Bed chamber in sight, I fought the urge to fling her over my shoulder and carry her the remaining distance. “What other choice have I? What would you have me do, wife?”
“My cousin, Matthias Corvinus!” She erupted, face brightening at the idea. “He’s the King of Hungary! You could beseech him in my name, and seek his aid!”
“There’s no time!” With an adamant shake of my head, I inched us closer to my desired destination. “Far too soon, they’ll be at our gates.”
Slipping her hands from my grasp, she placed her palms against my chest. “It’s you that they want. That is a sacrifice I’m not ready to make, even if you are. Go, now. Talk to Matthias. Murad will be far more inclined to halt and listen it you are backed by the Hungarian army. Peace may yet be achieved.”
Squeezing my eyes shut for a beat, I fought to suppress the blaze of hope my beloved ignited within me. Such a flame was far too dangerous to feed. “If I am not here when they arrive, they could torch the village simply to make a point. I dare not think of what they would do if they found you.”
“I will borrow clothes from my handmaiden, Elena, and stay with her family while you’re away. I’m perfectly capable of convincing people that I’m her cousin …” her mouth opened, brain ticking in search of a name,” … Mena, visiting from my family’s modest cabin in the mountains.”
Cradling her face in my palms, I kissed the tip of her pert nose. “I have no doubt you could achieve a brilliant rouse. Even so, I dare not take that risk.”
“You can, and you will.” Placing her hand over mine, Jusztina returned my kiss with one planted to the heel of my palm. “Your family needs you, Vlad. Transylvania needs you. It is your duty to all those that rely on you, that you go. Travel safe, husband, knowing that I shall light candles and pray that Matthias will grant us the mercy of his favor.”
Chapter seventeen
Vinx
Dracula lives.
Splashed across every media outlet, each article was accompanied by the glamourized reason for his awakening.
Namely, me.
Interview requests flooded in. The world eager to get a glimpse of the King, and future Queen of Darkness.
Nope. Nowhere near comfortable with that title.
Counting down to our first on-air appearance, it fell to Micah to transform me into a believable royal. “One upside of having Vlad’s limitless wealth? We were able to hire fashion designers to create these killer looks.”
“Killer. Ha. Vampire pun intended,” I muttered, applying a fresh sheen of gloss to my lips.
Ignoring my stellar display of wit, Mics continued to tighten the ties of my brandy-hued bodice. Thankfully, breathing wasn’t an issue. She made sure there was no room for such a novelty. “Seriously, the way they combined his old-world style with your modern flare is stunning.”
She wasn’t wrong. Beneath the herring bone-lined bodice was a cobalt tunic dress with flowy sleeves that fell off my shoulders. It would have shown off a healthy dose of cleavage, if I had any to speak of. As it was, Mics had to use bronzer to create the illusion of boobs.
After screwing the cap back on the gloss, I dropped it to the vanity counter and met Micah’s gaze in the mirror. “War is raging all around, and here we are fighting it one fashion trend at a time.”
“Sometimes all it takes to flame the desire to rebel is a spark of hope held up from amidst the masses.” Thumbs looped in the pockets of his brown-tweed suit coat, the deep timbre of Vlad’s cadence rumbled from the doorway of the green room. “And, sometimes, that spark is a fetching pair of boots.”
Whoever dressed the Prince of Darkness deserved a fruit basket, and a high-five. His suit fit him like a second skin, showcasing his broad chest before tapering down his sculpted torso. The blue of his tie perfectly matched my dress, tying our looks together with orchestrated ease.
“Look at that,” my words morphed into a grunt as Micah yanked at the laces once more, “the man’s got jokes.”
The corners of Vlad’s sea-foam green eyes crinkled into a charming grin. “My apologies for the interruption. Renfield suggested I come to be … how did he put it? Prepped for the interview. I don’t know if that is actually something of critical importance, but he was quite insistent. Personally, I think it’s his diet that makes him so … intense. Did you know he only allows himself one drop of blood per day? He says that’s how he controls the lure of his hunger.”
One mystery solved, I slapped my hand to the Formica countertop. “That’s why he looks like a dried stick of jerky! He’s like an undead Gandhi!”
“Prepping is a fantastic idea,” Micah silenced me with a sideways glare. “You two need to convince the world you’re in love. Don’t lie about how you met, use the real story. After that, if it helps, think of the greatest love of your life and play off of that.”
“My ex slaughtered my entire family while I watched.”
“My wife died in my arms.” Vlad lobbed back with a nod of understanding.
Micah’s shoulders sagged. “Just look at each other like the sun rises and sets on the other’s ass, and you’ll be fine. Now, I’m going to go get a status update on any breaking news stories. The last thing we need is to get blindsided on air.”
An awkward silence settling between us, Vlad and I watched Micah disappear down the hall. It seemed so much easier to play off each other when we had an audience. Albeit, a reluctant one.
Checking my appearance in the mirror one last time, my gaze drew to Vlad with a magnetic tug. “I know it’s our job to sell this whole happily ever after scenario. But, I need you to know I’m not a stage-five clinger.”
A deep V of confusion creased his forehead. “I’m unclear of the meaning behind that sentiment.”
Turning my back to the mirror, I leaned one hip against the vanity. “I felt I needed to make it clear that I know we are each playing a part. We can go in front of the cameras and pledge our love for each other, but that doesn’t make any of it real. I just … didn’t want you to think I was under the confused notion there was something here that isn’t.”
Gliding across the room, Vlad edged up beside me. Lips parted with naughty promise, he leaned in, leaving nothing but a thin veil of sparking energy between us.
“In my day,” his gaze leisurely traveled the length of me, taking the time to round the curves. “Arranged marriages were a common place occurrence. They were set up for the benefit of families and title. While they weren’t instigated by the sweet song birds of love, that doesn’t mean deep thralls of passion didn’t bloom between the united couple.” Dragging his stare to mine, his seductive smile caused waves of longing to ripple through me. “Of course, back then I would have been paid a dowry of some sort—a few sheep, or pigs—in case such a bond never formed.”
“The sandwich wraps on the Kraft service table have bacon on them,” I offered in a throaty whisper. “Does that count?”
Vlad bit his lower lip, trying unsuccessfully to squelch a grin. “No pork offerings are needed.” Tracing his knuckle down the length of my arm, he laced his fingers with mine. The sharp chill of his skin sent shivers jolting through my breasts. “You stated your stance. Now, hear mine. I do not take vows of any kind lightly. When I make a pledge to you, it will be done of heart, body, and soul.”
“Wow,” Wetting my suddenly parched lips, I gently pulled back to extract my fingers from his. “Dracula’s got game.”
“Game?”
“You know what the ladies like.” At a loss of what to do with my hands, I smoothed them over the fabric of my bodice.
Knuckle curled beneath my chin, Vlad tipped my face to his. Breathing his words into me, his lips teased over mine without the sweet gratification of touch. “My beautiful queen, I don’t got game. I invented the game.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and sauntered from the room, pausing only to throw a come-and-get-
me look over his shoulder. “I’ll see you on set. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Micah, who had watched the entire exchange from the doorway, side-stepped to allow him to pass.
Mouth falling open, I gaped her way at a dumbfounded loss. “Son of a bitch,” I managed. “I am so out of my league.”
Craning her neck, Mics sought a second glimpse of his butt. “Damn right you are.”
Chapter eighteen
Vinx
Vlad and I sat side by side on a stiff beige couch; legs touching, and fingers intertwined. An arrangement of white hydrangeas decorated the walnut coffee table positioned in front of us. Every bit of the set was designed to look like someone’s cozy living room. It would have been far more welcoming if cameras and lights weren’t boring into us from every angle imaginable.
Michelle Hutson, an attractive middle-aged reporter with shoulder-length chestnut hair and an inquisitive stare, crossed her legs at the ankle and shuffled the order of her notecards. “No one can deny you’re a stunning couple. Tell me, how much truth is there in the rumor that, Vlad, you tasted Vincenza’s blood and fell in love? And if so, what do you say to skeptics that believe this whole romantic tale is meant to distract from more volatile Nosferatu matters?”
Playing his part with theatrical brilliance, Vlad’s head dipped with a sheepish grin. “If we were truly trying to sell a fairytale, I wager we would leave out what happened after I woke. That part was far from tender.”
As I patted his knee with our joined fingers, I gazed up at him with loving adoration. “I was the latest initiate of the Court—”
“Can you explain to our viewers what exactly that is?”
“It would be my pleasure.” Tossing my tousled bob, I offered Michelle a camera-ready smile. “It’s an elite counsel that oversees all broad scoping Nosferatu matters, such as the recent epidemic of attacks and hate crimes.”
Index finger pressed to her lips, Michelle frowned and shook her head. “Such a horrible ordeal.” In a blink, silver sparks of interest brightened her eyes, and her posture changed from professional to sassy girlfriend. “So, your initiation into this club was with something called a bloodsharing?”
Swallowing my annoyance, I kept my grin plastered in place. “It was. On each full moon the Court gathers for a sacramental bloodsharing over Vlad’s resting place. I let a couple of drops fall, and found out the hard way he is definitely not a morning person.”
“I bit her.” Vlad grimaced, ever the sexy, naughty boy. “In my defense, I was out of my mind from starvation and solitude.”
“Nothing was done that couldn’t be undone with a band-aid and an apology.” Playfully, I bumped his elbow with mine.
Turning his face from the cameras, he peered down at me with a focused intensity that made my belly flipflop. “I would chain myself in silver before ever harming my future queen again.”
“How does it feel to hear that title out loud, Vincenza?” Michelle slid to the edge of her chair, careful to keep her good side to the viewing public. “Are you ready to be Lady Draculesti, Queen of the Nosferatu?”
Puffing my cheeks, I pantomimed blowing out a breath through pursed lips. “Can anyone ever be ready for that kind of thing? I’m just a girl from Connecticut that met a guy, and fell in love. Whatever comes next, we’ll figure out … together.”
“Yes, these are troubled time. Watching a fairytale play out is a welcome distraction from the ugliness we are assaulted with daily.” Back straightening, as if fearing her interview was getting to cutesy, Michelle’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed. “Which brings me to my next question. You mentioned the recent rash of Nosferatu attacks. You were in that airplane hangar when Vlad’s son, Rau Mihnea, allegedly murdered a young woman. At this very moment, there is a nationwide manhunt for him in the United States. Tell me, Vincenza, having witnessed Rau’s crimes, do your and Vlad’s views differ on the charges against him?”
This was it. The moment I could plant the seed of truth and begin nurturing it. “I was in that airplane hangar. I saw what happened, and what is continuing to happen. Rau is suffering from a sickness, and he’s not the only one. This virus is similar to rabies, and it is what’s causing vampires to act out in violent ways. These vampires do not need to be imprisoned or killed. They need treatment.”
“As a family,” Vlad added his voice to our mutual stance, “we want to get my boy home, so that we may begin the hunt for a cure. Not for him alone, but countless others that are inflicted.”
My fangs threatened when I realized Michelle wasn’t even pretending to listen. She pressed two fingers to her ear piece, listening to a message from the control room. Turning her face from the cameras, she muttered into her mic, “We don’t do that. This isn’t some public access channel. It’s prime time.” A beat passed as she listened to their response. “Because, Stephen, it makes us look like a second-rate show. No, threats aren’t necessary. Just patch the fucking thing through.” Glancing up, her bright smile returned as if nothing had happened. “It seems we have a caller with a question.”
Feeling Vlad tense beside me, I ignored the internal screaming in my mind and gushed on both our behalves, “What a fun surprise!”
“We’re patching them through now.” Michelle nodded, taking direction from the voice in her ear. “Caller, you are on with Vlad Draculesti and Vincenza Larow. What question did you have for them?”
A moment of static, then a slick voice filled the studio. “Vlad, old friend, it’s been a long time.”
One syllable uttered from that silky cadence and my vision tunneled.
Tendrils of evil snaked into my veins, binding me to the chair.
I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think … not of anything more than my reoccurring nightmares.
I thank you, my dark lords, for helping me. May you make the cord between myself and Vincenza strong like the chains … of a prisoner.
“Dorian!” Features sharpening with a dangerous edge, Vlad sprang from his seat. “Show yourself, you villainous rat!”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dorian chuckled, ice clinking in a glass on the other side of the line. “For me to show my true face to the world, as you have?”
The red lights from the cameras flicked off.
Everyone, except Vlad and myself, stood frozen stone still—a room full of statues.
Imprisoned inside my own body, blood tinged tears streaked my cheeks. The jagged hint of a memory dug, clawed, and licked at the walls of my mind, desperate to be remembered.
Hands curling into tight fists, Vlad’s eyes blinked to reptilian slits. His fangs elongated into a vicious maw, saliva dripping from their deadly points. “What do you want, Gray? Speak, you squirming larva!”
“I want to talk about this little stunt of yours.” Ice clinked once more, as if Dorian was rolling it around the edges of a glass. “You know, the one where you become the relatable hero to the people?”
Vlad’s head tilted with a serpent-like roll of his neck. “Fearful of having a little competition in front of the masses?”
“From you?” Dorian erupted in hearty peals of laughter. “You have many strengths, old friend. Being charismatic under pressure has never been one of them. No, I’m contacting you to deliver a public service announcement. Look around, Vlad. Do you see those glassy-eyed stares peering back at you? That is my doing. I need not be present to have them all under my control.”
Throwing his head back, Vlad shouted at the ceiling. “Once more you’re hiding behind parlor tricks. You coward!”
“A trick, is it? Many things have changed since you retreated into hiding. Perhaps you need a sampling of how my powers have grown?”
With an audible snap of Dorian’s fingers, a heavy-set crew member—with mustard stains on the front of his flannel shirt--stepped out from behind the camera. Pulling an ink pen from his breast pocket, h
e rolled it over his fingers into a tight fist. Then, without a second of hesitation, he plunged it hard and fast into his right eye. Blood spurt from the wound, streaking the man’s face in a current of gore. Seemingly oblivious to the Bic jutting from his eye socket, the crew member returned to stone stillness.
Vlad sniffed the air once, then again, his pupils dilating with hunger.
“Look at how you twitch!” Dorian laughed. “Then again, aren’t we all victims to our own appetites? Mine, is for war. You denied me it once, Draculesti. Going so far as to hide away my very favorite toy … you. Have no fear, since then I’ve been planning, plotting, and eagerly awaiting your return. At long last, the time has come. With this little display,” he spat the word as if it were beneath him, “comes a message. Consider this a small sampling. One that motivates you to shake out your joints, and knock off the rust from your slumber. Because, I need you at full strength for what’s to come.”
A click, and the call ended, awakening bedlam in the studio.
Screams rang out.
Visibly trembling, Michelle called 911.
Vlad shook off his vampiric attributes, and bolted to the cameraman’s side at the same instant the man slumped to the floor in shock. Rolling him onto his back, Vlad plucked the pen from his socket, causing discharge to pulse from the wound. Two other crew members ran to help their fallen friend, only to pull up short and heave at the sight of his injury.
Not trusting himself to drop fang so close to an injured human, Vlad bit the inside of his wrist with his human teeth, gnawing until he tore through to a claret gush. Unceremoniously, he forced his wrist to the cameraman’s lips.
“Vampire blood is finicky and unpredictable,” he rumbled to the two green-hued aids. “There’s no telling if this will save his sight, yet it should spare him the gaping hole in his skull.” Satisfied with how much of his blood his patient ingested, Vlad clapped his opposite hand over his wrist and rose to his feet. “Stay with him until help arrives.”
Striding to where I still sat in stunned confusion, Vlad hooked me by the elbow and dragged me to my feet.
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