A black BMW 7 Series pulled up from the opposite direction Ryan had left. No streamers or shaving cream announcing the newlyweds decorated the classy vehicle. Thank the goddess. The vampire lord stepped out and opened the passenger door for her.
Blu stood clutching her arm where Ryan had squeezed her and took in Lord Saint-Pierre. About as tall as Ryan, which put him a head taller than her, yet more lithe, not so bulky. Streamlined muscle did stretch beneath the fancy suit. Charcoal hair spilled onto his shoulders. She liked dark hair on men, but not vampires.
She did not like vampires. And that was all that mattered. He may be the most handsome and stylish man for miles around, and still he would not turn her head.
Sliding inside the car, Blu did take note of his manners. No man had ever held the door for her. It wasn’t entirely offensive.
They drove in silence for what seemed forever. Away from the rush of the ceremony and in the quiet confines of the BMW, Blu moved her hands up her bare arms, mining for warmth. The air-conditioning blasted.
What to say to one’s new husband whom she’d known less than ten minutes?
“Turn that down,” she blurted. “You want an ice cube for a wife?”
“Sorry.” He grimaced. Flicked the control knob to Off.
More miles of quiet followed. Creed tapped the steering wheel, but didn’t offer conversation. The radio was not on, which Blu would have preferred, and the interior was soundproofed from outside noises.
Blu could not stand uncomfortable silences. Life was to be lived, loud, proud and wild. “Up all night, sleep all day” was her motto.
But now she appreciated the sharp silence.
Never mind he was her husband. Her vampire husband. That creeped her out on so many levels.
How to converse with someone she had no interest in?
She tangled her fingers in the glossy strands of her wig. Maybe ask him how he dared to kiss her like that in front of everyone? So brazen. So freakin’ dominant. Hadn’t she suffered the alpha males enough? This little foray was supposed to be a vacation away from all the testosterone she literally breathed daily living at the pack compound.
Thinking of testosterone…
She could still taste the vampire on her mouth. It wasn’t like blood—she wouldn’t know that taste—but it wasn’t like her lover’s taste either. This taste was different. In ways that shouldn’t intrigue her but did.
“You spoke to my father,” she stated. Okay, so the silence was beginning to grate on her.
“Principal Masterson is a fine man. The leader of the Northern pack?”
“Since Severo stepped down.” She looked out the window. Raindrops spattered the glass.
Severo. The former principal of the Northern pack who had stepped down to become a lone wolf. He’d married a vampire last year. He had been the one to suggest this idea to the Council and to encourage her father to put her hand in for this ridiculous scam.
Why could they not use his marriage as an example?
Blu recalled something about Severo’s wife being changed to vampire only after they had fallen in love. Supposedly it wasn’t the same situation.
It was a good thing Severo had not been at the wedding. Blu knew exactly how hard she’d swing a fist at him when she did see him. Hard enough to draw blood. A loose tooth would serve the icing on the cake she hadn’t gotten to taste this evening.
“So,” she said, “what are we to do with ourselves? You’re taking me to your home?”
“Yes, I live at the edge of the suburb, but more in the country.”
“What are your intentions?”
“You are my wife. I had assumed we would do the married thing.”
“The married thing.” She tapped the rain-streaked glass with a knuckle. “What does that imply exactly?”
“Living in the same house. Appearing to others as a couple. Conversation.”
She waited for him to summon further examples but he did not. Because he could not? He was not so pleased with this arrangement either, she bet.
At least they had one thing in common.
“Sex?” she prompted.
“Of course.”
“You wish.”
“The marriage must be consummated.”
“The Council’s idea of consummation is not sex.”
“You would take my bite?”
“When hell freezes over.”
The car swerved sharply, shoving Blu roughly against the door. She sensed her husband’s smirk as he pulled through an automated gate and onto a cobbled driveway that curved before a three-story brick mansion.
Supposedly her new hubby lived in France during the summer months and wintered in Minnesota. He’d moved back to the States a few months early after agreeing to the marriage. What a freak. She’d take the glamour of Paris all year if given an opportunity.
The estate fronted by climbing vines initially impressed Blu until she decided it wasn’t so grand. Her father’s compound covered more acreage, and the pack probably owned more surrounding land—no thanks to the greedy vampires.
“Big mansion,” she remarked. “You must have servants.”
“Gardener and Housekeeper.”
Short, to-the-point answers. Wasn’t he the one who’d suggested marriage implied they converse?
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a real conversationalist?”
The car abruptly stopped and he shifted into Park. Blu jammed her heel into the floor mat to keep from lunging forward.
Twisting and leaning his forearm on the steering wheel, Creed turned to her. “Let’s get things straight between us, shall we? I can assume we are both uncomfortable with this arrangement.”
“Hallelujah.”
“Yet while I have vowed to myself, and my tribe, that I will do everything in my power to make this work, for the sake of both nations, I suspect you have made no such personal vow.”
“Vows are so medieval. I’m just here for the show, Credence.”
