Michele Hauf - Her Vampire Husband

BLU SHOVED AWAY the chocolate martini Bree tried to get her to drink. “For later,” Bree had coaxed, “when your husband tries to bring you to his bed.”

She didn’t need a loosen-up drink. “Bed is the last place I’ll follow that vampire tonight. Ugh. Do you think he sleeps in a coffin?”

She’d heard some longtooths engaged in the practice, though it was unnecessary to their survival. The novelty, or something stupid like that, was their reasoning.

“No coffins, sweetie. Don’t think things like that.”

“Thanks. Call me soon, okay?”

Blu did her best to control a tear when hugging Bree goodbye. A stroke of her friend’s wings showed her love and gratitude.

Outside the back door was where the vampire had said he’d drive up to get her after he’d spoken with the Council. Blu shrugged a palm up her arm, but before she could wonder if the shiver was from the cool breeze or nerves, she squeaked at the hard pinch to her upper arm. Spun about, she stifled a defensive scream at the sight of her lover.

“Ryan, what are you doing here?” Shadowed by his overwhelming bulk, he still held her tightly. She struggled, but that only made his grip go tighter. Normally she wouldn’t react defensively, but tonight was not a normal night. “Father said you were not to come near this place. You risk too much.”

“I had to see you, Blu. I’ve been kicking the wall all day thinking about you and that longtooth in the same room together. Promise me you won’t share his bed.”

When he released her, the pinch at her shoulder stung. He was never aware of his strength, and always went too far.

“It’s an easy promise.” She leaned in and kissed him quick on the mouth, but he grabbed her by the neck and forced the kiss longer, harder. She mumbled against his mouth and pushed his chest, forcing him to the wall. “That’s enough. I don’t want to mess up my makeup and have the vampire suspect. Get out of here. Now. Before he sees you.”

“Maybe I want him to see me.”

“Ryan.”

“Fine. I’m gone.” He toyed his fingers along the ends of her green hair. “But don’t forget the sacrifice I’m making for you, Blu. Soon it’ll just be the two of us.”

She gave him a small smile and nodded. Tugging her wig back into place, she kept her back to him as he loped off down the alley.

In theory his plan sounded too good to be true. But it was all she had to hope for, so she subscribed to Ryan’s plan for her freedom. For now.

A black BMW 7 Series pulled up from the opposite direction Ryan had left. No streamers or shaving cream announcing the newlyweds decorated the classy vehicle. Thank the goddess. The vampire lord stepped out and opened the passenger door for her.

Blu stood clutching her arm where Ryan had squeezed her and took in Lord Saint-Pierre. About as tall as Ryan, which put him a head taller than her, yet more lithe, not so bulky. Streamlined muscle did stretch beneath the fancy suit. Charcoal hair spilled onto his shoulders. She liked dark hair on men, but not vampires.

She did not like vampires. And that was all that mattered. He may be the most handsome and stylish man for miles around, and still he would not turn her head.

Sliding inside the car, Blu did take note of his manners. No man had ever held the door for her. It wasn’t entirely offensive.

They drove in silence for what seemed forever. Away from the rush of the ceremony and in the quiet confines of the BMW, Blu moved her hands up her bare arms, mining for warmth. The air-conditioning blasted.

What to say to one’s new husband whom she’d known less than ten minutes?

“Turn that down,” she blurted. “You want an ice cube for a wife?”

“Sorry.” He grimaced. Flicked the control knob to Off.

More miles of quiet followed. Creed tapped the steering wheel, but didn’t offer conversation. The radio was not on, which Blu would have preferred, and the interior was soundproofed from outside noises.

Blu could not stand uncomfortable silences. Life was to be lived, loud, proud and wild. “Up all night, sleep all day” was her motto.

But now she appreciated the sharp silence.

Never mind he was her husband. Her vampire husband. That creeped her out on so many levels.

How to converse with someone she had no interest in?

She tangled her fingers in the glossy strands of her wig. Maybe ask him how he dared to kiss her like that in front of everyone? So brazen. So freakin’ dominant. Hadn’t she suffered the alpha males enough? This little foray was supposed to be a vacation away from all the testosterone she literally breathed daily living at the pack compound.

Thinking of testosterone…

She could still taste the vampire on her mouth. It wasn’t like blood—she wouldn’t know that taste—but it wasn’t like her lover’s taste either. This taste was different. In ways that shouldn’t intrigue her but did.

“You spoke to my father,” she stated. Okay, so the silence was beginning to grate on her.

“Principal Masterson is a fine man. The leader of the Northern pack?”

“Since Severo stepped down.” She looked out the window. Raindrops spattered the glass.

Severo. The former principal of the Northern pack who had stepped down to become a lone wolf. He’d married a vampire last year. He had been the one to suggest this idea to the Council and to encourage her father to put her hand in for this ridiculous scam.

Why could they not use his marriage as an example?

Blu recalled something about Severo’s wife being changed to vampire only after they had fallen in love. Supposedly it wasn’t the same situation.

It was a good thing Severo had not been at the wedding. Blu knew exactly how hard she’d swing a fist at him when she did see him. Hard enough to draw blood. A loose tooth would serve the icing on the cake she hadn’t gotten to taste this evening.

“So,” she said, “what are we to do with ourselves? You’re taking me to your home?”

“Yes, I live at the edge of the suburb, but more in the country.”

“What are your intentions?”

“You are my wife. I had assumed we would do the married thing.”

“The married thing.” She tapped the rain-streaked glass with a knuckle. “What does that imply exactly?”

“Living in the same house. Appearing to others as a couple. Conversation.”

She waited for him to summon further examples but he did not. Because he could not? He was not so pleased with this arrangement either, she bet.

At least they had one thing in common.

“Sex?” she prompted.

“Of course.”

“You wish.”

“The marriage must be consummated.”

“The Council’s idea of consummation is not sex.”

“You would take my bite?”

“When hell freezes over.”

The car swerved sharply, shoving Blu roughly against the door. She sensed her husband’s smirk as he pulled through an automated gate and onto a cobbled driveway that curved before a three-story brick mansion.

Supposedly her new hubby lived in France during the summer months and wintered in Minnesota. He’d moved back to the States a few months early after agreeing to the marriage. What a freak. She’d take the glamour of Paris all year if given an opportunity.

The estate fronted by climbing vines initially impressed Blu until she decided it wasn’t so grand. Her father’s compound covered more acreage, and the pack probably owned more surrounding land—no thanks to the greedy vampires.

“Big mansion,” she remarked. “You must have servants.”

“Gardener and Housekeeper.”

Short, to-the-point answers. Wasn’t he the one who’d suggested marriage implied they converse?

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a real conversationalist?”