Page 8 of The Vampire's Bride

When it is my turn, I stare deep into her lovely green eyes and solemnly repeat the ancient words. “Blood of my blood, bone of my bone, I give you my heart as we two become one.”

As soon as the ceremony is over, Juliet’s mother rushes forward to hug her in a crushing embrace. Still joined by the ribbon wound around our hands, I stand at arm’s length, affording them as much privacy as I can.

I find it odd that her mother and brother are so upset, but her father stands off to one side with a scowl on his face, not even a hint of sadness in his features.

The priestess walks up beside me, the deep lines of her face etched with concern. “The gods have shown me a vision of your future,” she says in a low voice, meant only for my ears. “Would you care to know what I see, Vampyr?”

I know enough of the old gods to understand that visions, like prophecies, can be both a gift and curse, and all too often can be easily misinterpreted. It would probably be wiser to leave the future unknown, but I am desperate to protect Juliet from my curse. “I only wish to know one thing. Tell me: can I save her?”

“That depends,” she replies. “Would you sacrifice your life for hers?”

I have heard others speak of the fated bond, but I never knew how strong and how fast it could take hold. As I gaze at my new bride, fear grips me in an iron vise. She is the other half of my soul. But she is human. And humans are nowhere near as strong or resilient as my kind. I have only just found her and already, I am terrified that I could lose her. “Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “I would.”

“You will know the choice you must make when the time comes. Trust the gods to direct your path.”

Frustration burns in my chest at her cryptic answer. “The gods abandoned me long ago,” I reply bitterly. “Why should I trust them now?”

I expect anger in response to my words, but instead I see only pity shining in the priestess’s eyes. “Nyxara—the Goddess of Night—has not forsaken you.” Her gaze holds mine evenly. “Find your faith again, Vampyr. Fate is the hunter and it comes for you soon.”

Ice fills my veins. Swallowing hard, I push down my concern and turn my attention back to my wife. I will do whatever it takes to spare her from my curse.

Juliet bids a tearful farewell to her family. I’m surprised when her mother bravely wraps her arms around me as I imagine she would a true son-in-law and whispers in my ear. “Please, swear you will be good to my daughter.”

When I pull away, I meet her eyes evenly. For as long as I draw breath, I will cherish Juliet and protect her with my life. “You have my most solemn vow.”

Her mother gives me a watery smile. “Thank you.”

I’m about to lead her away when Juliet’s father approaches. His face has been set in an emotionless mask this entire time, and I wonder if he’s about to finally break down. Instead, he points to her necklace. “Give that back to your mother.”

Shock flits across Juliet’s face as she clasps her hand tightly around the pearl. “But I—”

“It’s hers,” her mother says quickly. “Her father gave it to her.”

I’d assumed Buryk was her father, but it seems I was wrong.

“That necklace belongs to our estate,” he insists. “Now, hand it over.” He doesn’t even wait for her to respond before he starts to reach for it. Juliet steps back and his fingers catch on the pearl, breaking the thin chain from around her neck.

Lightning fast, I grip his wrist, squeezing until I feel the bones beginning to give.

He yelps, futilely trying to break free as panic and fear contort his face.

A deep growl vibrates in my chest. “Put your hands on her again, and it will be the last time you have hands,” I grit through my fangs. “Do you understand?”

Tears stream down his face as he nods repeatedly.

Reluctantly, I release him and he stumbles back, cradling his wrist to his chest.

“Here.” I reach down and pick up the necklace, handing it back to my wife. “We can have it repaired later.”

I’m vaguely aware of Juliet’s mother and brother gaping at me. But when I look at Juliet, I’m surprised that instead of fear, I find gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmurs, slipping the broken necklace into a hidden pocket of her dress.

I dip my chin in a subtle acknowledgment.

She hugs her mother and brother again, exchanging tearful goodbyes.

Anger courses through me as I glare at her stepfather, nursing his wrist in the corner of the temple. I should have killed him. I still might.

I’m tempted to march over, and do just that, but I don’t know if my wife would be grateful or horrified.

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