“It takes minutes for vampire news to spread,” he said dryly. “You don’t know what time it is, do you?”
I slowly shook my head.
He pointed to the clock on the nightstand.
We had been up here for two hours.
I gaped at him. How had that much time passed?
His fingers trailed up and down my back. It tickled but also sent tendrils of pleasure and craving through me. It made me feel desired and, to some extent, safe.
Nestled here in our marital bed, no one could harm me.
“You will stay here, with me,” Maxwell said in a tone that broached no argument.
I could only nod. After all, I had asked for his protection, and he had granted it. Of course I would stay here.
“I will have clothes brought to you. You need a coat and… More,” he said, his voice thick, the word husky, and I flushed as his gaze wandered over my body.
My husband was checking me out.
“Ah, um, you said the ball was now our reception,” I said as I scrambled out of the bed. It was soft, to the point that you could sink into it, so luxurious. It was unlike any bed I had ever slept in before.
Would I sleep in it?
Would he?
“Shouldn’t we go back to it?” I asked, trying to right my thoughts.
“Yes, indeed,” he murmured.
He stretched, his body long and lean and muscular. With ease, he left the bed behind, and I found myself gawking as he dressed. As his long, skilled fingers buttoned his shirt from the bottom up, I snapped out of my trance and began to dress.
When I was reaching for my zipper, he was there, zipping it for me. Then, he brought his left hand up across me to hold my right shoulder.
He turned to face me, and he kissed my temple. My eyes closed as I reached up to hold onto his arm. He had so much power within him, and I longed to take some of that power, to make it my own.
I was innocent and vulnerable, but together with him, I could become experienced and strong.
Maybe even powerful in my own right.
“Are you ready, tesoro mio?” he asked.
I wasn't sure what that meant. The other Italian had been easy enough to understand. Beautiful girl. Beautiful wife. You are sweet, or maybe how sweet you are. Mio cara… My dear, I thought, and if I had to guess, tesoro mio meant my treasure or something similar.
He was playing the part of my husband, maybe even rehearsing for downstairs because we must have everyone believe that we were wed, that it was for real.
As we approached the door, it opened for us. A servant was there.
"Wash the sheets," Maxwell instructed, and I glanced over. The bed sheets were wet with our juices and a bit of blood too. Although I had some experience with my fingers, nothing so large or thick as Maxwell's cock had been inside me before.
In fact…
“Where is the bathroom?” I asked Maxwell as we entered the hall.
He walked me there, and I took care of things and then splashed water on my face. No matter what I did with my hair, I looked like I had been thoroughly made love to.
If only it had been making love instead of just sex.
With a sigh, I returned to Maxwell. He escorted me down to the ballroom, and again the vampires cheered us, teasing us about how long our consummation had taken. We danced and kissed, but only after Maxwell sent a few out, most likely to spread the word.
It was only then that a thought occurred to me.
"Maxwell," I murmured in his ear, and he swept me into his arms, dancing, nodding so that I knew I could resume. "Won't Viktor think it suspicious that you are making sure he knows we are wed?"
“Do you think he’ll take it as a challenge?”
I bit my lower lip and nodded.
“He has to know that you are wed, and besides, I am not having my men go out and directly tell him or his men. He will learn about it through the grapevine, but he will learn about it fast.” Maxwell grinned, flashing his fangs. “Vampires are notoriously handsome, stunning, intelligent, wealthy, and, most of all, gossips.”
With nothing else to do, I forced myself to enjoy the reception as best as I could. I ate and drank, and when I was exhausted, which did not take long at all, Maxwell escorted me back to that bed. I fell asleep as soon as he tucked me in, and I did not wake until late in the morning.
Maxwell was not in bed with me.
Worse, I could tell from the indentations of the silk sheets—or rather the lack of indentations—that he had not slept with me.
Life slowly fell into a routine. I ate my meals with Maxwell, and we would go on a tour of the estate. He showed me the many houses he owned. He even had an entire library. It was so much more than just this palace.
We did not sleep together again, even though I wished for that desperate, and my dreams were either tortuous longings filled with us together in bed or equally tortuous dreams about my sister being murdered or even more tortuous memories of happier times with my sister, when I would read to her or sing to her or when we would hunt for berries together.
Things we would never do again.
A week passed, and I thought maybe we had done it. Maybe I could return to work and start to become legitimate. I wouldn’t need to steal anymore, not if I had this massive roof over my head. Maxwell attended to my every need except sexual, and my family was safe.
Or so I thought.
The bedroom door opened with a bang. I had just stood from the bed, intent on getting dressed and ready for the day.
It wasn’t a maid who stood there but Maxwell, and his face…
