The much anticipated next Night 11 page beat like a trip-hammer.
“I love you, Leila, and nothing else
matters.”
I never knew joy could be a physical
sensation, but I wasn’t imagining the wave
that swept me from head to toe. My throat
contracted, my chest swelled, and my
fingers tingled. Meanwhile, something
long broken in my soul seemed to snap
back in place, and though I didn’t feel it
physically, it was just as real—and
powerful.
“I love you, too, Vlad.”
I would have said more, except his
mouth scorched mine with a kiss so
passionate, I couldn’t breathe. It was hard
to even think beyond a fervent, jumbled
mantra of loveyouneedwantyou!
He lifted his head and, incredibly,
stopped me when I began unbuttoning his
shirt.
“No time for that,” he muttered.
I was incredulous. “You have more
important things to do?”
I didn’t. In fact, if my nipples got any
harder, the fabric would split where my
robe rubbed over them.
He looked down as if judging for
himself and a harsh noise escaped him.
“Not more important, but we’re both
going to be very busy until the ceremony
tonight.”
“Ceremony?” What ceremony?
The smile he flashed me was part
amused and part feral. “Our wedding
ceremony.”
I had a split second when I thought,
This is all a dream. It had to be, because
he did not just say we were getting
married tonight.
“I didn’t agree to that.”
His smile vanished. “You’re saying
no?”
“No. Er, not no, but not, you know . . .”
I knew I wasn’t making sense, yet my
mind was whirling with joy, shock, and
disbelief. At the same time, the rational
part of me snapped, Get a grip, Leila!
One more sputter and I’d magically
transform into a nineteenth-century
Southern belle, fanning myself while
gasping, “This is all so sudden!”
I gave myself a mental shake and tried
again.
“I know my misunderstanding of the
ring thing before led to our breakup, but as
I said then, it wasn’t about angling for a
proposal. It was about you being open to
love—”
He laughed, which stopped me midsentence
because it wasn’t his sensual
chuckle or even his disdainful, I-mockyou-
with-my-superiority laugh. It was
something new, and if I had to label it, I’d
say it had You’re in for it now written all
over it.
“What did you think would happen
when you made me realize I’d fallen in
love with you? I’d want to date more? Get
engaged to be engaged?”
Another laugh that made gooseflesh
ripple over me despite the heat from his
body. Then his laughter faded away and he
leaned down until his mouth was
millimeters from mine.
“As if I’d settle for anything less than
making you completely mine, as soon as
possible.”
He was so close his features were a
blur, yet his eyes had never gleamed
brighter. I closed mine and it made no
difference. I could still see his through the
shield of my lids.
“I am yours,” I whispered, and it wasn’t
only a statement. It was a promise.
As I spoke, I rubbed against him,
craving more than his hands on me. For a
blistering few moments, he complied,
kissing me with such intensity that my
knees buckled. When I began unbuttoning
his shirt again, he drew away, his lips
curled into a sensually cruel smile.
“Not unless you marry me.”
My mouth dropped. “You’re using sex
as blackmail?”
That smile widened. “Whoever told you
I played nice?”
My lips twitched but this was too
serious to joke about. “I do want to marry
you, Vlad. Tonight is too soon, but—”
“Why?”
Not a hint of humor colored the
question. Belatedly, I realized he was
serious. With that knowledge, my inner
antebellum Southern belle burst to the
surface.
“Because all of this is so sudden!”
After an outburst that even Scarlett
O’Hara would scorn, I tried to explain in
a more articulate manner.
“I’d want our wedding to be special. I
don’t have a dress, you don’t have a best
man, and instead of flowers, we have
corpses on poles decorating the front of
the house.”
“Flowers are on the way, as is my best
man, three seamstresses are ready to make
any dress you desire, and I’ll have the
corpses taken down,” he replied without
missing a beat.
If he had seamstresses standing by plus
flowers and a best man on the way, he
wasn’t just serious about wanting to get
married tonight. He was planning on it.
A colossal tug-of-war began inside me.
I loved Vlad and I wanted to spend the
rest of my life with him; I had no doubts
about that. His arrogance and complexity
would drive me up a wall, plus I’d never
get used to his impalement habit; I had no
doubts about that, either. Would a long
engagement change any of the above? No,
but the saying “Marry in haste, repent at
leisure” was famous for a reason . . .
“Did I mention I honor the custom of
paying a bride price?” he asked in a
casual tone, as if his gaze hadn’t narrowed
while listening to my thoughts.
“In case you aren’t familiar, a bride
price is where the groom bestows a gift to
his new wife,” he went on. “The gift is
supposed to reflect the value a groom
places on his bride. Because of your value
to me, no matter what you asked for, if it
was in my power to grant, it would be
yours.”
I’d stiffened upon first hearing his
description, insulted that Vlad thought he
could overcome my concerns with money.
Then he caressed the words of that last
sentence until they shone as brightly as the
apple the serpent offered Eve. What did
he think I wanted? He loved me—that had
been my biggest wish, and I didn’t
remember singing “Material Girl” around
him lately . . .
Comprehension dawned. Anything in
his power to grant, no matter what it was.
You MERCILESSLY diabolical man, I
thought, aghast and admiring at the same
time.
“Let me guess—you don’t pay up until I
marry you?”
A sly smile curled his lips. “Correct.”
“You really don’t play nice when it
comes to something you want, do you?” I
breathed.
His eyes gleamed. “You have no idea.”
A promise and a threat. That described
my decision now, which held the hope of
incredible bliss as well as the potential
for irreparable heartbreak.
“You told me you wanted to marry me,”
I said, voice throaty from all my surging
emotions. “You didn’t ask me.”
He probably hadn’t noticed. To him,
there wouldn’t be much difference
between the two, and that exemplified so
many issues in our relationship. See? You
can’t marry him tonight or any other
night, you two will NEVER last! my inner
voice snapped.
Vlad stared at me, copper swallowing
up his gaze until not a trace of emerald
remained. Then, his expression the same
mixture of challenge and invitation, he
slowly knelt before me.
“Leila Dalton, my one true love, will
you do me the honor of becoming my
wife?”
I might’ve brought Vlad to his knees at
last, but in so many ways, he would never
bend. I knew that as surely as I knew I’d
always love him, and it left me with only
one answer.
“Yes, Vlad, I will marry you. Tonight.”
My hated inner voice had never steered
me right before. I’d be damned if I started
listening to it now.
Chapter 27
Inow knew what Vlad had been busy
with yesterday when he hadn’t come to
see me: preparing for a wedding I hadn’t
known about yet. He hadn’t been kidding
about the seamstresses, the flowers, or
anything else. His staff hustled about with
blurring speed, setting up decorations,
making enough food for an army judging
from the chaos near the kitchen, and
putting out so many candles that the nearby
countryside would soon suffer from a wax
shortage. Unlike the frostiness I’d
experienced before, Vlad’s people were
all smiles now, and if one more person
bowed to me, I’d expect a tiara to
magically sprout from my head.
But before picking a dress or any of the
other items on my now-urgent to-do list, I
had to talk to my family. All my family,
even the vampire I shared no biological
ties to.
Vlad sat next to me in the Tapestry
Room. Images of medieval life, battles,
and nature were intricately woven into the
huge wall coverings. The ceiling had
interior boxes carved into designs that
mirrored scenes from the tapestries. The
effect was stunning, but I didn’t think my
father appreciated it at the moment. He
was staring at me with the same horror I’d
seen on people’s faces right before they
were executed.
“You’re marrying him tonight?”
Gretchen, for once, was more urbane.
“That explains why everyone’s running
around like you set their asses on fire.”
Marty’s face was carefully blank, but
his gaze flicked between me and Vlad in a
way that could hardly be called joyous.
“Why the rush?” Gretchen asked. Then
she stared at my midsection. “You’re not
pregnant, are you?”
“Vampires are incapable of
impregnating humans,” I said.
Relief crossed my father’s face but I
was ambivalent. Even if Vlad was human,
I’d known since my teens that I couldn’t
have children. No baby could survive in
my high-voltage body.
Then my father’s features hardened.
“You can’t expect my blessing on this
disastrous mistake.”
The words were directed at me, but
Vlad responded.
“I wouldn’t insult you by asking. We
both know you disapprove and we both
know that I don’t care. Leila’s opinion is
the only one that matters and she said
yes.”
My father cast a calculated look at the
items on the silver serving tray in front of
him. Vlad flashed him a charming smile.
“You’d never succeed.”
For a second, I didn’t understand. Then
my mouth fell open.
“Dad! You were not thinking of
stabbing my fiancé with a silver knife!”
Marty leapt over to my father. “Hugh,
you need to settle down,” he muttered
while shooting wary looks at Vlad. “Let’s
go for a walk, hmm?”
“That’s not necessary, I won’t kill
him,” Vlad said in the same tone most
people used to talk about the weather.
“This is too twisted,” Gretchen
muttered. “I’m about to have Dracula for a
brother-in-law.”
I ignored that, still glaring at my father.
“I didn’t expect you to be happy about
this. I did expect that you wouldn’t get
homicidal. I’ve lived with a vampire for
years, remember? They’re not so different
from us.”
“You think I object because he’s a
vampire?” my father snapped. “If you
were marrying Marty, I’d give my
blessing because he’s a good man. He”—
a finger stabbed in Vlad’s direction—“is
not.”
I sighed. “You saw the corpses on the
lawn, didn’t you?”
My father let out a scoff. “As if I
couldn’t tell before that. I told you, Leila,
I can read people, and without a doubt,
Vlad is the most violent person I’ve ever
met.”
“You’re right.”
Vlad hadn’t shifted from his relaxed
position, nor had his genial smile slipped.
He waved a hand at Gretchen and Marty.
“You’re both resigned to this wedding,
so give us the room.”
Gretchen got up, casting a sideways
look at my hand. “Still no diamond ring.
This is what happens when you don’t play
hard to get, sis.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you want to help
me design the dress, meet me in the library
in half an hour.”
Marty gave me a long look. “I hope you
know what you’re doing, kid,” he said.
Then he followed Gretchen out of the
room.
I glanced back at Vlad, noting that he
and my father were engaged in a staring
contest. Vlad’s eyes were their normal
deep copper color, but even without
vampiric enhancement, Hugh Dalton
didn’t stand a chance.
“Dad, I know you have certain opinions
about Vlad, but once you get to know him,
I’m sure—” I began, only to have Vlad’s
chuckle stop me.
“That won’t help because he’s right. I
am a violent man and I always have been.
Why, when I was half his age and human, I
invited the local nobles to my home for a
feast. While they still had food hanging
from their lips, I slaughtered them all and
counted it an excellent evening.”
“TMI,” I muttered.
He ignored that, meeting my father’s
harsh blue stare.
“Here’s what you don’t know: I am
never violent without cause. Those nobles
had betrayed my father, resulting in him
being blinded and buried alive. Some of
them had walled him into his grave
themselves, yet they still came to my home
without fear because they underestimated
me. You don’t, which is one of the two
reasons I respect you.”
Then he leaned forward, his smile
fading.
“The other reason is this: loyalty.
You’ve seen the riches I possess and the
power I wield, yet you’ve never thought of
using your daughters to garner those things
for yourself.”
“That’s not loyalty. It’s being a father,”
my dad gritted.
“My father bartered me and my younger
brother to his worst enemy in exchange for
political security,” Vlad said flatly. “I’ve
seen far worse in the centuries since.
Fatherhood isn’t why you value your
daughters more than money, power, or
even healing your leg, which I can do. It’s
loyalty, and I expect you honor it more
now because of the loss you suffered
when you betrayed it before.”
I didn’t know which shocked me more
—Vlad saying he could heal my father’s
crippled leg, or him throwing up my dad’s
former adultery. Vlad knew about it
because of the guilt I still carried over my
mother’s death. I’d told her about the
incriminating letters I found in my dad’s
bag because I was angry that she was
moving us away from my trainer to join
my dad in Germany. At thirteen, I cared
more about making the Olympic team than
my mother’s heartache. Her leaving him
put us at my aunt’s, where she died trying
to help me after I touched that downed
power line.
My dad also looked stunned, but then he
rose, jabbing the end of his cane at Vlad.
“How dare you.”
The words trembled with wrath. Vlad
didn’t even blink.
“I dare because I want no
misunderstanding between us. I am
everything you think I am, but I love your
daughter, and what I love, I protect with
all of the violence in me, which, as you’ve
guessed, is considerable.”
Silence fell when Vlad finished
speaking. Even his staff must have paused
in their frenetic preparations because I
could’ve heard a pin drop in the next
room. My dad’s face remained set in hard
lines while I engaged in an inner debate.
He could’ve left out all the people
he’d killed—
Why? A Google search would reveal
the same thing.
Fine, but bringing up Dad’s affair—
He was impolite while making a point?
This is Vlad the Impaler. His points
usually come at the end of a long pole.
Yes, but the two of them are going to
be family—
Did you hear Vlad describe his
family? He didn’t even get to the part
where his younger brother kept trying to
kill him.
And on and on. As I’d feared, I’d
morphed into Gollum.
What I finally said after the seconds
ticked by was this:
“I don’t blame you for being upset,
Dad. If my daughter told me she was
marrying the undead Prince of Darkness,
I’d flip out, too. You don’t have to like it
or approve, but you can’t stop me, and I
hope . . .” I swallowed to relieve the lump
that suddenly shot into my throat. “I hope
you’ll be at my wedding.”
Then I went over to him and kissed his
cheek before leaving the room. Whatever
my dad, Gretchen, or Marty decided to do,
I had a wedding to get ready for.
Chapter 28
At some point, I felt sure I’d wake up. I
wasn’t the girl who had an exquisite gown
handmade with fairy godmother–like
quickness for her wedding. I was the girl
who lost her mother before I could really
get to know her. Who had her dreams
crushed, whose family harbored
resentments, who couldn’t touch anyone
without risking their lives, and who
drowned in darkness from all the sins her
abilities forced her to relive.
That didn’t look like the girl in the
mirror. My dress had a creamy bodice
overlapping at the bust to increase my
modest curves. Under that, a multilayered
chiffon skirt was inlaid with lace clusters
and tiny seed pearls. The lace bolero
jacket left my décolleté bare but hugged
my neck and shoulders before descending
into sleeves as sheer as spiderwebs. They
came to my fingers, embroidery clusters
concealing my long, zigzagging scar. My
hair was up, a diamond-studded clip
underneath the bun. That clip held up the
back of a sheer cathedral veil with more
pearl adornments. The front of the veil
was currently thrown back in case I
needed any final touch-ups on my makeup.
No, the girl in the mirror didn’t look
like she’d suffered from loneliness,
isolation, or an influx of images from the
worst deeds people inflicted upon each
other. She looked happy. One might even
dare to use the word blessed. Was it any
wonder I had a hard time reconciling that
she was me?
Gretchen appeared in the reflection.
“Don’t even think about crying during your
vows. It’ll ruin your makeup.”
My sister’s comment was a dash of
reality in these unreal circumstances, but
that was fine. She was here, dressed in a
strapless amethyst satin gown that showed
off curves I needed creative draping to
duplicate. Her shoulder-length black hair
was up, adding an air of sophistication,
and her dark eye makeup made her appear
older than her twenty-two years.
“You look amazing,” I told her.
“No,” she said, her voice becoming
soft. “You do.”
Then she shocked me by hugging me.
Underneath the hairspray and body lotion,
I caught her scent, like lemons and sea
spray. I inhaled, knowing I’d never come
across either of those without thinking of
my sister.
She let me go with a snort. “Did you
just smell me?”
Sheepish, I nodded. “All the blood
Vlad gave me put more than my hearing
into overdrive.”
Another snort. “You get weirder by the
day, you know that?” Then she glanced
around, but the three genius seamstresses
had left. “Well, do I smell okay? You
can’t beg, bribe, or steal perfume in this
place.”
A house of people with hyperactive
olfactory senses? I didn’t doubt it.
Perfume would be like mace to vampires.
“You smell fine,” I assured her.
Taps sounded at the door. Gretchen
opened it, revealing Marty. He wore a
black tuxedo that must have been recently
made because he didn’t own one, and it fit
him like a glove. His bushy sideburns
were now neatly trimmed and his thick
black hair was slicked back, adding a hint
of rakishness to his formal appearance.
“It’s time,” he said. Then he stared.
“Wow, kid. Both of you,” he hastily
added.
I turned so Marty could see my entire
dress, careful not to trip on my train. “I
still can’t believe Sinead, Frances, and
Bertrice made this in six hours. Those
vampires sewed so fast, they almost
caught the threads on fire.”
My voice trailed off as someone else
appeared behind Marty. Hugh Dalton also
wore a tuxedo, and his gray-black hair
was freshly cut. The lines in his face
looked sharper, but lips that had been
drawn into a slit softened somewhat as he
looked at me.
“No matter what I think about this,
Leila, you’re my daughter, so you are not
walking down that aisle alone.”
I swallowed hard. Gretchen hissed,
“Eye makeup!” and elbowed me, but her
eyes had a new shine, too. It had been a
long time since we’d done anything
together as a family.
Marty took Gretchen’s arm. “Come on,
beautiful. I’ll show you where to go.”
She gave her hair a final pat and then
blew me a kiss. “See you soon, sis.”
The two of them left. My father
continued to stare at me. Then he let out a
sigh that seemed to come from deep inside
him.
“You’re sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure,” I said in a steady voice.
He took my arm. My new currentrepelling,
ivory gloves only came to my
wrists so he absorbed a shock, yet he
concealed his wince behind a strained
smile.
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
Ibarely recognized the third floor. The
normal furnishings were gone and the dark
walls were covered with white silk. More
silk hung from the ceiling, creating an
elegant tenting effect. The hallway had
flowers wrapped around white stone
torches that were spaced with polished
shields between them. Those shields
picked up the firelight and reflected it,
bathing the entire hallway with a golden
glow. The scent to my newly sensitive
nose made the air heavier and sweeter.
Walking through it was like traversing an
enchanted tunnel.
Marty and Gretchen entered the main
doors to the ballroom. My father and I
followed, and when we appeared in the
entryway, organ music swelled, snatching
away my gasp.
It wasn’t the ballroom’s new look that
took my breath away, though the aisle
formed from towering pillars of white
roses and the massive antique chandeliers
ablaze with hundreds of candles had
transformed the room into a gothic
dreamscape. It was all the faces that
turned toward us. There had to be two
thousand people, the sea of black tuxedos
broken occasionally by splashes of color
from women in formal gowns.
Had Vlad invited the entire town? I
wondered in disbelief.
That thought vanished as I caught a
glimpse of the groom. Vlad stood on a
raised white dais, a canopy of
intertwining iron vines rising several feet
above him. He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo.
How like him not to blend in. Instead, his
ebony jacket had thick braiding around the
shoulders, reminding me of what kings
wore in official ceremonies. It buttoned to
his neck, the high collar framing his
strong, chiseled jaw line. His pants were
also black, but the cloak that draped over
his shoulders and pooled at his feet was
scarlet. Its edges were trimmed with
ermine, and a wide gold chain held it
closed, a gold and jet pendant the size of
Vlad’s fist hanging from the center.
In short, he was magnificent.
I walked down the aisle, barely
noticing anyone else. Even the pressure
from my father’s hand faded away. Vlad’s
hair was brushed completely back,
revealing his slight widow’s peak. The
absence of those dark waves made his
lean features, strong brows, and high
cheekbones that much more striking, and
his coppery-colored eyes seemed to
penetrate into my very soul.
Come to me, they silently commanded.
Even if I wanted to refuse, I didn’t think I
could.
I was twenty feet away when fire
snaked up the iron canopy, winding
through all those intricately carved vines.
My father stopped, his grip tightening to
hold me back.
“Leila—”
“It’s all right,” I said. I’d never fear fire
with Vlad near.
Then I let my arm slip from my father’s
grip, walking those last few feet alone.
The canopy continued to blaze but not a
stray spark dropped to the ground. By the
time I climbed to the top of the dais and
took Vlad’s hand, the iron had lightened
from the intensity of the flames, until it
looked like the metal canopy above us had
turned into molten gold.
To say I’d always remember this
moment would be an understatement.
I was so dazzled it took me a second to
realize the dais had stairs behind it, too. A
gray-haired man in a long white garment
climbed up to us. Then he made the sign of
the cross while intoning something in
Latin. Once he was finished, everyone sat
in near perfect unison. That sort of
coordination told me the majority of our
guests had to be vampires.
I had no idea you had so many friends!
slipped through my mind before I realized
how it sounded.
Vlad’s mouth quirked. Then, the
minister? officiator? began speaking in
English so I finally understood him.
“Dearest friends,” he said with a heavy
Italian accent. “We are here to witness the
joining of this man and this woman in the
bonds of holy matrimony.”
With my abilities, I’d relived a lot of
weddings. I’d also relived enough
divorces to know the vow we were about
to make had more than a fifty percent
chance of failure, but that didn’t intimidate
me. I’d faced longer odds before, and
Vlad was well worth the fight.
He smiled at that: knowing, challenging,
and oh so sensual.
“No fight,” he murmured. “We are
forever now. This first ceremony is only
so that you and everyone else know it,
too.”
First ceremony? I wondered, but then
the officiator said, “May we have the
rings?” and I froze. With all the activity
today, I’d forgotten we didn’t have rings.
Now what?
To my surprise, Gretchen ascended the
dais escorted by Mencheres. The longhaired
Egyptian must be Vlad’s best man.
He handed something to Vlad, and my
sister took my bouquet while pressing
something into my hand.
I looked down, relieved to see twisting
bands of gold forming an unusual-looking
ring. Then curiosity had me glancing at
Vlad’s closed hand. What sort of ring had
he gotten me?
“Put the ring on her hand,” the officiator
stated. “Will you, Vladislav Basarab, take
this woman, Leila Dalton, to be your wife
. . .”
The words blurred into white noise
when I saw the wide gold ring Vlad slid
onto my finger, a jeweled dragon
emblazoned on its surface. I didn’t need
Vlad to tell me that this was no replica. I
could feel it throbbing from the essences
of the ancient princes who’d worn it
before me, Vlad included.
He hadn’t given me an ordinary
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