I had a life to spend with Malcom and it did not include listening to the bitching of immortals. “No.”
And all playfulness was lost in that instant, a demon spreading proverbial wings, that had they existed would span the room in pure flame. Towering over me as I sat his throne, to correct one who dared disagree. It didn’t affect me as it would have a year prior. Instead it drew me to my feet to face this thing. This true immortal monster.
“I don’t want to be queen.”
“At no time did I ask you. Consider that, granddaughter.” He pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, reverent in the way he touched my face. “I never ask. Remember that should we banter as the eons pass.”
“You promised me the Seine…” And with that latent conversation I should not have held so close to my heart, I’d thought I’d been offered freedom.
“The Seine you shall have, and your husband I shall make free, if…” He, the most powerful vampire that might exist rolled up his sleeve to show me a wrist marked with black veins. “If you drink all your belly can hold.”
Just because I was tired of being quashed, because I felt like being a dick and was bored of politics, games, and a life I had no control over, I took my grandfather’s wrist. But only to pull him closer so I might go for the throat. Suit jacket pulled aside, I sank in my fangs so the wool might remain unblemished. The same could not be said for the crisp, white undershirt he wore like a Fortune 500 executive. It would be stained. Others would see that someone had fed from Vladislov as if he were food and not ambrosia.
I’d expected my brains to be dashed against the wall for such gall. I’d anticipated pain. I’d known better!
But he was far more clever than I. One mouthful and I saw eternity. A single gulp and I was forever changed. Horrified. Blessed. Unworthy. Pure.
As I drank, a God whispered in my ear, “You don’t have to live your life without love. Have your Pict. Take him from me. But you can only keep him if you take this throne. Otherwise, I’ll exercise my right to send him where you’ll never find him no matter how long you search.”
I couldn’t imagine surviving a single night without Malcom. So I took the ugly deal, already feeling the building shake around me from my growing temper.
And then Malcom was there, hand to my shoulder, sweet words at my ear. Foundations stopped their rumbling. My heart beat again… full of ichor and swampy darkness that left my eyes an even brighter crimson.
Drawing my teeth from the throat of an eternal, terrible thing, I buried my face in the shirt of my husband.
And married him that night beside the River Seine.
The gown fit to perfection.
The veil made me feel new.
Our bloodthirsty kiss after vows spun by some random priest sent the terrified mortal running back to his church.
Few were invited, yet many arrived. With little notice, the new Queen of the Americas’ wedding became an event for those with rank enough to dare show their face. But there was one there who troubled me. A woman, overwhelmed in appearance, who clung to my grandfather like a tick.
She had dark hair. Blue eyes an exceedingly familiar shade that had once been mine. And stared at me with a mix of awe and horror.
She refused the passed goblets of the finest vintage of human blood. And my grandfather cooed over her, her awkwardness, her impropriety. Her total lack of manners.
My dress was lace, it was white. But my feelings toward that creature were black.
Though I was given no time to explore them. One moment we were before a crowd of undead playing at ceremony, the next I was with my husband in a room so laden with rose petals it was cliché.
Cliché and adorable.
“Tell me you love me.” There would be no absolution should I answer incorrectly.
God, how I adored when he commanded me so. “I love you, Maelchon of the Pict.”
“You might be queen, but know that I am your king.”
He was, so much so that just to hear him speak in that tone had my pussy dripping with need. “I have no king, no husband as yet. Not until you give me what you’ve denied my body for so long.”
And I was speared with such recklessness, that it broke our bed on a single thrust. In that moment, I think I died.
He fucked me raw, over days and nights in a windowless room. Took more than I might give until he filled me with child.
And I came so hard, I swore allegiance to my slave. Gave him my very soul. Felt each thrust of his cock so deeply that I swear it changed my spirit into something new.