Page 54 of The Vampire's Bride

Sometimes I feel like he was the only one who ever truly saw me.

Valaric’s eyebrows lift in a thoughtful expression. “What do you write?”

“Adventure stories.” I pause, waiting for his reaction. No hint of distaste enters his expression, emboldening me to continue. “With a bit of romance as well.”

Actually, it’s far more than a bit, but I’m not ready to reveal that just yet. I’m still waiting to see how he responds to what I’ve disclosed so far.

“I enjoy reading books full of adventure,” he muses. “I would like to read one of your stories, if that is all right with you.”

I bite my bottom lip to contain the excitement bubbling within. This is the first time anyone has shown any interest in my work. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Rushing up the stairs, I retrieve my precious manuscript. Quickly, I carry it back down to the study and then present it to Valaric. My heart hammers as he takes a seat and carefully removes the ribbon holding the stacked, loose-leaf parchment.

He glances down at the first page—the title—murmuring to himself. “The Princess and the Knight.”

Hot embarrassment creeps up my neck. “The title isn’t final. It’s just… something I thought up to give it a name for now.”

He nods and then gently lays the title page face down on the table beside him so he can begin reading the first chapter.

A nervous knot forms in my stomach. I’ve never had someone actually read my stories before, and I’m both anxious and dreading to hear what he thinks.

Realizing that I’m hovering, I return to my seat on the sofa across from him, trying to pretend I’m not watching him closely, on pins and needles while I wait for his thoughts on my work.

He moves on to the next page and then lifts his gaze to me. “Would you like a desk for your writing?”

I’m surprised by his question. It’s more than my own family ever offered when I told them about my hobby. Mother thought it was scandalous for a woman of fine breeding to write stories. Especially ones with romance. She never once encouraged me, nor did she ever read them.

“I have one in my room.”

“I meant for here,” he explains. “You mentioned the view, and I thought… perhaps it might be conducive to—”

“Yes.” Softly, I bite my lower lip as I smile. “That would be lovely.”

He nods and then turns his attention back to my manuscript, while I pretend to study a book. Inside, I’m a flutter of nerves, waiting to hear what he thinks, for I can tell nothing from his impassive expression.

Time seems to move slowly as I wait for him to finish. Before I know it, a hint of light brightens the horizon in the distance, heralding the coming dawn, and he pulls the curtains closed.

I’m disappointed that he has said nothing of my story, but he’s not finished with it yet. So perhaps he is waiting until he’s done to give me his opinion.

“May I take this with me to read in bed?” he asks.

“Of course.”

I stand from the sofa and pick up my book. We can both read in bed before we fall asleep.

When he bids me goodnight and heads downstairs, I try my best to hide my frustration. I thought after spending the past few nights together in the inn that we would now be sharing a room, but it seems I was wrong.

I told Valaric I wanted a true marriage, but perhaps his definition of one does not include sleeping in the same bed as his wife. He wouldn’t be the first to do this, either. Lucy told me she and James were going to reside in different rooms after they were married.

It seemed rather unromantic, in my opinion, but Lucy did not seem bothered in the least.

As I lie down in my bed, my thoughts turn to my best friend. I remember nothing of Lucy’s wedding. The only thing I recall of that day is leaving in the carriage to attend the ceremony.

A cold shiver moves down my spine. Mother said I was beaten so badly I was nearly unrecognizable. I swallow hard, wishing once again that I could remember what happened, who assaulted me.

Not because I want to relive the trauma, but because I want my attacker brought to justice. I hate knowing that the person who tried to kill me is still out there, possibly preying upon someone else.

Strong winds buffet the windows, and I tuck myself deeper into the nest of blankets and furs as if that will somehow shield me from the dark thoughts that plague my mind.

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