2. The Newlywed Game
Chapter two
The Newlywed Game
Julian
T he Savannah streets were narrow and crowded as we drove to the reception.
Trolley buses made them even more congested.
The sound of the tin cans clanking behind my car was a stark reminder of what had just happened moments ago.
I briefly glanced over at my beautiful bride while navigating the streets full of tourists waving at us, enthusiastically responding to the Just Married sign on the trunk.
I could scarcely believe I was a wedded man again. It had been many a year since I could claim the honor. I’d sworn I would never be a husband in my state, but the circumstances required it.
Nicolette refused to wave back at our well-wishers, refused even to acknowledge me—just as she refused to believe I found her lovely. I couldn’t fault her. Why would she trust a bastard like me?
Yet her blood and body sang to me in a way no other’s ever had.
Her blood carried the scent of earth after a cleansing rain, and her willowy curves begged to be claimed.
I resisted, knowing what it would mean if I gave in.
We would be bound then, irrevocably. Nothing but death could sever such a bond between vampire and human.
No one understood why intimacy between our two kinds forged that tether, only that it did.
Those who crossed the line often regretted it, consumed by an obsession that devoured them both.
I would at least spare Nicolette that. Especially knowing that she despised me.
And even when she hadn’t despised me, I knew her feelings for me weren’t real.
They were compulsion—the pull of what I was.
Nicolette leaned against the passenger side door, trying to stay as far away from me as possible on our short drive. The reception was conveniently being held at the same hotel where I had rented the penthouse suite. It was where we would live together as man and wife for the time being.
Man, I silently scoffed. I had not been a man for many years. My recent actions, no matter how noble I believed them to be, only proved that I was more of a monster than a man.
“Nicolette,” I sighed. “It doesn’t have to be this way between us.”
She gripped the door handle, refusing to look at me.
“You’ve threatened me, humiliated my father, and now embarrassed me in front of every city and business leader. Spare me the lecture.”
Her words cut, and though I felt the sting, a twisted part of me still found pleasure in it.
“No one thought twice about your actions,” I said softly. “You behaved like an excited bride.”
She snapped her head toward me, her green eyes blazing, telling me without words to go straight to hell. If only she knew—I’d been there for decades already. Centuries, really.
“I haven’t been to many weddings,” she hissed, “but I’m fairly certain most brides don’t shout like they’re in the throes of passion.”
I smirked, unable to help myself, replaying her outburst in my mind. My amusement only stoked her fury.
Her lips curled, supple and defiant, before she turned away, shutting me out once more.
If she only knew the danger she was in, she would thank me for marrying her. My name gave her protection—the shield of one of the most formidable vampire families.
Nicolette had no idea the firestorm her mother had unleashed with her porphyria treatment. What began as human science had become something far more dangerous once its implications for vampires came to light.
More importantly, it hinted at the impossible: a chance at being human again.
Cyrus and I recognized what a miracle this might be.
Our greatest wish was to rid ourselves of our endless life.
But we both knew there would be others of my kind who feared it, feared what Grace Hart’s research might uncover next.
You don’t disrupt an ancient culture without some ramifications.
My biggest worry was that they would do anything—kill anyone—to ensure her work never continued.
And now Nicolette carried that legacy, whether she wanted it or not.
Yet, I needed my new bride to do just that.
Finish what her mother started. In my estimation, at thirty-two, she was more brilliant than even her well-published mother.
Even Cyrus, with all his years of studies and travels around the world, didn’t hold a candle to Nicolette’s intelligence.
Not that I would tell him so. It already miffed him that he had to behave as a nanny in the lab, watching over her.
There was no one I trusted more to protect Nicolette while I ran the business side of Hart Labs.
Wallace Hart ought to be grateful as well.
Not only was I protecting his daughter—and him—I had given Hart Labs a new stream of income.
Vampires paid dearly for the chance to walk in daylight, to silence the gnawing hunger.
Demand was so great that I’d created an entire division to manage it.
The board adored me. Investors adored me. Everyone adored me.
Everyone except Nicolette and her father, who I’d allowed to stay on as chairman of the board.
Perhaps my ultimatum—marry me or die—had been too blunt. I hadn’t said I would be the one to kill them. I hadn’t denied it either. They needed to understand the gravity of the situation.
“Darling.” I reached across the console, daring to catch a silky strand of her golden-red hair between my fingers as the light turned red.
She folded into herself, fighting the pull. Her pulse quickened, her body warmed—physiology betraying her even as she resisted. It pained me to watch the battle, knowing I fought the same one.
“There’s no reason for us to be adversaries,” I murmured. “You might even find it fascinating—being married to someone like me. Think of it as research.”
Her scoff was sharp, her scowl sharper.
I couldn’t resist. My finger traced the heat of her cheek, her blush a silent confession. “You are lovely.” Reluctantly, I dropped my hand back to the wheel, though every nerve ached to do more.
“You don’t have to lie when we’re alone. Or touch me,” she warned.
“I do not lie,” I said, voice low, unyielding. “You are beautiful.”
She turned with narrowed eyes, making her button nose scrunch. “Please don’t joke like that. I know what people think of me, and I don’t need you mocking me. You heard them all as I walked down the aisle.”
“They all spoke of your beauty.”
She waved her hand up and down her lithe body. “This isn’t me. You dressed me up like a Barbie doll today.”
“I didn’t dress you up. I just showed you what you’ve been hiding from.”
Her mouth fell open. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Did you not express to me that you felt as if you were hiding behind your baggy clothes out of fear that people would see you and be disappointed? Or worse, feel as if you didn’t live up to your mother and father? Today, I tried to put your worries to rest.”
Rage struck her delicate features. “I told you that before I knew what you were and I thought you genuinely cared for me,” she cried. “How dare you remember those things.”
“Nicolette, I know you won’t believe me, but I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t care.”
It was true. I possessed tender feelings for her, and I felt honored that she had entrusted me with her insecurities.
She laughed dryly. “Nothing says I care like threats of murder and coercion and the theft of my company.”
“Sometimes those things are necessary.” I offered no excuses.
She clenched her fists, eyes shut, breathing deeply as though she could exhale me out of existence. “Just stop talking to me,” she begged.
“Unfortunately, that’s not an option. You and I will play the part of loving newlyweds. Do you understand?”
The world—and every vampire family—needed to believe we were passionately in love.
Even my own family had to believe it so they knew the risk they were taking was worth it.
And the others? They would think twice before harming Nicolette.
She was a Rossi now, and that name carried unspeakable protection.
Her fists loosened, falling into her lap—save for her middle finger, raised in silent rebellion.
I chuckled. I liked her fire.
She grimaced and retracted the gesture, knowing she’d been caught.
“Speaking of clothes, now that we’re married, it would behoove you to get a new wardrobe. We’ll be attending business and civic functions together, and people will take you more seriously as my wife if you dress accordingly.”
“It would behoove me?” She rolled her eyes.
“Yes, it would.”
“Oh, well, if it will behoove me, Your Highness .”
I snapped my head toward her. “I’m not lording over you like a tyrant, Nicolette. These are facts I’m stating.”
“You’re just worried about me embarrassing you.” She bent to rub the ankle she’d twisted walking down the aisle.
“I’m not worried about that in the least.” I found her quirkiness to be endearing. “But I know it’s something you worry about.”
She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling.
I sighed. “I’m not trying to be callous or play on your fears. But the fact is, you are my wife now, and with that comes responsibilities. Your days of obscurity are over. How is your ankle, by the way?”
“It’s fine,” she retorted, though her voice quaked, betraying her.
I wanted to tell her that perhaps someday we could dissolve our arrangement.
But the truth was, even if she gave me a cure, her life would be in greater danger.
She would have to remain a Rossi for the rest of her days.
She and I may even have to disappear. My parents had promised Cyrus and me protection if we were ever able to end our immortality, and I was sure others in our family would do the same, but it wasn’t exactly something we wanted to advertise.
And it might have been a moot point. I had yet to broach the subject of a cure with Nicolette. First, I needed a truce.
“I’ll get an ice bag for you when we arrive at the reception.”
“Don’t bother.”
“I can’t have my bride’s ankle hurting during our first dance as husband and wife.”
“Dancing?” she said, panic rising. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t dance. And if you hold me close like that, who knows what I’ll do?”
The possibilities made me press my lips together, fighting a smile. I’d had to stop her from shedding her clothes before.
“Just follow my lead, darling,” I said, amused. “And I promise you will remain fully clothed.”
She curled her lip. “I really hate you.”
I laughed, unable to help myself.
The rest of our drive was a silent affair.
I pulled my Bentley in front of the hotel off the Savannah River, where Amos, the valet and member of the family , waited for us. I’d specially chosen Amos to oversee hotel security. His martial arts skills and gray morals made him deadly.
Nicolette ceased breathing as she gazed out across the Savannah River at barges so big it was a wonder they could float. The river was a reminder of her mother’s accident and death. They’d found her car submerged in the murky waters.
I had to wonder about the timing of it all, but no one suspected foul play. I myself had even looked over the medical examiner’s report, just to be sure. All the evidence pointed to her dying as a result of a single-car accident that left her unconscious and subsequently caused her to drown.
Still, the timing troubled me.
Unfortunately for my bride, there was no way of getting away from the river that was the lifeblood of the city.
Reaching out, I held Nicolette’s hand. “I’m sorry, love. I know how much you miss her.”
Before she knew what I truly was, she had shared her grief with me, even allowed me to comfort her. I realized I missed that ease between us. How strange. I rarely missed anything anymore. When one lived as long as I had, one learns how fleeting everything is. To miss things was to invite misery.
For a moment, she forgot her hatred. She gripped my hand, inhaled, and steadied herself. Seconds later, she realized what she was doing.
“Ugh.” She discarded my affection. “What is it with all your terms of endearment? Do you expect me to be so flowery in public? What should I call you? Pookie bear, shnookums . . . maybe fangs?”
Her sarcasm bit, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. Even in her defiance, she was exquisite.
Amos’s hearing, sharp as any Rossi’s, caught her jab. Thankfully, he laughed.
With a glance, I warned Nicolette to play her part. She paled, realizing her mistake.
“Sorry, honey,” she ground out. “It’s been a long day. You know how I get when I’m hangry.”
I leaned closer, casting her an adoring gaze—though my eyes lingered on the plunging neckline I’d chosen for her. She looked ravishing, just as I knew she would.
“No apology necessary, darling.”
Her weak smile followed. “Shall we go, fangs?”
I chuckled, stepping out of the car.
Amos opened her door, flashing me a furtive grin. “Bit o’ trouble in paradise already?”
He had no idea. And I intended to keep it that way.