Epilogue
Five years later
“It’s not working,” Kitty said as she crouched on the thick rug in front of her husband in her new Montmartre atelier. “You look like a strawberry.”
Cordon spun around, making the lime-green coat tails on his jacket flare. “Well, I think it’s marvelous.”
She snorted. “You’ve said the same thing about the last three suits.”
Not that she would disagree. Cordon looked extraordinary in nearly anything. Since their mating, his light-brown hair had thickened, and his pale complexion had warmed enough that he no longer looked as if he had crawled out of a grave.
The changes were reassuring, but also vexing, as she was constantly adjusting his wardrobe to account for his increasingly muscular frame and finding patterns and fabrics that had once complemented his coloring now made him look washed out.
“It is merely an afternoon visit,” he said, crossing his arms. “It need not be perfect.”
She shook her head. “I have a reputation to maintain. Anything that leaves my shop must be perfect.” She kissed his jaw.
“Especially anything you wear.” Then she stepped back quickly before anyone could notice them.
The atelier was busy, as it always was on weeknights, bustling with the six seamstresses she’d hired since settling in Paris.
It hadn’t been her intention to expand so quickly, but her fashions had proven so popular among the nests in France, she’d barely been able to keep up with the incoming orders.
Leaving London had been difficult, but every time she’d walked into her shop, she’d remembered what she’d done to Mr. Blaylock. Starting fresh in a new city had been exactly what she’d needed to forget that night, and Alyssa had been thrilled to take over the shop.
She tilted the polished obsidian mirrors so he could see his reflection.
The mirrors were one of the many accommodations her vampire clientele appreciated.
Like Cordon, many were uncomfortable seeing their clothing floating in midair.
The thick curtains covering the windows were another of her decorating choices.
Even the most stubborn sunbeam would not penetrate cotton-lined velvet.
She stood and circled her husband, examining the outfit she’d chosen for him.
The fit was correct, the lines excellent.
She had even designed it with pockets to accommodate vials of blood, a contingency she’d insisted upon since leaving England.
But there was something about the shape and the color that wasn’t quite right.
“Another spin,” she said.
He twirled again, and this time, the hematite buttons twinkled in the gaslight. They looked like seeds. That was the problem. She removed her shears and snipped the buttons off. When she was done, she removed the garment from him and folded it over her arm.
“Do you regret it?” she asked.
Cordon lifted one eyebrow. “Regret what?”
“Turning me.”
He scoffed. “Do you regret not taking Seraphina’s offer to make her gowns for the Sultan’s Ball?”
“No,” she said immediately. Saving Cordon had meant she’d missed the ball, but she’d had many more opportunities since.
She frowned. Cordon had distracted her. She’d spent countless nights by his side, learning how to be a vampire, but she hardly recognized him compared to the Cordon she’d first met.
That Cordon had been energetic, almost obsessive in his constant demands.
But since she’d awoken as a vampire, he had become almost suffocatingly protective.
Something was wrong, and she had a feeling she knew what it was.
“I have a gift for you,” she said, when the other vampires had left and they had retired to a settee.
He straightened. “A gift? Whatever for?”
She twisted her hands in her lap. “To thank you.”
He looked like he was going to argue but then widened his eyes and wagged his eyebrows. “What is the nature of this gift?”
She poked him in the chest. “It’s exciting.”
“‘Exciting’?” His voice was tight. “That sounds dangerous.”
She sighed. “I was only teasing.” She crawled onto his lap and ran her fingers through his hair.
“You’ve changed, Cordon. Don’t you remember leading me around the park nude on a horse at midnight?
I can’t believe I am saying this, but don’t you want to do something scandalous, like steal a carriage or challenge a man to a duel? ”
He snorted. “I did all of that before I met you.”
There was the Cordon she’d grown to love. “But I haven’t, and I’m finding I would very much like to. What do you think? Perhaps I should make my own list.”
He laughed. “Now that you’ve had a taste of adventure, you want more?”
She removed an envelope from her pocket and handed it to him. “Something like that.”
He turned the envelope over in his hands, inspecting it as if it were a bruised fruit.
She grinned. “Open it?”
He shook his head but cracked the seal, removed the parchment, unfolded it, then stared at it, wide-eyed. “This…”
“I particularly like this one,” she said. She leaned over and pointed at the first item on the paper. “‘Dance a waltz at night naked with a vampire.’ What do you think?”
He laughed. “This is a copy of my list! All you did was add ‘with a vampire’ to the end of each item!”
She grinned. “Yes.”
“I suppose I can’t let you do all of this by yourself.” He sniffed. “You might get hurt, or in trouble you can’t easily get out of.”
She nodded. “I was hoping you would say that. Perhaps you could assist me?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Only if I can add one more.” He removed a bit of charcoal from his pocket and scrawled a line at the bottom of the paper. Then he handed it to her. When she read it, she laughed.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She answered with a kiss that lasted until the first days of sunlight peeked over the horizon.
#102: Marry a Vampire.