Bound by Flames

He stayed in the bathroom to watch, his aura crackling like it was made of hundreds of Roman candles. If I’d stared at the shower’s glass walls too long, he would’ve melted them. I supposed it was a sign of faith that he hadn’t already. Once I was finished, I dressed in one of the outfits he’d packed for me and then followed him out of the hotel, my mind still reeling.

From the moment we’d met, Vlad’s concern for his people had been the driving force behind everything he’d done. He’d once told me that he believed in God and the final judgment, yet still wouldn’t change his brutal tactics because it was the only way he could ensure the safety of those who belonged to him. I knew he loved me, but to hear him say that he’d sacrifice every one of his people for me didn’t just shock me; it rocked me to my core.

I didn’t feel worthy of that kind of love, especially from a man like Vlad. He was a centuries-old warrior who’d overcome everything that human and vampire life had thrown at him, and those had been some horrible blows. Furthermore, I knew a little about the members of Vlad’s line, and they were heroic people whose feats of bravery made my small accomplishments pale by comparison. Who was I? A ridiculously lucky girl who’d fallen in love with a man miles out of my league, that’s who.

In addition to being awed, Vlad’s declaration also frightened me, for his sake. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, he did love me to that extreme, which meant that Szilagyi’s plan had a greater chance of succeeding.

What if what Szilagyi had done to me did push Vlad into a reckless pursuit of revenge that would eventually get him killed? Who knew how long this war would last, and it had already gotten nastier and more brutal than we had ever imagined. If things got worse, would it push Vlad to the point where he was willing to do anything—even horrible things—to protect me? I couldn’t stand the thought of Vlad losing the best parts of himself over me. He’d been through so much and yet hadn’t turned into the monster that Szilagyi was.

On the heels of my fear, determination filled me. I wouldn’t let that happen. I’d stop him before he crossed the point of being an avenging husband, and turned into something else. If he loved me so much that I could be the cause of his downfall, I could also be the one to prevent it—or bring him back from it.

I was so consumed by this thought that I didn’t ask where we were going until Vlad stopped in front of the iron gates of a cemetery labeled St. Louis Number One. I looked around, seeing ghosts hovering like pale, creepy shadows in and around the many crypts in the cemetery. I shivered. Was it me, or did it feel like the temperature had dropped several degrees since we reached the foreboding-looking cemetery?

“Why are we here?” I asked, also wondering why we were alone. Vlad must have brought his guards with him or he wouldn’t have whispered his bombshell when we were alone in our room.

“To see an acquaintance,” he replied. At my doubtful look, he smiled sardonically. “Her tomb is where Marie Laveau insists on meeting all of her visitors. And they call me a show hound.”

The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then the appearance of a large African-American man on the other side of the gates stopped me in mid-ponder.

“Vlad Tepesh,” he said, inclining his head in a respectful way. “You are expected and may enter. You,” and his gaze barely passed over me, “are not expected and must stay here.”

I stiffened, but Vlad only smiled. “My wife goes where I go, as both our laws affirm.”

Both our laws. From his lack of heartbeat, I already knew that the large man wasn’t human. Vlad’s statement narrowed the possibilities down to one: ghoul. I shifted uneasily. The last ghouls I’d met had tried to eat me, and not in the romantic way.

“A mortal ceremony means nothing,” the ghoul began, but Vlad pulled out a cell phone and tapped the screen before handing it over. By my blood, I heard a replay of his voice say, I declare that you, Leila Dalton Dracul, are my wife . . .

I hadn’t noticed anyone taping the ceremony last night, but someone must’ve. The ghoul’s brows went up as he watched. Then he handed the phone back, giving me his first full look.

“Congratulations, Leila Dracul,” he said formally.

Despite everything that had happened the past several weeks—or perhaps because of it—I couldn’t resist.

“Oh, I prefer Leila Dracula,” I said, grinning as I felt Vlad’s foot trod down on mine.

“You’ll pay for that,” he muttered, then fixed the ghoul with a harder stare. “As I said, my wife comes with me.”

“I will relay this information and return with Majestic’s decision,” the ghoul stated, melting away into the cemetery.

“Why didn’t you tell this Marie person that I was coming with you?” I whispered once I couldn’t see the ghoul anymore.

Vlad glanced down at me. “Many reasons.”

I didn’t know if his vague answer was because he was still pissy about the Dracula quip, or because he didn’t want to elaborate in case the large ghoul returned.

“Is she dangerous?” I said in an even softer tone.

Now the glance he shot me was amused in a way that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

“Remember the Remnants? Cat derived that power from Marie, and she’s not nearly as good at it as the Ghoul Queen is.”

Suddenly, the ghost-filled cemetery seemed as benign as a children’s playground. The real danger was our host, and Vlad had insisted that I come with him to see Marie. It was so opposite of his usual overprotectiveness that I couldn’t believe it. What was he up to? ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">