Page 92 of The Vampire's Bride

Aerlyx purses his lips. “Well, it’s good to know I’m useful for something. I’m glad my tragic predicament could bring you both some amusement today.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “And here I thought you two were my friends.”

Now, I feel bad. “Aerlyx, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He takes my hand and presses a kiss to the back of my knuckles. “Should you ever tire of your brooding husband”—he flashes a mischievous grin—“I would be glad to entertain you as best I can.”

“Aerlyx.” Valaric growls. “Unhand my wife.”

The Incubus rolls his eyes at my husband as he relinquishes my hand. “You know I’m merely teasing you, my friend. It’s so much fun, I cannot help myself.”

Valaric slips his arm around my waist, tugging me to his side, and something about the possessive gesture quickens my heart.

I turn to him. “What did Stryker’s messenger say?”

My husband’s expression turns grim. “He sent a formal invitation to the ball at Darkhall Manor. One that cannot be ignored.”

“Why?”

“Lord Stryker Blackthorne is the younger brother of the Vampire King of Morrowynd. To refuse his invitation could be viewed as a slight to their Great House, and by extension, the crown itself.”

That Stryker is related so closely to the king is troubling to say the least. “Can you not make an excuse?”

“I wish I could, but it is not that simple. I must attend.”

I am the daughter of a High Lord of Aralon, but everything I learned of that world pertained to humans. I am woefully unprepared to navigate the politics of the Vampire kingdom of Morrowynd. But Iamwed to a Vampire Lord of one of the Great Houses, and I need to learn as much as I can so that I do not inadvertently bring shame or dishonor to House Greyvale.

“I don’t understand. Why can you not refuse?”

CHAPTER 33

VALARIC

“Ours is one of the Great Houses of Morrowynd. It is necessary to attend these functions periodically to maintain our appearance, to remind others that we are”—I start to say unafraid, but instead settle upon—“important.”

Strength and power are everything to my kind. To not attend the ball would be viewed as a sign of weakness.

Juliet studies me intently, as if weighing something in her mind before she finally dips her chin. “It’s not until Saturday, so we have plenty of time for you to give me an idea of what to expect at this sort of event.” She pauses. “I’ve been to many balls, but none outside of Aralon, and I want to make sure I don’t commit some sort of social misstep when we attend.”

I balk at the mere thought of her anywhere near the ball. She has only seen a glimpse of the cruelty my people are capable of when she met Lord Stryker. I cannot fathom taking her to Darkhall Manor—to the heart of his lair, surrounded by othersthat are just as malevolent as him and his true wife, Davara. “You’re not going. You will stay here with Eben.”

“Why?”

“Because it is dangerous,” I reply, hating that I have to say this when I want more than anything for her to feel safe and secure.

“Your sigil is embroidered on my clothing,” she points out. “You said that would deter—”

“It willnotdeterhim,” I interject, speaking of Stryker. “Not now that he’s caught your scent.”

Eben and Aerlyx quickly slink from the room to give us privacy because it’s obvious that this will not be an easy conversation.

“My scent?” Her brow furrows deeply. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“As I mentioned before, I have not marked you with my venom.”

“But you told him I was your true wife.”

Juliet is human. And as such, Stryker and the others consider her beneath them. They will not care about her title or status. The only thing they would respect is the primitive marking that would alter her scent to match mine. “Yes, but without my mark, you can be viewed as unclaimed.”

“We were wed in a temple of the old gods,” she insists. “You are my husband and I am your wife. Does that mean nothing to Vampires?”

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