The Vampire's Mail-Order Bride

“A human killer then?” Mihail asked.

“It’s possible. That’s all I can say.”

Rhapsody, not in the habit of voicing her opinions unless asked, kept her thoughts to herself as the marquis thanked the coroner for his time. Once inside the carriage, however, she was startled when her Master indeed asked for her thoughts on the coroner’s diagnosis.

“It was unexpected, milord,” Rhapsody answered honestly. “I do not think he is incorrect in any way in his diagnosis, but I also know how stringent the kingdom’s procedures are for granting visas to tourists.”

“I was thinking the same thing myself,” Mihail acknowledged grimly. Chalys had embassies all over the world, and in those places their people employed the most advanced technologies to eradicate any threats to the kingdom. In worst case scenario, this meant killing spies and terrorists thinking to come into their land. But in most other days, this simply meant rejecting visa applications of individuals with even the smallest potential to cause the kingdom unnecessary trouble. It was not uncommon, for instance, for a foreigner to have his application rejected merely because he had been given a speeding ticket.

“Another possibility is for a local to be the murderer,” Rhapsody thought out loud, “but does this not seem improbable as well?”

“Extremely so,” the marquis said with a deepening frown. “The people of Asphodel have their own dark sides, I’m sure, but I’d imagine that if a local were to kill someone for reasons outside the usual, it would be more ritualistic, owing to the influences of the other territories…”

In other words, Rhapsody interpreted silently, the children of Asphodel grew up hearing whispers about ghosts and demons, werewolves and vampires, and all things that went bump in the night. Such stories would never be discussed in the light of day and within the drawing rooms of Polite Society, but deep in their hearts, they knew that the unspoken was true.

“Quite the conundrum,” Mihail heard his pet seemingly murmur to herself, and the way her lips pursed afterwards almost had him smiling…until he remembered how she used to occasionally involve herself in investigations of murders and hauntings.

Shit.

For as long as she stayed within school walls she remained safe, and he would have nothing to worry about. But outside it?

“Milady?”

“Yes, milord?”

“Just to be clear,” he warned, “you are not to involve yourself in this investigation in any way, understood?”

“Yes, milord.”

Her unquestioning obedience was refreshing, but at the same time, he couldn’t help thinking it was too good to be true. Where his pet was concerned, things were rarely as simple and straightforward as she made them seem to be.

“Master?”

He jerked in his seat, caught off guard by the sound of her voice making sweet love to those sinful syllables. “What is it?”

“Would you tell me when you wish for us to copulate?”

Chapter Eight

Mihail nearly choked. Had he truly heard his pet correctly? Or perhaps she had another one of those bloody homeworks from Social Graces that required her to make a joke? His gaze narrowed, but her dark eyes remained calm and serious. Eyes that firmly told him no, his pet was not joking at all, and the knowledge just about killed him.

All at once, the carriage that held the both of them felt too cramped, and the cravat around his neck too damn tight. Worst of all, however, was how his cock, now a fucking oversized beast, was about to tear a hole out of his breeches.

The marquis drew a deep breath. “It is like this, milady,” Mihail tried to explain in discomfited fashion. “I am a man, and like any other man, I always want to have sex.” Then again, ‘want’ right now was a vast understatement, and just the memory of his pet saying those words—-

Would you tell me when you wish for us to copulate?

The bulge under his pants grew, and Mihail was about to shift in his seat to ease the pressure when he heard his pet swallow rather audibly. His head lifted, and it was then he saw his pet’s gaze solely concentrated on his crotch.

Mother of Hell.

His beast of a cock swelled even more, and the sight actually had his pet ever so slowly…biting her lip.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

The marquis had just bit out an expletive, and the muscles in Rhapsody’s stomach rippled with awareness at the tone of her Master’s voice. It was there again, she thought. That unnatural thickness she had once found strange and unfamiliar, but after having heard it countless times every time her Master claimed her, she knew what it was now. And the knowledge was making her want to squirm restlessly in her seat.

“What are you thinking right now, milady?”

“Something strange,” Rhapsody admitted.

“Tell me,” the marquis ordered.

“I would just like to know…” Rhapsody paused to carefully think on how to word her question. “Do only men feel that way?”