Fanged Love

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  She is a vampire. I never wanted this for her. Correction, she never wanted this and, therefore, I am saddened by this turn of events.

  She wraps the towel around her petite frame and then looks up at me. “I did it. It’s my fault.”

  “How so?” I frown with confusion.

  “Before I left France, I knew our mercenaries were still here, trying to catch the last hunter. They said they’d almost cornered him, but he slipped away. Then you and I spoke at the convention center and talked about Stella leaving France early. I rushed outside and immediately tried to call them so they wouldn’t be surprised and accidentally hurt her—they weren’t expecting any of us home until yesterday. But when I called, no one answered. I worried that something was wrong and caught the first plane here.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you failed to make contact with the mercenaries? You only said you went to check on Stella in case any hunters were at her home.” I let out a groan. I hate that Neli did not trust me with this information, but part of me wonders if it is not my fault. I am not so forgiving when it comes to mistakes.

  “What could you have done that I couldn’t? Also”—Neli blinks, tears forming in her eyes—“I didn’t want to disappoint you. You’re always saying how inferior I am, which is a total crock, but I knew you would never let me live this down. I’d be hearing about it for the next three centuries.”

  She is correct, but that is still no excuse. “Stella could have been harmed. You were harmed. And that is more important than pride.”

  “I know.” She sighs remorsefully. “I did manage to call in a favor with Vincente and ensure Stella encountered a few travel delays.”

  “Vincente is still alive?” He is an old acquaintance from my Transylvania days, and as any vampire knows, there really is no such thing as immortality. Just ask Kylgorii. Sunshine happens.

  “Yeah. He works for Homeland Security now. The night shift. He’s apparently very skilled at sniffing out bombs, and the benefits are really great—medical, dental, 401k.”

  “So, in other words, he is still batshit crazy.” Vampires do not require such “benefits.”

  “Exactly. Anyway, I got home early in the morning and wasn’t sure what to expect, so I snuck in through the secret tunnel in the wine cellar. Someone attacked me from behind, and then I woke up buried in a grave the next night.”

  “So you do not know who killed you?”

  “No. But I’m guessing it was one of our private security guys. They probably realized I wasn’t the hunter and tried to cover it up. There’s been no sign of them.”

  “Or perhaps it was the vampire hunter who killed you.”

  “No. He wouldn’t have bothered with burying me. I’d be charcoal dust right now.”

  I am not so convinced. If they thought she was human, they would not have burned the body.

  “Either way, I caught that last hunter. He was my first meal, and I’m afraid I forgot to question him before I dined.” Neli turns and heads into her bedroom. I follow. “I just wish I’d been more careful. I knew the mercenary guys were setting traps all over the place.”

  Our own security did the deed? I will have their heads! “Oh, Neli. I am so very sorry that you will no longer be my major-dorko. I know it must distress you greatly; however, I assure you that you can continue to launder my shirts and run my winery.”

  “Are you for real, Boz? My life is over! I’m a freakin’ vampire! And you’re talking about your shirts?”

  “And running my winery,” I point out.

  She huffs and shakes her head of wet red hair. “You just don’t get it.”

  “But I do. I do get it.” Issue No. 30, Psychology Today. “You are experiencing a great sense of loss. You feel as though your identity has been taken from you. I am merely attempting to provide you with a sense of normalcy while you advance through the stages of grief. Denial, anger, depression, and acceptance.” I scratch my scruffy chin. “Or is it depression, then anger? I cannot recall. But the point is, I am here for you. And when you are ready and have completed your grieving, I shall assist you in finding your very own slave. Someone who will watch after you and, more importantly, whom you may insult as much as you like.”

  Neli looks at me from across her bedroom, a frilly pink affair, and then rushes toward me, delivering a firm hug around my midriff. “Oh, Boz.” She sniffles, and I feel a rib crack.

  “Ow. Ow.” I attempt to unlatch her from my frame, but she is very strong. “Okay,” I grunt, “baby vampire. Easy on the prince now. Stella would like to marry me in one piece.”

  Neli pulls away. “You’re getting married?”

  I nod with a smile.

  “Oh my God. This is wonderful news.”

  It truly is. I get the girl of my dreams, and I no longer have to continue deceiving Neli about giving her the true death. Also, Neli is now free to explore the world and find her own fanged love when she is ready. It may take a while, though. I heard our old friend Nicephorus, widely known as Mr. Nice, has kidnapped the author team of Pamfiloff and Gilmore, forcing them to write my story faster. The crusty old vampire is a romantic and very eager for my wedding. As am I.

  “I’ll plan your wedding,” she says excitedly. “Give me some time to make it perfect. It will be my wedding gift to you both. How’s after harvest?”

  “But I am quite horny and need to bed my bride as quickly as possible.” Neli understands that I will want to wait until the wedding night to give this honor to Stella. “I cannot afford to wait months for such an event.”

  “Boz. Please. You only find your mate once in your existence. It has to be done right, in the old tradition.”

  She looks at me with those green eyes. I can deny nothing to her. Neli is like my little sister. Or distant cousin. Or a coveted pet, perhaps. Either way, she is family. “Very well, but please be sure to hurry.”

  “Give me a few weeks, and I promise it’ll be the most amazing wedding since Prince Pamfilovamimivich married Meshica Mermana.”

  “Oh no. All that gold? I prefer something more in the tradition of the Great Kylgorii Gillmoreanu.” His marriage to Errika the Impaler still lives in infamy to this day.

  “You got it. One Gillmoreanu wedding for the record books coming right up.” Neli smiles up at me, flashing a little baby fang, and my heart warms. I can already feel her soul settling into her new vampire body. I know she will find peace. And she will make a very excellent vampire. She had the best to learn from.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Stella

  I can’t believe the torture Boz has put me through over the last three weeks. He insisted we wait for our wedding night to be together. I assured him it was perfectly acceptable in this day and age, but true to his ancient, gentlemanly ways, he politely declined. “A vampire only marries his mate once, and it must be done right.”

  And then he bit my neck and gave me another one of those mind-blowing orgasms.

  Seriously, I can’t even imagine how he’ll be in bed if just nibbling on my neck brings me to the point of insane ecstasy. I’m pretty sure my head will explode tonight.

  It’s finally our wedding day. I’m dressed, my makeup is done, and Mom is putting the finishing touches on my hair. Mabel and Eliza have been cooking up a storm for over a week. It was Boz’s idea to have them cater “the nuptial feast for the human guests.” Neli provided a list of traditional Transylvanian wedding dishes to inspire their creations.

  Speaking of Neli, I’m not going to lie, seeing her transformation has given me a new perspective on becoming a vampire. Someday. Maybe? I know it wasn’t what she wanted, and it did break my heart that I was partially to blame (had I just stayed in France, she wouldn’t have died), but Neli assured me that she felt surprisingly happy. “I love being able to levitate. It’s so much fun!” she’d said.

  I then asked her if Boz could bond with me, since she was now free of him. I wondered if that might be a way for me to have my cake and eat it too. I could stay human, walk in
the daylight, have children, and eat normal food. I would stop aging and be with Boz forever. It turns out it’s a possibility.

  The only downside of me accepting the bond is that, at some point, we will have to tell my family the truth. They’ll notice that Boz, Neli, and I aren’t aging. Whether they accept us or not, I’ll still have to face the heartbreak of watching them grow old and die. After giving it a lot of thought, I know my parents would never want to become vampires. They’d see it as unnatural, cheating the cycle of life—something they’ve always felt passionate about. Watching things grow, serve their purpose and die, like the grapevines, is a sort of natural poetry to them. As for the twins, I don’t think they’d want to trade their love of culinary arts for anything, and from what I understand, in speaking to Boz and Neli, vampires think human food smells like a giant outhouse. So, yeah. I think I can safely say that vampire land is out for my family.

  Someday, I will have to face the inevitable. But not today. Today, I am marrying the love of my life. A man who has waited over eight hundred years for me.

  Dad steps into my room. “Sweetie? Everything okay?”

  I beam at him, noting how handsome he looks in his red and black tux. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

  I stand from the vanity stool and take one last look in the mirror. My makeup is understated and natural looking with the exception of my bright red lipstick, which matches my red lace dress. It’s not the white I imagined for my wedding day, but according to some ancient Transylvanian tradition, everything must be red. And poofy.

  “The red symbolizes life. Passion. Blood of our ancestors,” Neli said, insisting we all had to wear red. The poofy stuff, like my huge dress with a hoop skirt, is just some royalty thing from long ago.

  “You look gorgeous, honey.” My mom whisks a tear from beneath her eye. “And I’m really warming up to the Romanian theme.” She glances down at her red pantsuit. Her dark hair is up in a bun.

  “You look fantastic, but…I think you should wear your hair down. It will go better with your outfit.”

  I understand there are over three hundred vampires attending the ceremony and dinner. No reason to expose tempting necks. On our side of the family, it’s only sixty guests—cousins, aunts, friends of the family, and my friends from school and college. Neli assured me the vampires won’t dishonor Boz by touching his guests, but better safe than sorry.

  Hide that neck. I pull the pin from my mom’s hair and straighten out the locks. “There. That looks way better.”

  She gives me an odd look. “I see your nerves are finally kicking in.” She laughs. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” We follow my dad downstairs.

  The twins join us in matching poofy red dresses with black shawls. They do a couple of spins to make the dresses swirl. “Take it for a spin,” Eliza says to me.

  I do a twirl for them, and they clap. I smile. “You both look beautiful.”

  “You too,” they say in unison.

  The moment I step outside and feel the cool night air on my cheeks, my heart starts beating uncontrollably. I’m beyond nervous.

  “Wow. Would you look at that,” Mom exclaims.

  I follow her gaze to the enormous horse-drawn carriage a few yards away. “Wow is right.” It’s like something out of a dream, straight from some old Victorian movie, made for a princess, complete with candles inside lanterns to light the way. Every inch of the outside of the carriage is covered in red roses like a float in a parade.

  “Wait. Are those horses dyed red?” Mom asks.

  I look. It’s dark outside, but I definitely see red. “Yes. Those are in fact red horses.”

  “Wow. Neli really left no detail undone.”

  “Did someone say my name?” Neli appears out of thin air with a camera in hand, causing us to yelp. I might’ve screamed.

  “Neli,” I growl under my breath, “how about not scaring the crap out of my family with your superhuman speed?”

  “Oops! Sorry. I’m just so excited,” she whispers before returning her voice to a normal volume for the benefit of my family. “Wait until you see the banquet hall and ballroom. You’re going to love it! Now time for pictures.” She makes us pose for what seems like an hour. “Okay. I think a hundred pics of this moment should do it for the wedding album. Don’t want to be late.”

  A hundred photos of just that? How big will this album be?

  My dad helps me into the carriage, followed by the rest of my family, and then joins us. Neli closes the door.

  “Aren’t you coming with us?” I ask her.

  “I want to get some photos of you driving away. I’ll see you in a minute.”

  I hope she doesn’t beat us there and open the carriage door. My family will definitely get suspicious. Or freak out.

  The driver, who’s sitting outside at the front of the carriage, starts pulling away. “Neli”—I lean my head out the little window—“I forgot to ask, who is officiating the wedding?”

  “An old friend, Nicephorus.”

  What a strange name. I sit back in the carriage, trying to keep my hoop from smacking my chin and showing off my red silk lingerie to my family. Neli insisted I wear some very skimpy teddy outfit made of lace from Boz’s hometown. It’s supposed to be good luck.

  Good luck. Does such a thing exist for a vampire? Luck? Goodness? “Oh, God. I don’t feel so well.” I’m marrying a vampire. I’m marrying a vampire! An unnatural creature of the night. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Stella, honey, just breathe,” says Mom.

  “It’s normal to have wedding-day jitters,” Dad adds. “And just remember, your mom and I would never allow you to marry some creep. Boz is a good man, and I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You’re making the right choice—and if I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t have sold the winery to him.”

  “Boz is awesome!” Eliza says.

  “Truly,” Mabel says.

  I suddenly just don’t know. It’s all happening so fast.

  The carriage arrives, and there’s a photographer waiting to greet us. “Oh, thank God.” I’m not up to explaining Neli’s supernatural speed. I’ve got enough to worry about.

  I step out first, followed by my family. According to Neli, it’s tradition for both parents to give the bride away to her new “vampire lord.” Boz assured me that wording was simply the ancient nomenclature and did not mean he would own me: “We will be equals in every way, Stella. Except in bed. I will be your slave and dedicate myself to your every whim, your pleasure.” I liked that answer. A lot.

  We pass through the open front door, and there is music playing that reminds me of something I heard in a movie once. Flutes and drums. It has a Renaissance vibe. I wonder if jugglers and fire-breathers are waiting in the ballroom. I hate that I had no say in planning this wedding. I love planning! What was I thinking? This is all wrong!

  I stop. “I can’t do this.” But just as I speak those words, Neli appears just outside the closed doors of the ballroom. I didn’t notice before, but she’s wearing a strange-looking red and black milkmaid outfit with a little apron. Her red hair is now braided in two pigtails.

  “Let me guess,” I snap, “your outfit is tradition.” I don’t want to say anything to insult her because I know how hard she’s worked to put this wedding together, but I can’t contain my feelings. “I’m sorry. None of this is how I imagined.”

  She gives me a smile, one that I know is genuine because it lights up her green eyes. “Stella, that’s the point.”

  “Sorry?”

  “The tradition isn’t red and black or anyone having to wear a particular outfit. The custom dictates that the colors, the theme, the music, and even the food must all be something unique. It is a symbol of the couple. There has never been a love like yours, because there has never been another Boz and Stella. There never will be. Therefore, your wedding can’t look like anyone else’s.”

  Oh my God. That’s kind of beautiful.

  “Awww…how romanti
c,” Mom says.

  “Strange,” says my dad. “I was researching Romanian weddings and never read anything about that.”

  “It’s a very, very old custom from Boz’s ancestral village,” Neli chimes in.

  Yeah. I bet it’s old. “I think it’s a wonderful tradition.” The nontraditional wedding as a symbol of the couple’s one-of-a-kind love. “Why didn’t you mention it before?”

  “And ruin the surprise?” She shrugs. “That’s also part of the fun of a Gillmoreanu wedding. It’s a symbol for life. The bride and groom don’t know what lies ahead, but whatever happens, they’re in it together. I mean, obviously, I couldn’t keep all of the details a secret since dresses and suits are involved. But the rest, I assure you, will blow your mind. You like clowns, right?”

  Oh God. I hate clowns.

  “Just kidding.” Neli laughs. “You’re going to have the time of your life tonight. I promise. So, are you ready? Because I hear a flute playing the wedding march,” she singsongs and opens the door to the ballroom. She gestures for the twins to go in to their seats.

  I can see straight down the aisle. At the end, Boz waits in his black tux with a red bowtie. My parents are beside me, and there are hundreds of people in there, most of whom I can’t see, but it just doesn’t matter. All I see is him and those dark, seductive, loving eyes. Everything else fades away—my doubt, my fears, my nervousness. I suddenly hear his heart beating alongside mine. How? I don’t know, but I hear it. And I know. He is my fanged love. We are a once-in-an-existence kind of love.

  I smile at Neli. “Thank you. It’s the most perfect wedding ever.” With my parents by my side, I begin my march down the aisle, never wanting to look back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Boz

  “Wow. That was some wedding!” Stella jumps into my arms. Now that we are in the privacy of my bedchamber and the guests have finally left, I am eager to spend what remains of the night with her. I did say I’d be her slave in the bedroom. And Neli made sure to include it in my part of the vows: I pledge to share my life openly, speak the truth, cherish her, and encourage her fulfillment as an individual throughout our lives. Clearly, fulfillment is a sex thing, but first…