Chapter
9
In the morning, Elena woke feeling
strangely let down. Even though she had insisted on a marriage in
name only, she had hoped that Drake would join her in bed last
night, that he would take her in his arms. Even though she wished
to remain a virgin, she yearned for his kisses, for the touch of
his hand in her hair, for the sound of his voice whispering that
she was beautiful, desirable. He had said he would come to her. Why
had he changed his mind?
A loud “meow” announced Smoke’s
presence before the cat jumped onto the bed, turned around twice,
and curled beside her.
“So,” Elena said, stroking the cat’s
head, “where is his lordship this morning?”
Another “meow” was her only
answer.
For a few moments, Elena was content to
lie abed and let her mind wander while petting the cat. When she
had entered the castle last night, the door had been unlocked.
There had been a fire in the hearth that hadn’t been there when
she’d left. Someone had lit the candles in her bedroom. Who? Was
there someone else living in the castle, someone she had yet to
meet?
No sense lying there wondering about
it. Smoke couldn’t give her any answers. She had a feeling she
wouldn’t get any answers out of Drake, either.
With a sigh, Elena pushed the big gray
tom away. The cat hissed softly, then curled up at the foot of the
bed.
“Sleep all day if you want, you lazy
beast,” Elena said, throwing back the covers. “But I’m
hungry.”
Rising, Elena pulled on her robe and
descended the stairs. As usual, she found her breakfast waiting for
her. Taking a seat at the trestle table, she pulled the tray toward
her and lifted the lid, uncovering a meal of hard-boiled eggs,
fruit, cheese, and a chocolate doughnut, along with a pot of tea.
Taking a bite of the doughnut, she instantly forgave Drake for
leaving her to her lonely bed the night before.
When she unwrapped the silverware, she
found a note, which read:
Elena, my sweet, the city awaits.
Be ready at sundown.
Your loving husband.
She ran her fingers over his bold
signature. Your loving husband. If only it were true.
Shortly after sundown, Drake rapped on
Tavian Dinescu’s front door. It was opened moments later by Dinescu
himself.
“Yes?” Dinescu said gruffly. “How may I
help you?”
Drake sketched a bow. “I’ve come to
introduce myself,” he said formally. “I am Lord Drake of Wolfram
Castle.”
Dinescu straightened slightly,
impressed by Drake’s demeanor and title in spite of himself.
“Please, won’t you come in?”
“No, thank you. I merely came to inform
you that I have taken your niece, Elena, as my bride.”
Dinescu stared at him, mouth
agape.
“I came here to set your mind at ease.
She is quite well, and wishes to thank you for the years you
supported her.”
Dinescu found his voice at last. “I’m
glad to know she’s all right, but—Lord Wolfram, is it? Didn’t she
tell you she was engaged to me?”
“I am aware you offered to marry her,”
Drake replied with a wry grin. “However, since she is now my wife,
I think we can assume that her answer was no.”
Dinescu’s eyes narrowed as an angry
splash of red climbed up his throat and spread into his
cheeks.
Gathering his preternatural power
around him, Drake murmured, “Do not pursue the matter. I can assure
you it will not end well if you do.”
Dinescu took a step backward under the
weight of Drake’s steady gaze. Hands clenched tightly at his sides,
he hissed, “What are you?”
“Your niece’s husband,” Drake replied
mildly. “Good evening to you, sir.” Turning on his heel, Drake slid
behind the wheel of the Porsche, keenly aware of Tavian Dinescu’s
malevolent gaze on his back.
Elena stood in front of the wardrobe,
trying to decide what to wear. The gowns from Madame Raschelle were
too fancy, jeans and a T-shirt not fancy enough. She settled on the
light blue silk that Drake had given her.
Ears twitching, Smoke sat on the foot
of the bed, watching through avid yellow eyes as she changed into
clean underwear, then slipped the dress over her head. She packed a
pair of jeans and a T-shirt and a change of underwear in a small
valise Drake had left for her, along with her nightgown and robe,
her comb and brush and pins for her hair.
She was putting on her shoes when, with
a flick of its tail, the cat jumped off the bed and left the
room.
A moment later, Drake appeared in the
doorway. Clad in gray trousers, a white shirt open at the collar,
and a long black broadcloth coat, he looked every inch the lord of
the manor.
She felt her cheeks grow warm under his
blatant regard. “Good evening, my lord husband,” she murmured,
mimicking the formal language he always used with her.
“Good evening, my lady wife. Do you
still wish to visit the city?”
“Yes, very much. Unless you’ve changed
your mind.”
“Not at all.” He tucked her valise
under his arm, then held out his hand. “Let us be on our
way.”
“How long will it take to get there?”
Elena asked. They had been driving for perhaps an hour. Drake had
said little in that time. To be fair, she hadn’t said much,
either.
“Another hour,” he replied with a
glance in her direction. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yes.” Enena watched the miles slip by.
“Your cat is very strange,” she remarked a short time later.
“Sometimes I think he understands every word I say.”
“I do not own a cat.”
“You don’t? Then who owns that big gray
tom? He seems quite at home in the castle.” And in my bed, she
thought ruefully.
“No one owns him,” Drake said. “He
comes and goes as he pleases.”
“He brought me a dead rat the other
day.”
Drake laughed softly.
“Indeed?”
“It’s not funny! It was
disgusting.”
“He has never brought a rat into the
castle before.”
“It was probably my fault,” she
admitted. “I told him to go out and earn his keep.”
“You know what they say,” Drake said,
grinning at her. “Be wary what you ask for lest you get
it.”
She glared at him, then burst out
laughing. A warm glow suffused her when his laughter mingled with
hers.
She was still smiling when the faint
glow of streetlights came into view.
Drake pulled up in front of a large
hotel with an old-fashioned ambiance. After turning off the engine,
he got out of the car, then came around to open her door for her.
Taking her by the hand, he ushered her into the hotel. After
securing a room, he asked if she was ready to dine, and when she
said yes, he escorted her into the hotel’s elegant
restaurant.
It was quite the loveliest place she
had ever seen. The lighting was subdued, the walls papered with an
elegant rose and cream stripe. The tables were laid with
rosecolored damask threaded with gold, gleaming silverware, and
crystal goblets. She looked at Drake, her brows raised, when all he
ordered for dinner was a glass of red wine.
“Don’t tell me you’ve already eaten?”
Elena said, disappointment in her tone. “I know you like to eat
alone, but I thought you might make an exception
tonight.”
“Sorry, sweet wife, but do not let my
abstinence spoil your supper. I am told the cuisine here is quite
good.”
The roast, country potatoes, green
beans, and bread looked good, smelled wonderful, and tasted even
better, but when she offered Drake a bite of roast dipped in gravy,
he refused.
“I don’t understand why you won’t eat
with me,” she said with a pout. “Are you embarrassed by your table
manners or something?”
“Yes,” he said with a wry grin.
“Something like that.”
She made a face at him. “I don’t
believe you.” He was so polished in every other regard. His
clothing was always impeccable, his speech refined. She decided
then and there that, one way or another, she would discover what he
was hiding.
After dinner, he took her walking down
Republicii Street, which was lined with quaint storefronts
reminiscent of days gone by. Most of the smaller shops were closed
for the evening, but a few of the larger ones remained open. They
passed stores that sold clothes, books, souvenirs, jewelry,
electrical appliances, and even art, as well as cafés and
restaurants. No cars were allowed here, which made it ideal for an
after-dinner stroll.
Elena was treated to more evidence of
Drake’s generosity when he insisted on buying her another new
dress—this one the color of a ripe plum. He also bought her a pink
sweater, a pair of shoes, and a fur-lined jacket, and instructed
the clerk to send it all to the hotel.
“Is there anything else you would
like?” he asked as they continued down the street.
“I need a mirror. I can’t believe you
don’t have any in the castle.”
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought
she heard him swear softly. And then he smiled at her. “Of
course.”
He bought her a full-length, antique,
stand-up mirror framed in polished mahogany. When she protested,
insisting it was too costly, he silenced her by saying, “Consider
it my wedding gift.”
She could hardly argue with
that.
After leaving the shop, he asked if she
was tired. Elena shook her head. She felt as if she could walk for
miles. It felt good to stretch her legs, to feel the breeze on her
face. To feel Drake’s hand holding hers.
They crossed the street at the corner
and walked back toward the hotel. Elena paused to peer in the
window of an old-fashioned tea shop, charmed by the unusual teapots
and cups, the old-fashioned tins of tea. Moving on, they passed a
bridal shop, several restaurants, and an ice-cream
parlor.
A narrow alley took them away from the
city. There were no lights here. Elena clung to Drake’s arm,
visions of muggers racing to the forefront of her
mind.
“What are we doing here?” she asked,
glancing nervously from side to side.
Drake quietly cursed himself. What was
he thinking, bringing her here? His only excuse was the scent of
prey being carried to him on an errant breeze. It quickened his
hunger, made his fangs ache with need. But he couldn’t hunt now,
not with Elena on his arm.
An abrupt turn and he headed back
toward the hotel.
“But I’m not ready to go to bed,” she
protested as he escorted her up to their room. “I’d like some
dessert and a cup of coffee.”
“I need to go out.”
“Where are you going at this hour?” she
asked, glancing at her watch. “Why can’t I come with
you?”
The lie came quickly to his lips. “I’m
going to one of the clubs.”
“What kind of club?” she asked
suspiciously.
“A casino.”
“Why can’t I go? I’ve never been to a
casino.”
“Stay here and behave yourself. I won’t
be gone long.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and left
the room, closing the door behind him.
Elena stared after him. He was lying,
but why? Was the truth so horrible? Before she could change her
mind, she followed him down the stairs, determined to find out
where he was going.
She hadn’t expected it to be so easy to
follow him, had been certain that, within minutes, he would
discover she was behind him and send her back to the hotel. But he
appeared to be lost in thought as he walked quickly down the
street, his hands shoved into his pockets. She trailed behind him,
her gaze darting right and left. What was she doing, following him
down dark streets in a strange city? Sometimes it seemed as if he
wasn’t real. His black attire made it easy to believe he was a part
of the night, like the darkness and the shadows and the mare’s tail
clouds drifting across the moon.
Ahead, Drake turned right, into a park.
What was he going to do there at this time of night? Was he meeting
someone? But who? A woman? The thought of Drake with another woman
hurt more than she would have believed possible. Still, she had no
one to blame but herself. She had told him she wanted a marriage in
name only, certain, at the time, that she meant it. But that had
been before the wedding. And even though it was just a sham, she
was his wife and he was her husband.
She ducked out of sight behind a tree
when two disreputable-looking men strolled out of the shadows and
approached Drake. She heard the taller of the two strangers demand
his wallet and when he refused, the tall man and his companion both
pulled knives hidden under their shirts. Moonlight glinted on the
blades as the muggers lunged forward, their weapons driving toward
Drake’s chest.
Only Drake wasn’t there. Miraculously,
or so it appeared to Elena, he materialized behind the men, his
hands curling around their necks, slamming their heads together
with a sickening thud. The knives fell from their hands, clattering
to the walkway as Drake dropped the bodies to the ground. She
couldn’t tell if the muggers were unconscious, or dead, but there
was no mistaking the dark stains that spread out on the
cement.
Frozen in place, Elena could only stare
as Drake bent over one of the men. It took her several moments to
realize what he was doing and even then she couldn’t believe what
she was seeing. She must have made a sound because he whirled
about, his long black hair whipping about his face, his narrowed
gaze piercing the darkness, zeroing in on where she
stood.
Terrified, she stared at the blood
dripping from his teeth—no, not teeth. Fangs. His eyes, once a
deep, dark blue, had gone a hideous crimson red. Fear coiled like a
viper in her belly and she braced a shaky hand against the tree
beside her, her heart in her throat as the world spun out of focus.
Black spots danced across her vision. With a fearful cry, she fell
into the darkness that enveloped her like a cocoon and dragged her
down, down, into oblivion.
Cussing softly, Drake summoned his
preternatural power. Darting forward, he caught Elena in his arms
before she hit the ground. What the hell was she doing here? He
swore again. No mortal on earth knew what he was. He brushed a lock
of hair from her forehead. What was he to do with her now? The
answer came quickly to his mind—according to the laws of his kind,
he should either wipe his memory from her mind, or take her life.
Neither option appealed to him.
Turning away from the two bodies, he
cradled Elena to his chest and transported the two of them to her
room at Wolfram Castle. Holding her tight with one arm, he pulled
down the covers on the bed, then lowered her onto the mattress. He
undressed her down to her bra and panties, then pulled the blankets
up to her chin. She was beautiful, so beautiful. Her hair flowed
across the pillow like skeins of black silk. Her skin was smooth
and clear and warm. So warm. So touchable.
He stroked the curve of her cheek. What
was he going to do with her? He couldn’t kill her. He would give up
his own life before he sacrificed hers, a very real possibility
once Rodin learned that Drake had taken a mortal bride, and that
she knew the truth of what he was.
He rarely thought of Rodin, hadn’t seen
his sire in over three hundred years. He fervently wished he could
put it off for another three centuries, but there was no chance of
that now. An invitation to the Fortress was not an idle request. It
was a command, one Drake dared not ignore.
Elena stirred, drawing his attention
once again. Rodin wouldn’t expect him for another few weeks. Drake
blew out an exasperated sigh. Perhaps, by then, he could come up
with a valid reason for breaking one of their strictest laws. His
only hope to preserve his own life and that of his bride was to
somehow mollify his sire.
He didn’t want to think of the
consequences should he fail.