Page 4 of Married to the Vampire Prince

Grace’s heart was beating quickly, her blood making a shimmering sound to my sensitive ears. She was afraid, and thethought troubled me even though I understood the source of her fear.

Me. I was the reason she was scared.

Anybody would be afraid of being married to a monster.

Grace’s reaction to my proposal had hurt me, more than I wanted to admit. However, I fully understood her reservations. Any other woman chosen to be my wife would have been shaking in fear as well. I was under no delusion that Grace had accepted me because she wanted to be with me. She had only said yes because in this country nobody could refuse a royal’s proposal.

It didn’t matter that I was no prince charming, that I was a monster instead.

I needed ruby blood to ward off the encroaching insanity, though. With every year beyond my hundredth, I found it harder and harder to live with the strange thoughts that came into my mind. Twisted, scary images sprang up uninvited in the form of waking nightmares each evening. Sometimes horrible thoughts plagued my mind during the daytime too.

The time had finally come to drink ruby blood to fix myself. I needed a wife so I could have a constant source of the delicious, healing blood. In recent years though, no human candidate had caught my attention – until Grace.

Grace was… something else. A beautiful woman. A radiant soul.

I hated that I had to be the one to become her husband. She deserved better. Yet a selfish side of me disliked the thought of her with someone else.

She was mine. I couldn’t let her go. I wouldn’t let her leave me.

The conviction hit me like a wall of bricks. Where had this possessiveness come from? Grace was a stranger; I had known her for only an hour, yet already I wanted to monopolize her.

The limousine stopped. Maxwell, my butler and driver, came out of the car and opened the passenger door for us.

“We’ve arrived, sir,” he nodded at me, then smiled at my guests. “Allow me to welcome you to the royal palace.”

Grace and her parents shared skittish looks.

I got out of the car, extending my hand to Grace. She stared at it for a moment like she feared touching me, but finally she put her much smaller hand in mine. The feeling of her heated skin was a pleasant surprise. Humans were much warmer than vampires, weren’t they?

I helped Grace out of the car.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the royal palace. I took a look at my home, trying to imagine the sight through her eyes. The building had been erected in a neoclassical style with a white facade and tall columns spanning the height of two stories. A beautifully carved tympanum hid the roof.

The windows were tall, the curtains open during the evening. As a precaution, the servants always drew the heavy curtains closed during the day to shield us from sunlight, though every vampire had a sun ring which protected us from being burned. However, the bright sun was still unpleasant to look at, so I preferred the house to remain dark during the daytime.

Since the palace was home to vampires, we operated on a different schedule from humans – we were active during the night and rested during the day. Vampires didn’t sleep but we liked to spend some time lying down and meditating. Resting in this way helped keep our minds fresh and sharp.

“Do you like your new home?” The question fell from my lips before I could think better of asking.

Grace gave me a startled look, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Y-Yes…” Her words were barely a whisper, but I heard her fine.

Warmth came into my heart, and my fear about asking her opinion evaporated instantaneously. A small warmth bloomed in my dead heart. I was… happy that she liked the palace. Why did such a simple thing clear the gloom in my soul?

Puzzled, I simply nodded, not saying anything more to her.

I gestured forward and started walking towards the building. Grace fell into step beside me, and I slowed down my strides so that she would have no trouble keeping up.

Maxwell ran up ahead of us to open the large, heavy entrance doors and alert the servants of our approach.

Grace’s parents followed behind us, silently.

We climbed the ten steps up to the entrance. Maxwell kept the door wide open for us, and we stepped into the palace.

The chandeliers in the foyer were lit, illuminating the marble floors and stucco walls with a bright, warm glow. On either side of the long red carpet leading over to the giant staircase stood rows of servants, their heads all bowed.

“Welcome back, my prince,” they all called out, their words synchronized.

Grace gasped, taking in the servants and the grandness of the foyer.

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