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Blu spooned in a load of sugary sweetness. Milk trickled down her chin and she swiped it off with the back of her hand.
This time she sensed his arrival before the kitchen door swung inside.
“Morning, darling,” she offered coquettishly.
Blu admonished her inner flirt. She’d come so close to kissing him last night. If he hadn’t smelled like blood, she would have.
Good save. Way to stay in control.
Mostly. The dude didn’t have to know what had gone on behind closed doors.
Dressed impeccably, as usual, Creed wore another Armani suit, unbuttoned to reveal a slice of shirt that matched the whites of his eyes. The shirt, too, was unbuttoned, exposing a patch of pale flesh. Diamond cuff links advertised his wealth.
Blu had no idea how rich the man was, but much richer than her family was, she felt sure. The pack compound might be larger, but this mansion had all the luxury goods. Marble floors, gold faucets, high-thread-count sheets and plasma TVs.
A girl should take advantage of her new bank account. She was his wife, after all. And didn’t wives have access to all of their husband’s cash?
“Sleep well last night?” he asked.
“Blissful,” she answered, then caught his knowing smirk.
What was that about?
Morning paper in hand, Creed eyed the massive bowl of cereal. “Why don’t you pour the milk in the box and eat it that way?”
“Oh, ha-ha. The vampire made a funny.”
He sat before the table, across from her, and smoothed the paper neatly before him. “You eat a lot.”
“Worried I’m going to get fat on you?”
“I suspect you run it off. How far do you run every day?”
“I’m guessing I’m getting about ten miles doing your estate five times in a circle.”
“I could get you a treadmill.”
“Oh, right. Why don’t you get me a leash, too?” She chomped a huge bite, milk trailing down her chin again. “And while you’re at it, a special room with all my chew toys and a doggie bed.”
“I didn’t mean to offend, Blu. Though you seem to take offense at the drop of a hat,” he muttered.
Blu sneered mockingly.
He looked up from the paper and zoomed in on her chin. He made a brushing gesture over his own chin.
Blu tried to lick away the dribble of milk but in the process sprayed out a pink kernel of cereal. It rolled across the paper and landed near Creed’s finger.
The vampire stared at the cereal and the wet trail drawn across his immaculate paper. Blu could sense his anger; it smelled acrid. Bet the man had never had his life upset. Bet he called all the shots. Tribe leaders were like that, all in control and in charge. Or so she imagined.
On the other hand, the leaders she was accustomed to liked upset, chaos and mayhem. Hmm…well, if he was of that nature, the guy hid it well.
He flicked the cereal piece and it pinged the bowl and soared onto the floor.
“No points for you,” Blu said. “Want to go for a goal?” She displayed a pink puff between her fingers.
That got a smile from him. Pleased with her attempt to crack his hard armor, Blu popped the cereal into her mouth.
“So what do you do for fun, Creed? If we’re going to do this marriage thing right we have to do things. Like go out dancing or clubbing.”
“I abhor the raucous scene and find the stuff that qualifies for music nowadays considerably lacking.”
“Figured as much. I suppose a game of chess at the local fencing club is more your speed?”
“How about sailing?”
“Seriously?”
“No. I’m not keen on open water.”
“Nor am I. But you had me for a second there. One point for the vampire. So what have you done, in all your centuries, to have fun?”
He folded the paper and set it aside. The white shirt enhanced his European bone structure. He was not overtly handsome, but every time Blu looked at him she saw something new to wonder over.
Today it was his chin, darkened with fine stubble. The slightest cleft drew her eye. The indentation was as wide as her smallest finger, a place a girl could dip her tongue for a taste.
If the girl wanted a taste. Which she didn’t. Not at all.
“Fun?” He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. Then, he leaned forward, moving himself into her space. Was that enthusiasm in his expression? “In the fourteenth century I used to steal armor from the opposing troops then set their barracks on fire.”
“And that was fun?”
“It was. At the end of the sixteenth century was the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre. Killed a good number of Huguenots in that.” He settled back and eyed her narrowly. “You feel a bit like a Huguenot after that charade of a wedding ceremony?”
“I’m not following.”
“The Catholics and the Huguenots—or Protestants, if you prefer—came together for the marriage of Henri of Navarre to Marie de Médicis. Two opposing forces wed in hopes of uniting the religions. Much like we were wed.”
“Right. But you said it resulted in massacre?”
“Yes.” Creed tapped the paper absently. “Catherine de Médicis, along with her son King Charles IX, ordered the Huguenots slaughtered.”
“You think that’s what will come of our marriage? A slaughter between the nations?”
“I hope not, Blu.” He looked aside, then dismissing the dread topic, offered gaily, “I’ve had plenty of fun. In the eighteenth century there were the opera and salons. Salacious gossip was bantered about. Lives and destinies were created, changed and destroyed with a mere word or an exquisitely biting twist of phrase.”
“I’ve always had a passion for the eighteenth century. Paris. I like the big poufy dresses and the sexy frock coats the men used to wear. Man, do I love a fop!”
“Really?” His eyes softened and he spread his fingers on the table, not far from the milk trail. “That was a comfort time for me. I used to wear damask and velvet frock coats. Alençon lace and diamonds at my wrists and jabot. Nothing but the finest to attract the ladies.”
“I bet you attracted them far and wide.”
“I shouldn’t say so, but…well, yes. This fop had his choice of women.”
“You’re not so foppish now.”
“I’ve worn many costumes over the centuries. I find my current situation the most comfortable, though I often long for the medieval times when battles were fierce and bloody and wenches were, well…submissive.”
“You men and your attraction to a submissive woman. Ugh. So much testosterone.” She stabbed her spoon into the cereal. “Were you ever in love, Creed?”
“Never.”
“Come on. Not even a little bit? You’ve had, what, nine centuries to fall in love?”
“As you have said, love isn’t real. It’s only for losers of the game. I prefer lust and instant gratification.”
She could so get behind the instant—and self—gratification.
“Sex, too?” she prompted.
“Lots of it. With the most beautiful women.”
“Did you bite them all?”
“Not always.”
“Huh. So vampires can have sex without biting?”
“We can control those urges, yes. Did you expect we were nothing but lust-crazed blood-hungry creatures?”
“No.” She sat back, her appetite fulfilled after half a box of cereal. “Yes. Maybe. I’ve not spent time with vampires. I can only go by what I’ve been taught. Living with the pack, you can imagine the talk I overhear about longtooths.”
“I hope to change your mind. And to remove that horrible slang term from your vocabulary.”
Longtooth? Yeah, it was horrible. But so was a vampire calling her breed dogs.
“Fair enough. And maybe I can change your mind about werewolves.”
“You already have, Blu.”
“One point for the werewolf!” She lifted the bowl and tilted it back, swallowing the pink milk. “I love cereal.”
“I noticed.”
“I think I’ll go for some Count Chocula next time, what do you think?” She waggled her brows at him.
“If it gives you a twisted thrill, do as you must. You’ve—” He brushed his chin again.
Blu slurped her tongue out to lick the sweetness. “Love me or leave me, Creed, this is how I am. Messy and colorful.”
“And turned up to eleven.”
“You know it.”
When he nodded, as if to grudgingly accept her, she decided that was better than she’d expected of him. At least he wasn’t telling her what to do. And that gave him more points than the scoreboard could handle.
“So about those diamonds you used to flash for the ladies,” she said. “Betcha they cost you a pretty penny. You think you could front your wife some cash to go shopping? What’s yours is mine, yeah?”
“I don’t see a problem with that. I’ll call my accountant and arrange for a credit card in your name.”
Pleased with the snag, Blu wiggled appreciatively on the chair. “That was easy. I promise I won’t go overboard. I mean, I’m not into diamonds. The choker I wore at the wedding was rhinestone. Good enough for me. But I do like shoes.”
“Do as you wish with it. Buy an entire rainbow of wigs, if you must.”
She pumped her fist triumphantly. “Score.”
“Back to your idea for us to do something together. What do you say to a night on the town?” he proposed. “A fine restaurant and then a walk in the park?”
“Sounds far too romantic for this old married couple.”
“Sounds like the perfect means to get to know one another better. We should learn our lines for those who wish to observe our progress. Shall we say seven?”
“I suppose it’s the closest I’ll get you to letting your hair down and living it up. Should I dress up?”
“I did say a fine restaurant. Which may mean not quite so colorful.”
“You don’t like orange?” she said of her latest wig selection.
“It’s not one of your better colors.”
She pouted.
“I prefer the violet.” His smile was so charming that Blu was inclined to believe him.
Chapter Five
HALFWAY THROUGH HER JOG around the estate, Blu paused at the fence and shoved aside the overgrown hornbeam vines. She’d not shifted to wolf form this afternoon—her usual running shape—because she needed to do something.
Her wolf could only stay cooped up for so long. She needed the wide-open fields beyond Creed’s estate. As well, the wolf was drooling for a lope through the nearby forest. And something might come up that would require she leave the estate on more than two feet.
By observing the crews of wolves and vamps camped out front, she’d learned they took breaks on alternate shifts. Around four in the afternoon, both factions were trading shifts, which left the estate unwatched for about twenty minutes.
She’d always wondered what it would be like to be a celebrity for twenty-four hours, having the press drooling over every tidbit of her life. Now she’d changed her mind. This was plain ridiculous. Who cared what she was doing? And could they actually get shots of her with those cameras?
She didn’t need to avoid the snoops; she just preferred doing this out of their interest. They couldn’t sight her at the back of the property. She hoped.
Pushing aside the wide glossy leaves, she grabbed the cool iron fencing. A weird vibration hummed through her fingers and at her wrist. Not like electricity, but almost like the vibrations Blu felt when Bree used sidhe magic.
Something mechanical clicked.
