Her Vampire Husband. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
stood there. Intensely. The room had melted away and only she existed beside him. How strange. The two of them alone, reluctant symbols designated to save two struggling nations.
Creed shook his head to clear the weird notion from his brain.
Still she did not regard him. Of course it may be difficult for her to cast him a friendly glance. She must be nervous. As he was.
No, not nervous, but expectant. So far things were going far better than he’d expected. She was gorgeous. That, at least, took the sting out of this humiliating event.
As the officiant began to speak, Creed could not focus on the dry words.
She is gorgeous.
Her body is killer.
And those lips and eyes! Not to mention breasts he could suckle at for hours.
But what’s with the hair?
Feeling something he’d not experienced in years—a fine sheen of perspiration—Creed forced himself to listen and not play the fool by missing a prompt.
Such determination lasted a few seconds.
So this was what the werewolves would sacrifice to gain peace? Creed exhaled. A tilt of his head caught the flutter of her thick lashes as she looked over the black roses now clenched to her breast. A fine prize, she.
For a werewolf.
But for a vampire?
“And in joining together a marriage recognized by the United Nations of the Light and Dark, the two of you seal a pact, a promise of peace between the werewolves and vampires,” the officiant recited.
No priest for this ceremony. Creed did not put stock in the human religions, though he did believe in the existence of a God. He wasn’t sure what the werewolves believed in. Didn’t matter.
“Will you, Lord Edouard Credence Saint-Pierre, take this woman as your legal wife, protect and secure her, honor and provide for her, love and cherish her?”
Sounded reasonable enough. Though the love and cherishing part may prove a challenge. Hell, he’d no intention of submitting to either.
Creed smiled at his bride, who did not look his way, and said, “I will.”
The officiant nodded, and asked the same of the princess Blu Adagio Masterson.
Creed wasn’t sure why the word obey was not included in her vows. Should be in there. Without question, the man was the leader and master of the household. How modern times had distorted the positions of power between a man and a woman. He still struggled with it.
When prompted for a reply, the princess suddenly looked at Creed. Soft gray eyes widened at sight of him. Red lips parted. Such white teeth, bright as the diamonds at her neck. She searched for something. Did her eyes water, perhaps to tear?
Glancing over her shoulder, she sought the masses. Did she look for a means to escape? For one strong soul to step forward and rescue her from what she surely felt a horrific fate?
Until now, Creed had not considered her personal sacrifice. The wolves branded vampires with the vile invective longtooth. She could be no different. It must appall her equally as it did him to enter this marriage.
“Princess?” the officiant prompted.
Give your answer, he persuaded calmly. Do not make a fool of me or you will regret it for generations to come.
Turning her gaze to Creed’s, her bright eyes told him his persuasion had not permeated her thoughts. Vampires never could persuade wolves—or any paranormal, for that matter. Creed wasn’t sure why he’d even tried it. Now was no time to institute his magic, either. Not when a couple witches from the Council were in attendance.
Her gaze slid down his neck, skipping along the jet buttons of his Armani suit, and averted to the faery at her side. The faery nodded encouragement.
When the princess took Creed’s hand in hers, the heat of her flesh startled him. Like his, her skin was a little moist. She was nervous, too.
With the slightest twitch, one side of her red lips curled, she silently promised him she was in for the ride.
“I will,” she declared boldly.
A rousing hoot from the crowd could not have come from a wolf, Creed decided. But the resulting applause was immediately hushed.
Creed nodded acknowledgment to her. The werewolf’s smile slid from her red lips, and she dropped his hand. Contact had been so brief, he wondered if it had even happened.
“You’ve the rings?” the officiant prompted.
Creed drew the ring from his pocket, sized especially for his new wife. He held it up for the crowd to see. Subtle whispers clattered through the room. All knew the meaning of the gift.
He slid it onto Blu’s finger.
Blu? For a woman with green hair? And who wore body-revealing silk and clutched black roses on her wedding day?
What in hell was he stepping into?
“Titanium for strength,” the officiant announced, describing the ring. “And in the glass chamber, witch’s blood. A sign of the vampires’ willingness to cede to the werewolves.”
And a deadly weapon, Creed thought as he let go of the ring. Witch’s blood from before the Protection spell had been lifted. Which meant one splash to a vampire’s flesh would burn the average vampire alive, reducing him to ash.
Of course, the werewolves had overlooked a pertinent detail regarding Lord Creed Saint-Pierre. Though he wouldn’t dismiss the blood could have its damaging effects on him. Or perhaps not. Might it actually aid him? He couldn’t risk finding out.
His bride plucked a ring from the petals of her bouquet and held it high for all to see, before taking Creed’s hand. She fumbled with the bouquet, not sure how to hold it and put the ring on at the same time. Finally, done with it, she tossed the bundled roses out to the crowd.
She offered Creed a had-to-do-it smirk and shrug, and slid the ring onto his thumb. A perfect fit.
“Titanium for strength,” the officiant again announced. “And filled with liquid silver to show the werewolves’ willingness to cede to the vampires. I now pronounce you lord and lady Saint-Pierre. Please kiss your bride, Lord Saint-Pierre, and begin the path to peace.”
Quite a profound demand: Begin the path to peace.
It was all on his shoulders now. Hers, as well. But she merely had to stand there, shifting on her feet and sneering those glossy lips, defying him to dare kiss her.
He would not, no matter that her lips were thick and soft and wouldn’t they be the most exquisite to kiss? He could prick them and suck the blood for an evening treat.
Creed leaned in and, keeping his head tilted before the crowd, brushed her cheek with a kiss. His shoulder-length hair concealed their connection. No one would know if he’d kissed her mouth, save he and she.
She. His new wife.
A wife who flinched as his lips brushed her skin.
How dare she?
She was no better than he. She had walked the aisle, willingly entering into the marriage. There were certain expectations to be upheld. And he would not allow her to dodge them.
Gripping Blu’s bare shoulder, Creed pulled her to him and captured her soft lips against his mouth. She mumbled a protest.
He kissed her harder.
The kiss was not at all distasteful, as he had imagined. Much better than most kisses, actually. And her efforts to push him away only fired his desire to pull her closer. To mark her before all, so they would know she was his.
Only when his fangs descended,