Blood Bath & Beyond (32 page)

I added that last one in just because it felt right.

“Silence, huh?” I said after enough time had elapsed that I started to sense the negative outcome of this little tête-à-tête. I tried to ignore the lump in my throat that had taken up permanent residence. “I think I get it. I won’t make this more difficult than it has to be, Thierry. I’ll make sure my suitcase is packed and I’ll be ready to leave for the airport first thing tomorrow morning.”

His expression was haunted. “You ask a lot from me, Sarah.”

I raised my chin. “Damn right I do.”

“I think you believe that this is simple for me. That
saying good-bye to you is not something that I hate having to do.”

“And yet, here we are. I mean, I don’t blame you for this. Not entirely. I know I’m a magnet for trouble, I know I’m hard to control, and sometimes I do things that are risky—to say the least. Quite frankly, I’m not totally sure why you asked me to marry you in the first place.”

“You still don’t know?” He let out a sharp laugh, which startled me. “To put it ineloquently, Sarah, you make mehappy. You make me want to live for another six centuries, provided that you’re by my side. I want nothing more than that—not since nearly the first moment we met.”

The heavy elephant lounging on my heart since he’d said I had to go back home shifted its big butt a little. This was what I needed to hear, what I’d been so thirsty for.

But then I frowned. “Wait a minute.
Nearly
the first moment we met?”

His lips quirked. “I’ll admit it did take me a few days to recognize your particular…charms.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Ditto.”

He stared down at the ring he now held between his thumb and index finger. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”

“I don’t know. Ask me and I’ll tell you.”

That earned me a wry look. “You’re not making this easy for me.”

I shook my head. “Not a chance.”

His expression grew tense again. “I didn’t want you to go back home without me. But I thought it was the right decision. I wanted you to be safe, even if I went
about it the wrong way. You believe me to be so worldly, but when it comes to matters like this, I find myself at a severe disadvantage.”

I waited, not wanting to say anything to interrupt him. I just focused on trying to keep breathing.

His jaw tightened and his forehead furrowed. He was still fighting some sort of tug-of-war inside of himself. Maybe it was a devil-on-one-shoulder, angel-on-the-other situation. I let him battle it out without comment. I’d already had my say.

Finally, his gaze met mine and held. “Marry me, Sarah. Be with me always.”

A smile slowly crept onto my face and with it came deep relief and such happiness I didn’t think I could contain it. I held out my hand to him. “Yes, Thierry, I’ll marry you.”

He mirrored my smile, so wide that I could see his fangs. He was about to slide the ring back on my finger where it belonged, when he stopped and gave me a look that could only be described as mischievous. “Before I make this official, I have one condition of my own.”

I blinked. “And what’s that?”

He told me. It took only a minute for me to agree.

He’d met all of my demands; the least I could do was meet one of his.

S
ince I was a kid, I’d always dreamed of a huge wedding, one where I wore a big, princess ball gown and there was a five-course meal, and I had a half dozen attendants. Since getting engaged, I’d been worried that I wouldn’t be able to get all my friends and family together in one place for a wedding. I now knew that was impossible.

And I didn’t really care.

I didn’t need the huge guest list, the ridiculously expensive gown, the string quartet, the trained doves (because there had to be doves).

Now I knew that was all window dressing to what I really wanted.

My conditions were met—I would travel with Thierry as he began his job as consultant for the Ring. While he hadn’t officially confirmed it, I knew the only reason he’d taken the job or threatened Bernard’s life was because they’d threatened mine. But what better way for him to keep an eye on me than if I was by his side?

I could have moved to Vancouver and started a new life like Amy suggested. But I didn’t want that. I already had exactly what I wanted. And the best part? I now knew without a doubt that he wanted me, too.

Thierry’s condition was this: If I wanted to marry him, then I needed to put my money where my mouth was. Now. Did I really want to be committed to a six-centuries-old master vampire with a shady new job and an even shadier past? Did I trust him enough to give him my hand in marriage, binding us together from this day forward?

The answer was an unequivocal Y-E-S.

So here we were. In a Las Vegas wedding chapel called the Love Shack.

I wore a sparkly off-white shift dress and gold pumps I’d bought only this morning. Thierry wore—
shocker
—a black Hugo Boss suit.

No family or old friends in attendance. Instead, we had new friends: Charles and Victoria.

I’d been happy to hear that she wouldn’t have to do any more pageants or adopt a life of crime to make a living. On the conference call last night, Thierry had been authorized to hire her on as a noncontracted undercover “child” agent for the Ring for occasional missions. Since she’d wanted to try acting, she was thrilled for the opportunity to stretch her theatrical legs in a potentially beneficial way. And also make a very generous paycheck.

Charles was our official witness and Victoria was our flower girl—and unofficial maid of honor. She wore her prettiest and frilliest pink dress for the occasion. It did smell a little bit like cigarette smoke, but I was willing to overlook that.

“Do you, Sarah, take Thierry as your hunka-hunka-burning-love husband from this day forward until death do you part?”

Thierry grimaced a little at that. I watched him with
amusement. This had been his idea, after all. And I had to admit,
I
was the one who’d insisted on the “Love Me Tender” ceremony.

I looked from the Elvis impersonator’s gold lamé suit and long black sideburns to Thierry. He stood next to me, holding my hands, and he studied me as if he still expected me to change my mind and go running for the hills at any given moment.

“I do,” I said firmly.

“And do you, Thierry, take Sarah as your jailhouse-rockin’ wife, from this day forward until death do you part?”

“I do,” he said firmly, holding my gaze.

“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May you never be lonesome tonight or move into a heartbreak hotel again. Thierry, it’s now or never. You may kiss your beautiful bride.”

Instead of cringing again at our spectacularly cheesy (and completely awesome) ceremony, Thierry focused all his attention on me. I grinned at him as if shocked that this had actually happened without the world exploding right in the middle of it.

“We’re married,” I told him.

“We are. I love you, Sarah.”

My heart swelled. “I love you, too.”

He cupped my face between his hands and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him, almost losing my hold on my small bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath—which was a thirty-dollar wedding package add-on. We’d kissed plenty of times over the months since we first met, but this one felt different. It was the first kiss in the next chapter of our lives.

Despite any questions I had, secrets he had, or promises I’d made to curious parties, Thierry had just made me the happiest woman on earth. And I was going to try my very best to return the favor.

I honestly had no idea whatsoever what tomorrow might bring—or the day, week, year, decade, or even century after that. But, really, why spend time worrying about the future when the present was this bloody fabulous?

C
rystal balls have a lot in common with eyeballs. They both have the power to reveal hidden truths. That is, if you’re brave enough to look deeply.

This occurred to me as I sat in a quaint fortunetelling café called the Mystic Maison, across the table from two sets of eyes and one crystal ball.

The first pair of eyes was clear blue and smiling, set into the pleasant face of a woman in her late fifties. She wore the expected outfit of a fortune-teller—colorful blue and green robes embroidered with gold stars and moons, as well as a jade green turban that mostly encased her jet black hair. With a glance into her eyes, I could tell that she was both friendly and earnest.

She believed she could tell my future while I waited for my coffee order. Whether she really could was currently up for debate.

“You’re new in town,” the woman, who’d already introduced herself as Madame LaPorte, said as she gazed into the crystal ball in the middle of the small round table, covered by a red tablecloth. The conversations of others in the busy café buzzed all around, and coffee, tea, and freshly baked cinnamon pastries pleasantly scented the air.

“Just arrived,” I confirmed.

“And you’re here…not purely for a vacation, but for business.”

“That’s right.”

A small frown creased the skin between her thin, penciled-in brows. “However, you do hope this trip will serve two purposes—business
and
pleasure. This is also your honeymoon. Am I right?”

I sent a sidelong glance toward the other pair of eyes watching this reading with interest. These eyes were the gray of a winter sky. At first glance, they were cold. At second glance, colder.

At third glance…I didn’t think they were cold at all.

To say I was fond of these particular wintry eyes would be an understatement.

“A resort in Hawaii would have been our first choice,” Thierry said, giving me a wry look. “But a hotel room in Salem will suffice.”

“Palm trees and hula dancers,” I said with a shrug. “Who needs ’em?”

Only a day and a half after we’d gotten married in Las Vegas in a whirlwind ceremony that involved an Elvis impersonator and some really cheesy but fabulous vows, Thierry had been notified of his next assignment. That call put us on a flight from Vegas to Boston. From there, we rented a car that brought us the rest of the way to Salem—and
bam
. Here we were.

No rest for the wicked. And, really, with so many airplanes in my future now that I’d happily committed myself body and soul to being both Thierry’s wife and his assistant in his job as a consultant for the Ring—the official vampire council—I was going to have to figure out a way to get over my fear of flying.

Since we were currently in Salem, maybe I’d learn how to ride a broomstick.

Madame LaPorte wasn’t a witch, nor did I think she had any clear vision of the future, crystal balls or otherwise. So how did she know this about us?

Easy enough to figure out. I’d noticed Thierry fiddling with his plain gold wedding band—which he’d insisted on wearing even though he never wore any other jewelry. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Master vampires…well, they were very much the same thing. That he was willing to try to adjust to anything outside of his comfort zone to make his fledgling vampire wife happy made me…very happy.

Giddy
might be a better word for it, actually.

But the fiddling was a definite tell that Madame LaPorte had picked up on. Newlyweds, table for two.

She gazed deep into the crystal ball. “I see wonderful things for your future. Every day you spend together will be filled with adventure and romance.”

I tried not to smile too widely at that. “Good to know.”

Thierry gave me another glance as I slid my hand over his. “Enjoying your complimentary fortune so far, Sarah?”

I nodded. “Any fortune that isn’t one of doom and gloom is much appreciated.”

Madame LaPorte raised her eyebrows. “I don’t give bad fortunes. Who wants unhappy news—especially at such an exciting time of your life with your young and handsome husband?

Handsome, most definitely—Thierry was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and those piercing gray eyes that more often than not took my breath completely
away when he looked at me. But young? It was a good sign that this fortune-teller wasn’t quite as universally insightful as she would have liked us to believe. Thierry might physically look as though he was only in his mid-thirties, but tack on another six centuries and you’d be in the right ballpark. This particular ballpark had been around since medieval times—and I’m not talking about the theme restaurant with jousting actors and wenches delivering ale and turkey drumsticks.

At twenty-eight, I was practically an amoeba when it came to life and experience compared to Thierry. But, as they say, opposites attract. There weren’t too many couples—fanged or otherwise—more opposite than the two of us.

I was about to reply to Madame LaPorte when I felt something strange—a sensation of cold fingers trailing down my spine. I tightened my grip on Thierry’s hand and turned slowly in my chair to glance over my shoulder across the café.

Someone was watching me from the archway leading into the gift shop area. A man with dark hair and black eyes. His attention was focused on me like a laser beam. His gaze was cold, hard, and endlessly unpleasant.

“Who’s that guy?” I whispered, turning back around.

“Who do you mean?” Madame LaPorte asked.

“The tall, pale man standing over there with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. He’s giving me the creeps.”

She frowned, glancing over in the direction I nodded. “There’s no one there.”

I turned back around slowly, surprised that she was right. “Where did he go?”

“There was no one there to begin with,” Thierry said, his brow furrowed. He didn’t say it like he doubted I saw anything. More that he was confused by why he
hadn’t
.

“Hmm. Could be you caught a glimpse of the Maison’s ghost,” Madame LaPorte said lightly. “Lucky you. He doesn’t make an appearance for just anyone.”

My gaze shot to hers. “There are ghosts here? Are you serious?”