Bound by Flames

“You’re serious?” I got out without sputtering this time.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Leila, I’m serious. Need for me to get on my knees again?”

“But I’m blue,” I said, stunned into more nonsensicalness.

“The color should fade within the hour,” Mencheres offered, backing out of the room to let us handle this ourselves. “Not that any of Vlad’s people would dare comment if it didn’t.”

I stared at Vlad, seeing the raw, steely determination in his gaze.

“You know that I consider you my wife, as do my people, but our previous ceremony was legal by human standards only. In the vampire world, it counted as nothing more than an engagement because you were human and thus unable to swear the required blood oath. You’re a vampire now, and I don’t want to wait any longer to have everyone know that you have been, and will always be, my wife.”

He took my hand, sliding a thick, heavy gold ring onto my finger that I hadn’t seen since Szilagyi had captured me.

“Mihaly returned this with your skin to taunt me, but I swore that if you lived, I would see it on your finger again,” he said in a deep, resonant voice. “Months ago, you made me ask you if you would marry me. This time, I’m not asking. I’m telling you to say yes, so say it, and be mine for eternity.”

I looked at the ring, so moved to be wearing it again that I almost didn’t notice the startlingly blue color of my skin. Then I looked at Vlad. His expression was darker with intensity and the grip he had on my hand was both warm and unbreakable.

In some ways, he intimidated me more now than he had the day I’d met him. Vlad loved the same way that he lived—untamable, dangerous, and full throttle, just as he’d warned me. I’d felt the repercussions of that love more than once and I’d feel it again if I said yes, yet like before, I only had one answer.

“Yes. Yesterday, today, forever . . . yes.”

Chapter 24

Our first marriage took place in the ballroom of his castle with over two thousand witnesses cheering us on. The air had been thick with the scent of flowers and beeswax candles, and I’d worn an exquisite white dress while Vlad had been decked out in scarlet and black like a medieval king.

This time, we were in a villa in Vegas and I wore a simple blue dress that thankfully no longer matched my skin tone. As Mencheres promised, my blueberry shade had vanished within an hour. Vlad was dressed in black pants and a black jacket, his white shirt the only contrast to the dark ensemble. Our witnesses consisted of my sister, Marty, Mencheres, Kira, and about two dozen of Vlad’s guards. Either Vlad hadn’t invited my father or my dad had refused to come, because he wasn’t here. Instead of cheering like our witnesses had last time, everyone was almost eerily quiet.

Vlad drew out a knife, the blade cut down until less than a quarter inch remained. I saw a few raised brows but only I, Vlad, and Mencheres knew why it was so short. I couldn’t kill myself with that if I had a solid hour alone with it to try. Even with my hand in his, Vlad still wasn’t taking any chances.

The blade might be only the size of a thumbnail, but it was sharp. With his fingers still curled around mine, he scored a line from one side of his palm to the other, then pressed the cut to the inside of my hand.

“By my blood,” he said in a strong, steady voice, “I declare that you, Leila Dalton Dracul, are my wife.”

His part was now done, no clergy member, justice of the peace, or notary necessary. What a vampire marriage ceremony lacked in formalities, it made up for in significance. Much like the spell in my skin, only death could break the vow I was about to make.

Even so, I wasn’t the slightest bit nervous as I took the knife and scored a line into my own palm. “By my blood, Vladislav Basarab Dracul, I declare that you are my husband,” I said in a clear voice before handing the knife back and pressing my bloodied palm to his.

His lips curled with a familiar arrogance, as if he’d never doubted that I would bind myself to him this way. Maybe he hadn’t. I wasn’t a big believer in fate, but as his mouth sealed over mine in a kiss that rocked me back on my heels, I felt more sure of this than I had of any other decision before it. Call it fate, inevitability, whatever; right now, I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and my soul felt like it took in a deep breath to remember the moment.

My body wasn’t in a meditative mood. As Vlad kissed me, it flared with need so strong, even I could smell the lust that started pouring off me. I’d almost died more times than I cared to count in the past few weeks and our future was still uncertain. Claim what’s yours, don’t wait, something inside me seemed to insist, stamping out embarrassment beneath an ancient, inhuman urge that was raw, powerful—and undeniable. Wasting even a moment seemed almost criminally ungrateful.

From the tightening of his grip and the new, rough carnality in his kiss, Vlad felt the same way. Our guests scattered as he tore away long enough to mutter, “Get out,” before backing me against the nearest sturdy object.

I crushed my mouth to his, needing each stroke of his tongue and the hot, bruising pressure of his lips. His clothes were obstacles that I took no pity on. They fell in a ripped heap at our feet in my desperation to feel his skin on mine.

He didn’t bother ripping off my dress, just my underwear. Then he shoved the dress up, a dark sound of satisfaction escaping him as his fingers found my wet depths. I moved against his hand, my moans turning harsh as those fingers penetrated deep. His mouth ravaged mine as he began to rub with strong, fast strokes that had inner muscles clenching with an urgency that turned need into unbearable demand.