This chapter is intense with graphic violence.
29 bottles of blood on the wall, 29 bottles of blood, take one down, pass it around, 28 bottles of blood on the wall.
28 bottles of blood on the wall, 28 bottles of blood, take one down, smash it around, 27 bottles of blood on the wall.
27 bottles of blood on the wall, 27 bottles of blood, drink it down, throw it away, 26 bottles of blood on the wall.
The song hummed through Jagger's head, his eyes closed.
"26 bottles of blood on the wall, 26 bottles of blood, chug it down, smash it on your head, 25 bottles of blood on the wall," his voice was barely a whisper as he opened his eyes, meeting Valentina's icy glare.
He tilted his head, "You look really gross."
The witch scowled, pacing the room for the 394th time. Jagger had nothing else to do so he'd resorted to counting and it was quite entertaining. She looked completely flustered, mumbling incoherently to herself. Jagger would've been concerned under any other circumstance but at the moment, tied to a chair, he didn't give a flying rat's ass if she was crazy.
"Did you know vampires can't get migraines?" He spoke suddenly, drawing her attention.
"What does that have to do with any of this?" She snapped, her voice ringing with irritation.
He shrugged, "Everything. Because I have a fucking migraine and I'm a vampire. It should really be impossible but you've managed to succeed."
Valentina rolled her eyes, "You never shut up do you?"
A smirk graced his lips, licking his lips, "Never."
He was more than a little happy to see he still had some affect on her. Her cheeks reddened to the smallest degree.
"Your charm doesn't work on me anymore, vampire. Shut up," she glared at him and his smile became taunting.
"Oh, Valentina," her name rolled off his tongue smoothly, laced with charisma. "You know that's not true."
Valentina tilted her head slightly, curiosity peeking in her eyes, "Does this work on your little wolf?"
Any hint of amusement dropped at the mention of his best friend. Valentina quickly picked up on this, and mentally scolded herself for not using the girl to bait him.
"Is that why she's so desperate to save you? You've put a spell on her," Valentina inched toward him, her fingers curled around the base of a blade.
His eyes shot down to it, the iron. It glinted in the light as it neared his chin, burning when it brushed his skin.
A cruel smile made its way to Valentina's lips as she circled him, dragging the blade down his throat. He bit back a hiss of pain when it dug into him.
"No, that doesn't quite make sense," she tsked. "Werewolves don't fall for that. Mmm, what could it be?"
The way she spoke was as if she already knew and the thought threw Jagger off balance. For once, he didn't have any smart remark. He felt paralyzed as she crept closer and closer to the truth he'd refused to accept himself.
Valentina's lips brushed his ear, "Perhaps it's she who has a spell on you, dear Jagger. Is that it?"
A growl emanated from his chest, his hands slipping further out of the bonds on his wrist. The idiot wolves had used silver, as if it affected him like it did them.
"Do you love her? Is that why you keep throwing yourself in harm's way?" Valentina cackled at the realization, shaking her head. "Who would've thought the downfall of the infamous Jagger would be a wolf? You've lost your touch, Jagger. Why would you risk everything for her? She's nothing, a speck in this godforsaken world."
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