As the heartless body toppled to the floor—a worthless heap of blood and flesh—Napolean withdrew his spirit from the room. He entered the same swirling vortex he had followed to get there and swiftly traveled back…
    Back to his body.
    Back to the SUV.
    Back to the avenged destiny that awaited him.

six
    Brooke held the steaming cup of tea in her hands and tried to control her trembling. The last thing she needed was to scald herself with a hot brew of chamomile, mint, and jasmine tea. She risked a glance at the imposing figure sitting across from her in a huge, dark blue chair—the size of a love seat—and quickly looked away.
    He was just too intimidating. The entire situation was just too horrifying. Here she was, in the heart of the Dark Moon Forest, sitting in the living room of a fierce stranger’s mansion, afraid to speak…afraid to remain silent. She decided to distract herself by studying the details of the room...
    The ceiling was an intricate dome of moldings, textures, and coffers, framing a hand-painted mural of Zeus and Apollo seamlessly crafted onto the grayish-blue canvas. The furniture was exquisite, plush, and clearly custom-made, no doubt costing more than her entire house, and there were tastefully placed art nooks as far as the eye could see, each one boasting a softly lit treasure from an evident time gone by, many of the possessions undoubtedly priceless artifacts.
    The windows were made of frosted glass, also adorned with scenes from battlements and pictures of what appeared to be Greek or Roman gods, each depiction etched beautifully into the glass.
    For a psychopathic lunatic—who thought he was a vampire—the man had incredible taste. And obviously, a shitload of money. Brooke cleared her throat and gathered her courage. “So…” The word came out hoarse, so she cleared her throat, steadied her hands, and tried again. “ So .”
    Her kidnapper, who called himself Napolean Mondragon, leaned forward in his chair, his every movement graceful and smooth like that of a predatory animal. “So?” he repeated.
    Brooke forced a smile. So far, he hadn’t killed her, molested her… or tried to bite her neck. Rather, he had offered her a blanket, kindled a fire in the enormous hearth, and brought her a steamy cup