Page 47 of The Vampire's Bride

I bathe and dress quickly, and when I return to the room, Elsie is already waiting. “Would you like to take your meal in here or in the dining room?”

After staying at the inn the past few days, I’d prefer to stretch my legs a bit. “The dining room.”

Our footsteps echo on the stone floor as we make our way down the hallway. It’s dark in here with all the windows covered by thick curtains, the only illumination coming from the golden lights hovering throughout the castle.

Given his nature, Valaric probably doesn’t require much light in his home, and I suspect Elsie and the others do not need it either. The dim lighting makes the entire space feel rather gloomy and I’m not quite sure I like it.

As if reading my thoughts, Elsie snaps her fingers and the lights brighten instantly.

This place is beautiful. The walls are adorned with tapestries and paintings of nature scenes and various battles. The furniture appears both elegant and comfortable, with beautifully carved dark wood and thick, plush comforters, pillows, and cushions on the beds, chairs, and sofas.

Elsie guides me to a grand staircase and gestures toward the floor below. “Downstairs is the study, the front hall, the kitchens, and the entrance to the gardens.”

“Where does Lord Greyvale take his rest?” I ask because we’ve passed no other occupied bedrooms besides the ones used by Elsie and her family.

“His rooms are beneath the first floor of the castle.”

It makes perfect sense for him to rest in a place with no chance of accidental sunlight exposure.

The main sitting room is rather warm and welcoming—something I didn’t expect given this castle belongs to a Vampire. Then again, I am learning that there are many things that are different from what I expected from my new husband.

As soon as we get downstairs, a distressed wail echoes down the hallways. She picks up her skirts, quickening her steps. “Excuse me,” she calls over her shoulder. “My daughter, Ava, and her mate, Cole, went to hunt. They left the little one with her Uncle Eben. It seems I need to go check on them.”

I follow after her and we find Eben trying to console a little girl in the kitchen. She looks to be around three or four years old, but she’s a Wolf-Shifter, and I’m not sure if they age at the same rate as humans.

The top half of her golden-brown hair is pulled back in a braid like a fae crown while the rest falls around her shoulders. She has silver eyes, just like her grandmother and her uncle, and her little cheeks are red from crying.

The kitchen is large but has a cozy feel to it. The long counter is full of chopped vegetables and sliced bread. A large oven sits directly across from it, along with a hearth and a delicious smelling pot of venison stew hanging over the flames.

Eben sits at a wooden table next to the counter. There are eight chairs, but it looks as though it can easily seat ten people comfortably. He lifts his head, a look of pure relief crossing hisface when Elsie takes the child from him. “I gave her somegarnilroot for the pain, but it hasn’t had time to work yet.”

Elsie props her granddaughter on her hip and gently smooths her hair back from her face. Tears stain her tiny cheeks. “My fangs, Nana. They hurt.”

“There, there,” Elsie says, kissing her forehead. “They’ll stop hurting soon.” She turns back to me. “This is my granddaughter, Kaely. Wolf-Shifters get their permanent fangs in around this age and it can be a bit painful.”

Kaely’s head whips toward me, her tears momentarily forgotten as she blinks several times. “Are you a princess?”

“No.” I smile. “I’m Juliet.”

“This is Uncle Val’s mate,” Eben says. “So that makes her your Aunt Juliet.”

Kaely’s face lights up. “Aunt… Juju,” she says, her little nose twitching as she tries to say my name.

I bite my lower lip to stifle a laugh. She’s so precious.

“Juliet,” Eben corrects her.

She furrows her little brow and tries again, but it still comes out wrong.

“Juju is fine,” I reassure her.

She wriggles out of Elsie’s arms and walks over to me. “Will you read me a story like Uncle Val does, Aunt Juju?”

“Uncle Val reads to you?” I ask, my heart melting at the image of my stoic Vampire husband reading a story to a child.

She nods.

“All right. What shall we read?”

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