Her Vampire Husband

Blu spooned in a load of sugary sweetness. Milk trickled down her chin and she swiped it off with the back of her hand.

This time she sensed his arrival before the kitchen door swung inside.

“Morning, darling,” she offered coquettishly.

Blu admonished her inner flirt. She’d come so close to kissing him last night. If he hadn’t smelled like blood, she would have.

Good save. Way to stay in control.

Mostly. The dude didn’t have to know what had gone on behind closed doors.

Dressed impeccably, as usual, Creed wore another Armani suit, unbuttoned to reveal a slice of shirt that matched the whites of his eyes. The shirt, too, was unbuttoned, exposing a patch of pale flesh. Diamond cuff links advertised his wealth.

Blu had no idea how rich the man was, but much richer than her family was, she felt sure. The pack compound might be larger, but this mansion had all the luxury goods. Marble floors, gold faucets, high-thread-count sheets and plasma TVs.

A girl should take advantage of her new bank account. She was his wife, after all. And didn’t wives have access to all of their husband’s cash?

“Sleep well last night?” he asked.

“Blissful,” she answered, then caught his knowing smirk.

What was that about?

Morning paper in hand, Creed eyed the massive bowl of cereal. “Why don’t you pour the milk in the box and eat it that way?”

“Oh, ha-ha. The vampire made a funny.”

He sat before the table, across from her, and smoothed the paper neatly before him. “You eat a lot.”

“Worried I’m going to get fat on you?”

“I suspect you run it off. How far do you run every day?”

“I’m guessing I’m getting about ten miles doing your estate five times in a circle.”

“I could get you a treadmill.”

“Oh, right. Why don’t you get me a leash, too?” She chomped a huge bite, milk trailing down her chin again. “And while you’re at it, a special room with all my chew toys and a doggie bed.”

“I didn’t mean to offend, Blu. Though you seem to take offense at the drop of a hat,” he muttered.

Blu sneered mockingly.

He looked up from the paper and zoomed in on her chin. He made a brushing gesture over his own chin.

Blu tried to lick away the dribble of milk but in the process sprayed out a pink kernel of cereal. It rolled across the paper and landed near Creed’s finger.

The vampire stared at the cereal and the wet trail drawn across his immaculate paper. Blu could sense his anger; it smelled acrid. Bet the man had never had his life upset. Bet he called all the shots. Tribe leaders were like that, all in control and in charge. Or so she imagined.

On the other hand, the leaders she was accustomed to liked upset, chaos and mayhem. Hmm…well, if he was of that nature, the guy hid it well.

He flicked the cereal piece and it pinged the bowl and soared onto the floor.

“No points for you,” Blu said. “Want to go for a goal?” She displayed a pink puff between her fingers.

That got a smile from him. Pleased with her attempt to crack his hard armor, Blu popped the cereal into her mouth.

“So what do you do for fun, Creed? If we’re going to do this marriage thing right we have to do things. Like go out dancing or clubbing.”

“I abhor the raucous scene and find the stuff that qualifies for music nowadays considerably lacking.”

“Figured as much. I suppose a game of chess at the local fencing club is more your speed?”

“How about sailing?”

“Seriously?”

“No. I’m not keen on open water.”

“Nor am I. But you had me for a second there. One point for the vampire. So what have you done, in all your centuries, to have fun?”

He folded the paper and set it aside. The white shirt enhanced his European bone structure. He was not overtly handsome, but every time Blu looked at him she saw something new to wonder over.

Today it was his chin, darkened with fine stubble. The slightest cleft drew her eye. The indentation was as wide as her smallest finger, a place a girl could dip her tongue for a taste.

If the girl wanted a taste. Which she didn’t. Not at all.

“Fun?” He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. Then, he leaned forward, moving himself into her space. Was that enthusiasm in his expression? “In the fourteenth century I used to steal armor from the opposing troops then set their barracks on fire.”

“And that was fun?”

“It was. At the end of the sixteenth century was the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre. Killed a good number of Huguenots in that.” He settled back and eyed her narrowly. “You feel a bit like a Huguenot after that charade of a wedding ceremony?”

“I’m not following.”

“The Catholics and the Huguenots—or Protestants, if you prefer—came together for the marriage of Henri of Navarre to Marie de Médicis. Two opposing forces wed in hopes of uniting the religions. Much like we were wed.”

“Right. But you said it resulted in massacre?”

“Yes.” Creed tapped the paper absently. “Catherine de Médicis, along with her son King Charles IX, ordered the Huguenots slaughtered.”

“You think that’s what will come of our marriage? A slaughter between the nations?”

“I hope not, Blu.” He looked aside, then dismissing the dread topic, offered gaily, “I’ve had plenty of fun. In the eighteenth century there were the opera and salons. Salacious gossip was bantered about. Lives and destinies were created, changed and destroyed with a mere word or an exquisitely biting twist of phrase.”

“I’ve always had a passion for the eighteenth century. Paris. I like the big poufy dresses and the sexy frock coats the men used to wear. Man, do I love a fop!”

“Really?” His eyes softened and he spread his fingers on the table, not far from the milk trail. “That was a comfort time for me. I used to wear damask and velvet frock coats. Alençon lace and diamonds at my wrists and jabot. Nothing but the finest to attract the ladies.”