Don't Bite the Bridesmaid

by Allee, Tiffany

  The cruise ship was exactly what he’d expected: gaudy, brilliant, and fake. Brass colored metal bars ran everywhere, keeping patrons from falling to their deaths off walkways into common areas. Purple and maroon carpets, beaten down by the feet of thousands of travelers, covered the floors.

  He loathed it.

  But Alice grinned at the false luxury surrounding them, and even laughed at the sight of a garish fountain that sported a lion’s head with a stream of water cascading from its roaring mouth. For a brief moment, he wondered if he’d misjudged her.

  No. Bad taste and all, she was still dangerous.

  “God, isn’t this terrible?” she asked, pointing out an abstract sculpture of geometric designs crisscrossing, brightly colored to match the decor surrounding it.

  “I thought you were enjoying the place.”

  “Oh, it’s horrible. I love it.”

  The opposing sentiments of her words didn’t seem to bother her, so he didn’t push for clarification. If she could love and hate it, who was he to call her crazy?

  They turned the corner into the dining area, and a loud scream sounded from across the room. A tall blonde, at least six inches taller than Alice’s five-foot-three inch frame, flung herself into Alice’s arms. And high-pitched chatter, streaming almost too fast for him follow the actual words, filled the air.

  A couple of minutes passed while he stood awkwardly next to Alice and the woman he assumed had to be her sister. Feeling forgotten, and more than a little annoyed with himself for the spike of loneliness that followed, he crossed his arms and did his best to look like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Cindy, this is Noah. Noah, this is my sister, Cindy. The bride.”

  Cindy’s smile was vibrant, like her sister’s. But her eyes were serious when she shook his hand and examined him. She looked a lot like Alice. The same blonde hair adorned her face—albeit in a shorter, more modern cut than Alice wore—and she had the same brown eyes. But he didn’t feel the same energy in her, the same vibrancy.

  Cindy Shepard was a more cautious soul than her sister.

  “Nice to meet you, Noah.”

  “Likewise,” he replied, “and congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Cindy turned to Alice and added conspiratorially, “Wait until you see the young hunk Mom brought.”

  “Lucinda!” A high-pitched voice called from only a few feet away.

  Cindy winced. Noah stepped back to avoid being trampled by the slight woman that rushed past him. An older version of Cindy pulled the bride into her arms, then Alice.

  Alice made the introductions after extracting herself from what turned out to be her mother’s arms, introducing Noah as a friend. The woman gave him a big hug that forced his breath from his lungs. He stiffened in her embrace and patted her awkwardly on the back. A soft yearning touched his chest, and he wrestled with the temptation to relax into the hug.

  When was the last time someone had hugged him?

  He stepped away from Edna Shepard and shook himself mentally. He needed to keep his shit together. This wasn’t his family. It was an acting gig.

  “It’s so nice to meet a friend of Alice’s,” Edna said. Her words dripped with speculation, and she reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “She’s been hinting around about bringing you for weeks, of course, but getting details out of this girl is impossible. She’s so tight-lipped.”

  Noah stifled a laugh. Alice and tight-lipped didn’t belong in the same sentence, so she must have blurted her intention to bring a friend, and then spent weeks finding someone to fill the position. He shot Alice a glance and there was a warning in her eyes. Didn’t her mother know his presence was a farce?

  “Now that I see you though, I can see why.” She eyed him up and down, and he felt an inexplicable blush crawl up his neck. “You are a prince, aren’t you? If I were a couple of decades younger—”

  “Mother!” Alice and Cindy said simultaneously.

  “Don’t fret, he knows I’m teasing,” Edna said, but the glint in her eye belied her words, and he couldn’t help the real smile that forced itself onto his face. He took her hand and kissed the back of it, and she laughed and made her way to the next group of family members.

  Alice tugged on his shirt and led him to a buffet that seemed to be for their party alone, if the chatter amongst the guests was any indication. He selected a couple of things he particularly enjoyed: fresh fruit and a turkey sandwich. He didn’t have to eat normal food to survive, and it didn’t do much for him, but keeping up appearances was important. And he still loved the taste of strawberries.

  He glanced at Alice’s plate when they sat down at a table full of her cousins. A large hamburger and French fries. And a giant slice of chocolate cake.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You don’t believe in healthy eating, do you?” he asked, but when her smile faltered, he regretted the words. “I’m not saying you need to,” he found himself clarifying, “you’re in great shape.” His eyes flashed over her sundress-adorned body, now mostly blocked from his view by the table between them. But every delicious curve was burned into his memory. He felt himself start to harden in his jeans and whipped his focus back to her face.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, her attention on her food.

  “I’m not saying—”

  “Drop it, okay?” Yep. She definitely thought he’d been critiquing her appearance. Dammit. He should clear the air, but that could be misconstrued. And he couldn’t afford for her to think he cared. She might get it in her head to pursue him.

  And he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist her.

  They ate in silence, then Cindy came by to tell them it was almost time for miniature golf. Alice emptied her plate, despite his comment, which brought a smile to his face. The woman wasn’t going to change her lunch because of what she thought was a critical statement about her figure. Good for her.

  “Lucinda!” A loud voice called, hitting an octave that made Noah cringe. Edna waved from across the room, and Alice’s sister waved back.

  “One sec, Mom,” Cindy called back. Then to Noah, “She’s the only one who ever calls me by my full name.” He wasn’t sure if she was just making conversation, or if he was being very specifically warned not to call her Lucinda.

  Alice turned to him and Cindy went to tend to her mother.

  “So I guess I’ll catch up with you later?” he asked.

  A quizzical expression touched her face. “But we have miniature golf.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, whoops, guess I forgot to mention golf. Cindy had a few more things planned than I thought.” She shifted her weight and looked at her fingernails, as if checking for a flaw in her manicure. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  He gritted his teeth at the thought of spending even more time in Alice’s company, with her tempting scent and sparkling smile. He could resist for a week. Only a week. One week of his very long life.

  “Sounds good,” he said. Besides, what was the worst that could happen while playing miniature golf?

  Mini-golfing, as it turned out, was very dangerous. Alice bent over her club at the ninth hole and examined her route carefully, and Noah did his best to keep his eyes away from her lithe form.

  Nearly twenty of the guests had turned out for the mini golf after-lunch game, but they’d divided into groups of four to six, and everyone moved pretty slowly through the course. The only good thing about the whole situation was the fact the course was indoors—this particular one, anyway.

  “Fore!” Alice called before taking her swing. She flinched as the bright purple ball bounced off of the windmill under which she’d tried to shoot it.

  He grinned when she turned around to complain about the obvious design flaws in the course.

  “I’m not entirely sure you can blame the course, dear,” Edna said, and Alice shot her a dramatic glare.

  “Just because you obviously paid extra for a magic ball doesn’t mean t
he course isn’t flawed, Mother.”

  Noah chuckled and took his own shot, and then laughed outright at Alice’s cry of outrage as his ball rolled through the windmill and right up to the hole.

  “Beginner’s luck,” Alice muttered, her anger obviously feigned.

  He’d told Alice the truth. He’d never played miniature golf. Apparently, even after two hundred years, the world still held its new experiences. He wished he could make The Council understand this. Then he wouldn’t be stuck on this ship, trying too hard to keep his desires at bay. He wasn’t accustomed to being new at anything, so he was relieved to find all it required was a healthy dose of coordination and a little luck. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the best of their five-some. Edna Shepard had him by two swings. Apparently, when it came to mini-golf, Alice’s mother had better reflexes than a vampire.

  They played through another four holes before one of Alice’s swings ricocheted her ball off a clown’s face to connect with the side of Noah’s head.

  He glared at her, rubbing the back of his skull and feigning pain.

  “I’m so sorry!”

  He couldn’t help the grin that rose to his face at her horrified expression. “You’re going to have to swing harder than that to take me down.”

  A tentative smile rose, but her blush remained. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Here, let me show you how it’s done,” he said.

  She quirked an eyebrow at him and lined the ball up again. “Okay.”

  “Set your legs a little farther apart, and keep your wrists straight.” He closed the distance between them to help her with her stance and ignored the little jolts of electricity that ran up his fingertips as he touched her softly on her shoulders, then her arms.

  “Bend here,” he murmured, touching the small of her back, a slight brush of his skin on her dress. He was close, too close. The smell of her filled his nose and he fought not to lean in and see if her hair was as soft as it looked.

  She took in a quick breath. He stepped back.

  “Don’t swing like it’s a baseball. Tap it.”

  She swung at the ball slowly, and it rolled forward into the hole.

  “Yes!” Alice yelled. She bounced up and down a couple of times and then gave him a quick hug before pulling back with a dazzling smile on her face. “Thank you.”

  His reply caught in his throat.

  She seemed unaware of his discomfort. Turning to her sister, she said, “Next game is all mine.”

  Alice performed better through the next few holes. She didn’t break any records, but no balls flew at his head either, so he counted that as a win. Noah went first at the last hole, and managed his first hole-in-one for the night. Alice cheered him on, and he gave her a mock bow.

  “I have to make a call,” he said when Alice positioned herself to hit the final hole.

  She waved at him and he walked to the entrance of the golf area, handing his club off to the attendant along the way. Glancing around to ensure he was as alone as possible when trapped on a ship with thousands of tourists, he hit Charles’s name on his phone. It rang through to voice mail.

  “Call me when you get this. I need an update.” He hit end and then tracked down another number on his contact list and dialed it.

  “Yeah,” an emotionless voice said.

  “What’s happening, Alex?”

  “Charles requested an audience. Could be a couple of days. They aren’t happy you left the city,” Alex replied, his tone still calm.

  Noah had the sudden urge to reach through the phone and shake the detached man on the other end of the line. Alex was old, older even than Noah, and he didn’t even bother to pretend to feel things anymore. He hadn’t always been that way, but centuries of life would do that to a vampire. And Alex had been old when Noah was made vampire. His lack of humanity was exactly the sort of thing the bonding was supposed to prevent in Noah, but he’d be damned if he’d let The Council decide his fate like that.

  “I’m not going through with it.”

  Alex snorted, and Noah tensed. That was the closest thing to emotion he’d heard from his friend in far too long.

  “Unless they give you a stay, you will go through with it, my friend.”

  Noah tapped his fist lightly against the wall, forcing down the urge to really hit something. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? The Council wasn’t disobeyed, not when it really mattered. And they took bondings very seriously.

  A fact Alex knew all too well.

  “It’s not so bad,” Alex said.

  Now it was Noah’s turn to snort with derision. “You’ve been bonded for five years and haven’t set eyes on your so-called bride since the wedding.”

  “Exactly. Like I said, it’s not so bad.”

  Noah ran his hand over his hair, not sure what to say, but unable to hang up just yet. Alex was loyal to a fault, and he always did what he needed to in order to help his friends, but it had been a long time since he’d displayed much humor. It was a treat, but held dangerous hope.

  “I don’t want to be tied to someone I don’t at least care for. Hell, I don’t want to be tied to any woman. Not like that. Not even for a mere decade or two.”

  Long silence filled the line. “It’s…a responsibility,” Alex said finally.

  Alex didn’t say what they were both thinking, although the little he said was true enough. It was a responsibility. One that had kept Alex around the last five years. One that would keep him alive—whether he wanted to be or not—for another five. A heavy weight settled on Noah’s chest at the thought of his friend being gone.

  Like humans, vampires varied in their appearance and personalities, but nearly all shared a sense of duty and honor to their fellow vampires. It was something ingrained culturally and had been for centuries. And though it was treated as a trait—a sign of the mental fortitude and control required to make it as a vampire—Noah had long suspected even more than mental character was at play. That magic was behind their need to preserve the lives of their fellow vampires.

  And if one vampire died, his or her bondmate died as well.

  This fact meant bonding was not only used to connect vampires who wished for something deeper than human marriage, but also to give life to older vampires through the psychic connection. The bond allowed younger vampires to gain strength and much-needed control, and gave older ones a chance to fall in love with life again.

  “I don’t think—hell, Alex, I know I don’t need a bonding.”

  “Because you aren’t yet so tired of this life that you’re suicidal—so the forced bonding would be worthless to you?” Alex asked, bitterness lacing his tone. “That’s what Charles will tell The Council. Two hundred or no, you haven’t hit that place yet where you need a bondmate to tie you to this life. In all likelihood, they’ll grant you a fifty year stay. Then you’ll have a few more decades before they’ll propose this again.”

  Noah nodded to himself and then stepped even closer to the wall as a large group of young college-age students—party-goers, not wedding guests, he would bet—passed him on their way to miniature golf.

  “How are you doing these days?” Noah asked, then immediately regretted the impulse.

  “Just as tired as always, my friend.”

  The line clicked and Alex was gone.

  Noah shook his head. He’d do anything to help Alex, but decades of trying to pull him out of the shell into which he’d bound himself hadn’t worked. The bonding The Council had forced on Alex hadn’t revived him either. He certainly couldn’t do anything during a five-minute phone call. Frustration burned in his chest. Alex was a good man. A strong warrior. A loyal friend.

  He didn’t really believe Alex was suicidal, but he showed all of the signs of a vampire nearing the end of his life. So he’d been bound to a bride, which tied his fate to hers. And like most of his kin, Alex wouldn’t take the life of a young vampire in order to soothe his own pain. So his continued life—for the time being—was guaranteed.

 
“Hey, there.” Alice still wore her bright smile, but tentativeness shadowed it now. Had something happened while he was on the phone? He glanced behind her but didn’t see anything amiss.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” She shook her head, then more firmly, “No. Do you want to go relax for a few minutes? We have a little over an hour before dinner.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He followed her down a hallway and up several flights of stairs until she stopped at a room and used her keycard to open the door.

  “Is this your room or mine?” he asked, peering in from the doorway. The suite appeared spacious for a cruise ship room. A large bed equipped with a dizzying bedspread took up most of the room space, with a loveseat and dresser filling the rest of the room. Propped up high was a flat screen television. A small table—nightstand size—was the only other furnishing inside the room. But sliding glass doors led to a small balcony on which he glimpsed a couple of chairs and a table. Alice’s family had spared no expense on the rooms.

  Most importantly, heavy curtains were pushed to one side of the door, which would allow for near total darkness during the daytime.

  He caught sight of his bags—sitting right next to hers—just as she turned with guilt written all over her face.

  “It’s our room,” she said.

  She’d expected a reaction from that news, but she didn’t count on the flash of panic on his face that quickly settled into anger.

  “It’s our room?” He stepped past her and walked through the space.

  “There’s a small pullout in the couch,” she said, waving at the small love seat. Even the nice rooms on the cruise ship weren’t exactly spacious, but they only had to coexist for a week.

  “There’s no privacy!”

  “It’s plenty private. The bathroom has a door. And the room and bathroom are more than twice the size of a standard cruise ship room, so really, you’re getting more space than you should have expected.” Her mother might not be outlandish in the way she spent her rather large fortune, but she had spared no expense when it came to her daughter’s wedding. The rooms were more than adequate and were a far cry from standard cruise ship fare. “Haven’t you ever been on a cruise before? They don’t really book one to a cabin.”