123
I stand at the dais, the human ceremony over, the vampire ceremony going on and on, and try not to bite my lip in consternation over the fact that my husband has yet to meet my eyes this whole time.
When he’d said he’d marry me, but added ‘that is where it ends, Cat,’ I’d wracked my brains trying to think what he might mean.
I felt sure, immediately, that he was going to pull out of the ceremony at the last minute, but I couldn’t work out why he said he would go through with it if that was the case.
Either way, I wasn’t left to hyperventilate or spin into total despair for long; I was escorted out for the ceremony just half an hour after the door had slammed behind him.
Still, even as I’d entered the cathedral I’d expected the roof to crash in upon me.
But no.
I’d walked down the aisle, unattended and unchecked, to where he stood, his brother and Lord Dragonspur by his side, both their expressions grim.
The human vows had been exchanged, the cameras had flashed, the film crew had zoomed in on the ring and our kiss, perfunctory as it had been. And after a brief respite to allow all the humans to leave, the next ceremony had begun.
Again, I’d expected Jag to suddenly call a halt to the proceedings.
Yet here we stand. Just he, I, and the priest.
The cathedral is filled with vampire guests, each more elaborately dressed than the next.
While they probably understand the intent behind the laboriously long sermon the priest is performing, it’s in a language I’ve never heard, with incomprehensible vows we repeat at intervals.
I have literally no idea what’s being said.
All I know is that once this is over I’m Jaguar’s wife. Viscountess Speardon. Immortal and untouchable.
‘And then I’ll have to work to win his heart as he’s won mine. Even though he has no idea. I have to make him keep me as his wife. My God, he’s so angry. But so beautiful, like a vengeful angel standing here beside me. If only his anger wasn’t directed at me, this would be the perfect night.’
At the rear of the cathedral the occasional vampire lady wipes her eyes. I assume she’s moved by the ceremony. Others glare at me. Some have jealousy stamped all over their features.
But it’s the pair at the front who hold my attention.
Lord Dragonspur and the cheating whore Lady Angelina Dragonspur.
She stands staring at Jag as though he’s the pride of her life, her eyes shining, while her husband stands straight-backed beside her, his demeanour businesslike, determined.
If I didn’t know better I’d say he’d forced Jag into this marriage to divert his friend’s unwelcome attentions from his wife.
‘No, Falcon isn’t a man who’d brook any kind of philandering or cheating.
Given his reputation, I bet he’d murder a stadium full of people if he thought a single one had disrespected her.
She owns his heart, lock, stock and barrel.
Anyone seeing them together wouldn’t for a second doubt that she feels the same about him.
Yet, there’s still something else, something between her and Jag. Something he didn’t fully deny.’
I narrow my eyes at her as her gaze finally shifts from my husband to me.
Her eyes widen slightly at my malevolent glare.
‘Yes, bitch. I know. But I’m not like you; I kill for what I want.’
I turn my attention back to the man beside me as the vampire priest stops talking and Jag raises my wrist to his lips.
‘Finally!’
Holding my breath, I wait for the bite owed to me since he had not managed to kill Valentino.
The crowd is hushed now, and I feel the warmth of his lips as they brush my skin, but nothing more.
“Jag,” I whisper. “Bite me!”
A full minute passes before he finally raises his eyes to meet mine.
When he does, they’re ice cold, perfectly matching his grim expression.
He looks away and raises my wrist to the now-cheering crowd, his thumb covering the spot he was supposed to bite, as he murmurs low to me.
“Never.”