Twice Tempted

by Jeaniene Frost

  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 abilit
ies 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 current-repelling, 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.”

  I barely 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.

&nbs
p; “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 long-haired 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 diamond ring. He’d given me the royal seal of the Dracul line, resized to fit my finger.

  I didn’t hear the officiator finish, but Vlad said, “I will,” first in English, then in Romanian. The instant roar from the audience startled me out of my shock. Wasn’t the cheering supposed to come after both of us said our vows?

  Then it was my turn, and I slid the ring onto Vlad’s hand while vowing to love, honor, and cherish him. No roar sounded after I was done speaking. In fact, the place went absolutely silent when the officiator stated that if anyone objected to our union, they should speak now or forever hold their peace.

  To my relief, neither my father nor Marty said anything. Otherwise, someone in this groom-oriented crowd might have “forever” silenced them on the spot.