The Vampire's Accidental Wife (Nocturne Falls Book 8)By: Kristen Painter
Nocturne Falls, Book Eight
Dedicated to my amazing mom.
Thanks for your support,
your proofreading, and the morning walks.
For the briefest of moments, Julian Ellingham awoke thinking tonight was going to be just like every other night of his life. But then he remembered the woman in the bed beside him, and he smiled.
Tonight was not at all like every other night of his life. Tonight was the start of something very new and very wonderful.
He rolled onto his side and propped his head in his hand.
There she was. The most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on—and in his nearly four hundred years, he’d laid eyes (and other things) on more women than he could count.
Her gorgeous brown skin gleamed against the ivory bedsheets with the glow only a goddess of her magnitude could achieve. Because make no mistake, she was a goddess. A Caribbean goddess, made even more desirable by the fact that she was also a vampiress.
Although her desirability was pretty high already.
He loved the lilt of her voice, the way she cut her eyes at him when he did something she deemed questionable, the curves of her body, her wit and intelligence, and the tiny heart-shaped birthmark on the instep of her left foot. But those things were not to be outdone by the haughty tilt of her head that accompanied any suggestion she thought beneath her, the almost feline grace she possessed that caused men to watch her walk by, the brilliance and speed of her thought processes, and the way she constantly smelled of orange blossoms.
He was sick with love. Besotted. Giddy as a schoolboy. And he’d never been happier. Because not only was the great and glorious Desdemona Valentine in his bed, but as of last night’s wild, but amazing, events, she was also now his wife.
The woman he’d been wooing for these many, many months had finally succumbed to his charms, but the evening’s outcome had been beyond his wildest dreams.
It was pretty incredible what you could accomplish in Vegas at all hours of the night. Granted, it hadn’t been that late when they’d gotten the marriage license, but then they’d also started drinking rather early. Champagne and lots of it, because Desi was in the mood to celebrate, champagne was her favorite and when it came to spoiling her, there were no limits.
Then they’d found themselves in the Little White Chapel. Or the Chapel of Love. Or maybe it had been the Blue Suede Chapel? He couldn’t really remember, but he knew they’d been in a chapel and he knew they’d gotten married, just like he knew they’d kept the party going long after they’d tied the knot.
Desi had imbibed quite a bit more than he had but, right up until the moment she’d passed out in his arms, she’d seemed pretty much in control of her faculties.
After that, he’d carried her back here to her condo in the Skye Towers and they’d crashed. Well, technically, she’d already been crashed. He’d just gotten her out of her dress, tucked her into bed, then tucked himself right in next to her.
The marriage had yet to be consummated, but taking care of her came first. That was what a husband did for his wife. Everything else could wait. Besides, they had centuries ahead of them.
He sighed in happiness.
As much as he wished she’d wake up, he also wanted to let her sleep. She might be just a touch hung over. He wasn’t, but then, he’d had a fast metabolism even as a human, something becoming a vampire had only increased.
He slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and went into the kitchen to see what she had in her fridge. A shelf of steaks, six liters of blood, and a case of good champagne. He laughed. A woman after his own heart, but then, that’s why he’d married her.
He took out a pint of blood and poured himself some breakfast. He wasn’t so fond of it cold, but warming it up would make noise.
For his beloved, he would suffer.
He downed his meal, then decided to pour a goblet for Desi. If she wasn’t awake, he’d just leave it on her nightstand while he took a shower. And if she wasn’t up by the time he got out, he’d wake her. Gently. She had to be up soon anyway. She had a show to do at nine p.m., and getting ready took an hour and a half.
After all these months, he knew her schedule better than he knew his own.