The Tale Of The Vampire Bride (Vampire Bride 1)

“Allows you?” I arched an eyebrow.

Vlad frowned as his gaze slowly slid toward me. “I still rule over those below me, dear wife, even if I sometimes bow to a another. I learned the rules of politics long ago in the court of King Matayas. You are merely a bride, my wife, hardly more than a servant. ”

I openly glared at him for that. My belligerence burned in my gaze as I lifted my chin. “You are wrong. I am so much more than a mere servant. ”

“Are you now?”

I gave him my most arrogant of smiles. “Oh, yes. ”

Vlad began to chortle with delight. “Really, Glynis, you amuse me so. ”

“You doubt me?”

Vlad's eyes narrowed as he studied me. I tried to look as innocent and wide-eyed as possible. By the smirk on his face, I could see he saw clearly past this façade.

“You are a clever woman, I shall give you that much. ”

“One night, you shall know just how clever I truly am. ”

Vlad reached out and gripped my face tightly in one hand. I could feel his fingers digging into my skin, his long nails drawing blood. “Do not threaten me. ”

I lowered my eyes. “I am not threatening you. I am merely promising you that one night you shall see me rise to my full potential. ”

“You speak in riddles. ” Vlad dismissed me with the flick of his hand.

I turned away from him, my face flushed, and stared into the forest flowing past the window. Vlad may dismiss me now, but one night, he will be at my mercy. He will witness my full power and brutality as I have my vengeance. It will happen. Vlad will know what it feels like to stare into my face and know fear.

The storm broke over us with vicious violence. The carriage groaned in protest, and I was forced to grab hold of the safety straps. The lightning cackling across the sky clearly illuminated the treacherous pass we were traveling over.

Vlad glanced dispassionately out of the window at the massive thunderheads rolling over the valley. “It is a lovely night. ”

I gaped at him then gasped as the carriage swerved sharply around a turn in the road.

“We will make good time no matter what force of nature attempts to delay us,” Vlad declared confidently. “We shall arrive in Bistri?a on time. ”

I glanced at him r

ather sullenly, none too pleased with the weather conditions. The carriage lurched and swayed, but resolutely slogged along the rain soaked pass. I clung tightly to the safety straps and whispered a prayer I was uncertain would reach the ears of God.

The carriage sped into the stormy night and down the mountain into the valley below. As we passed through the tiny village of Rosu-the same village my family had tried in vain to find safety in that fateful day nearly a year before-I peered out the window. I felt tears, warm and passionate threatening to spill down my cheeks. We had been so close, so very, very close.

The quaint buildings emerged from the gloom into the light of the carriage lanterns for a brief moment before being swallowed up into the night. Not a soul was to be seen. Only the village inn was illuminated from within. As the carriage roared past, I pressed my nose against the glass of the carriage window in an attempt to see inside. The inn shutters were drawn beneath wreaths of garlic and only slivers of firelight escaped through the cracks of wood.

The carriage rolled on and was devoured by the darkness of the night. I sat back in my seat, a single tear traveling down my flushed cheek.

Vlad cast a searing glance in my direction, and I lowered my eyes.

“You should not mourn after all this time. You are more than you were. You are beyond anything your parents could have ever imagined for you,” he said.

Could he possibly expect me to be grateful for my fate?

“I cannot help but mourn my family. They were my life,” I retorted. “Do you not mourn your mortal family?

“They served their purpose,” Vlad responded.

I opened my mouth to protest, but realized quickly the futility of it. He cannot possibly understand my emotions. I do not believe he has ever experienced them. His passions burn fierce, but are tinged with violence and anger. My own passions are stirred by love.

Our journey, though long in hours, seemed quickly finished. I found myself deep in thought, dwelling in the comfort of memories. How easily I lost myself in the beauty of the past. I daydreamed of tea parties, balls, and shopping expeditions. I relished the memories of time spent with my siblings and my parents. I fondly dwelt on my friends and the beauty of England.