rousing hoot from the crowd could not have come from a wolf, Creed decided. But the resulting applause was immediately hushed.
Creed nodded acknowledgment to her. The werewolf’s smile slid from her red lips, and she dropped his hand. Contact had been so brief, he wondered if it had even happened.
“You’ve the rings?” the officiant prompted.
Creed drew the ring from his pocket, sized especially for his new wife. He held it up for the crowd to see. Subtle whispers clattered through the room. All knew the meaning of the gift.
He slid it onto Blu’s finger.
Blu? For a woman with green hair? And who wore body-revealing silk and clutched black roses on her wedding day?
What in hell was he stepping into?
“Titanium for strength,” the officiant announced, describing the ring. “And in the glass chamber, witch’s blood. A sign of the vampires’ willingness to cede to the werewolves.”
And a deadly weapon, Creed thought as he let go of the ring. Witch’s blood from before the Protection spell had been lifted. Which meant one splash to a vampire’s flesh would burn the average vampire alive, reducing him to ash.
Of course, the werewolves had overlooked a pertinent detail regarding Lord Creed Saint-Pierre. Though he wouldn’t dismiss the blood could have its damaging effects on him. Or perhaps not. Might it actually aid him? He couldn’t risk finding out.
His bride plucked a ring from the petals of her bouquet and held it high for all to see, before taking Creed’s hand. She fumbled with the bouquet, not sure how to hold it and put the ring on at the same time. Finally, done with it, she tossed the bundled roses out to the crowd.
She offered Creed a had-to-do-it smirk and shrug, and slid the ring onto his thumb. A perfect fit.
“Titanium for strength,” the officiant again announced. “And filled with liquid silver to show the werewolves’ willingness to cede to the vampires. I now pronounce you lord and lady Saint-Pierre. Please kiss your bride, Lord Saint-Pierre, and begin the path to peace.”
Quite a profound demand: Begin the path to peace.
It was all on his shoulders now. Hers, as well. But she merely had to stand there, shifting on her feet and sneering those glossy lips, defying him to dare kiss her.
He would not, no matter that her lips were thick and soft and wouldn’t they be the most exquisite to kiss? He could prick them and suck the blood for an evening treat.
Creed leaned in and, keeping his head tilted before the crowd, brushed her cheek with a kiss. His shoulder-length hair concealed their connection. No one would know if he’d kissed her mouth, save he and she.
She. His new wife.
A wife who flinched as his lips brushed her skin.
How dare she?
She was no better than he. She had walked the aisle, willingly entering into the marriage. There were certain expectations to be upheld. And he would not allow her to dodge them.
Gripping Blu’s bare shoulder, Creed pulled her to him and captured her soft lips against his mouth. She mumbled a protest.
He kissed her harder.
The kiss was not at all distasteful, as he had imagined. Much better than most kisses, actually. And her efforts to push him away only fired his desire to pull her closer. To mark her before all, so they would know she was his.
Only when his fangs descended, and he feared accidentally cutting her, did he relent.
Yet he could use this moment. And he did.
Fangs bared, and wicked smile growing, Creed turned in triumph to the cheering crowd.
Chapter Two
AS THEY ARRIVED at the end of the aisle, Creed felt Blu slip away from his side. He let her go. There were more important things to do right now.
He would always have more pressing matters than tending to a wife.
“You did it, man!”
He received a congratulatory handshake from Alexandre and manly busses to both his cheeks.
“By ‘did it,’ you mean jumped off a high cliff and am now free-falling to my death?”
“Close, I’m sure. But what’s up with the chick’s hair?”
“She’s young,” Creed tried.
It was more a consolation than an excuse for her. Young and alarmingly sexy, she embodied vitality. Creed had felt truly ancient standing next to her.
He’d been transformed to vampire when he was a mere twenty-seven years old. He still looked it. Okay, so perhaps a handsome thirtysomething. But there were days Creed felt every one of his centuries like a weight upon his mind, shoulders and flesh.
“Her youth will serve you well,” Alexandre said on a sly whisper. “The younger ones are the most open to trying new things.”
His second in command winked.
“New things,” Creed muttered. Could this old vampire be taught new tricks? Without the innate need to simply steal them?
He hoped the werewolf could get beyond the naiveté of such youth. If she were to be his wife, she must be able to relate to him on an intellectual level. He would not babysit for a spoiled princess.
“Lord Saint-Pierre.” A tall, gangly gentleman with gray hair and veiny hands stepped forward. The pinstriped suit reminded Creed of a gangster, but the gentleman’s hooded eyes exuded genuine warmth.
Creed slipped his hand into Amandus Masterson’s. Though his new wife was called a princess, the father was not considered a king, merely the alpha, or leader of the pack. So he addressed him accordingly. “Principal Masterson, I am honored.”
“You should be. My daughter is a prize, in more ways than mere beauty.”
“I understand. She is a rarity. You have my promise I will protect and respect her.”
The pack leader nodded acceptance. “It would be foolish of me to ignore the fact she’s a feisty one. She’s a mind of her own, and is very stubborn. That awful hair.”
“She’s lovely. I can only hope to win her admiration.”
“You say all the right things, Lord Saint-Pierre.”
Indeed, he did.
“Now, let’s go have a drink with the Council and get the final negotiations settled. The marriage contract must be signed.”
“It would be a pleasure.” Yes, like pounding a nail into his coffin. “After you.”
THE COUNCIL had gathered in a small room off the main ballroom. The dull lighting
