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.�
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“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.
Chapter 10
Elena awoke feeling groggy and disoriented and then, as the events of the previous night sprang to the front of her mind, she bolted out of bed. Only then did she realize she was no longer at the hotel but back in her room at the castle. How had she gotten here? And where was Drake?
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting out of there just as fast as her feet would take her. The man she had married, the man she was falling in love with, was a . . . a . . . She couldn’t make herself say the word. It was impossible. Good grief, what if she had let him make love to her?
She pressed a hand to her heart; then, as a new thought rose to the fore, she lifted an exploratory hand to her throat. Had he bitten her? Was she going to become what he was? Fear sat like a lump of ice in her belly. Was that why he had married her? So he could turn her into the same kind of monster he was?
She had lived in the land of Dracula for almost half of her life. Most of the tourists who came to Transylvania wanted to see Dracula’s castle, which was, in reality, Bran Castle, located on the border between Transylvania and Wallachia. The castle had been used by Vlad the Impaler, said to be the inspiration for Stoker’s fictional vampire.
Suddenly chilled, she wrapped her arms around her middle. She had grown up on the myths and legends that surrounded vampires, but it had never occurred to her that Drake might be one of the Undead. Of course, no one believed such creatures actually existed. Sure, vampire books and movies were popular, and had been for years, but they were works of fiction, not reality.
But Drake was real, a man of flesh and blood. Vampire. She shuddered. It explained so much—why she never saw him during the day, the casket in the hidden chamber, the fact that he didn’t eat or drink. Odd, that the memory of his kisses didn’t repel her.
“Elena, get a grip!”
She had to get out of there before it was too late. Before he rose from the coffin hidden in the wall behind the tapestry in the main hall.
Her mouth went dry as she pictured him lying on the smooth white satin, his arms folded across his chest, his body cold and unmoving.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, clumsy in her haste, then sat on the edge of the bed to put on her socks and shoes, only then noticing that the valise she had taken to Brasov the night before was on the floor beside the bed, and that the mirror Drake had bought her stood in the corner. She stared at it a moment, remembering how happy she had been only a few hours ago, but there was no time to dwell on that now.
Grabbing her handbag, another gift from Drake, she hurried down the stairs, her only thought to get out of the castle before nightfall. She was safe until then. If only he had a phone so she could call for a cab. Not that she had any money to pay for one. He had given her many gifts but never any cash. Maybe she could find the keys to the Porsche. She spent a few minutes searching for them downstairs, and then upstairs, but to no avail.
Conscious of time passing, she ran down the stairs again.
When she re
ached the front door, Smoke was sitting in front of it. The cat stared up at her, its head cocked to one side.
Murmuring, “Good-bye, kitty,” Elena put her hand on the latch and pulled, but nothing happened. She tugged on the latch with both hands, but the door refused to budge. She frowned. The crossbar wasn’t in place. The door wasn’t locked. Why wouldn’t it open?
Heart pounding, Elena spun around and ran downstairs to the kitchen, only to find that the back door wouldn’t open, either. What was going on? It wasn’t locked. Why wouldn’t the darn thing open? And what if it had? She willed herself to stop and think. Even if she could get into the garden, what good would it do her? There was no exit, no way over the high wall.
She had to get away, but how? The windows in the main hall were too high, too narrow. The doors wouldn’t open. She was trapped inside the castle. With a vampire.
Feeling as though her feet were made of lead, she returned to the main hall and sank down on one of the sofas, hugging her handbag to her chest. What was he going to do to her? Images of Drake bending over the neck of one of the muggers flashed through her mind. Was that to be her fate, as well? Was that why he had let her stay here? Why he had agreed to marry her?
Smoke hopped up beside her, a low purr rumbling in his throat as he nudged her hand.
“Stupid beast,” she muttered, and then, with a sigh, she dropped her handbag on the floor and stroked the cat’s head. Smoke purred loudly, the noise soothing somehow. As she continued to pet the cat, her panic was swallowed up by a sense of well-being. She was safe here. There was nothing to be afraid of. If Drake had intended to kill her, he would likely have done so by now.
Suddenly weary, Elena stretched out on the sofa and Smoke curled up beside her. The cat’s purring, softer now, lulled her to sleep.
The sun was setting when Elena awoke. She bolted upright. He would be here soon. What should she do? What would he do? She was alone in the castle with a monster. Even the cat had abandoned her.
Springing to her feet, Elena ran to the front door. Maybe it would open this time. It had to open now, before it was too late.
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