Infectus

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Epilogue

I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, With all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love; Endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

—Ephesians 4:1-4

Prologue

A beautiful light that shone from the tower. Turning around and around, shining through the England fog like a tiny, lambent star in the blackness. The waves crashed against the rock border that protected the little lighthouse. The ridge sloped down into a tiny beach near the back of the house, and it faded into the fog. The stars and moon were invisible that evening.

The old woman rocked silently in her parlor chair, floors below the light. Her eyes were shut, listening to the subtle squeaking of her chair. Her cat sat on her lap, purring. She stroked it over and over. She loved the cat—she’d named it Marble, because of the fascinating coloration of its beautiful coat.

A door that unlocked made her open her wrinkled eyes. It was the old man; the one whom she spent her life with by the sea. He had been up working with her dearest light in the tower, keeping the lamp lit to warn sailors on their way. It was their pride and joy.

I see a man on the beach, he uttered through his aged lips.

The old woman stood. You see someone? Can you recognize him?

He shook his head. I don’t know him at all.

Both of them left the warmth of the house and walked out into the windy, dark night, illuminated only by the shining of the light in the tower. The stranger was near to them, now, and the old woman could see him well as he approached.

He was a hunched, rather old man that was barely visible even through the tower light. His features were sunken in his face, and white hair curled out in a frizzy mass under a captain’s hat that sat firmly atop his head.

I say, sir, are you lost? the old man asked as the stranger came closer.

The stranger only nodded, slowly, his eyes closed.

Come inside, dear, the old woman said, putting her arm around the man. I can make you something hot to drink, and you can rest here for the night if you choose.

Many thanks, the stranger bellowed.

He followed the old couple into the lighthouse, and into their creaky kitchen. It was dim in there; a candle flickered, the only glow given. Their shadows were stretched against the floorboards as they shuffled around.

The old woman took a teacup from the cupboard. Do you drink tea?

Yes, the stranger replied, standing tall behind her.

Oh, Mortimer, feed the kitty, please? the lady asked of her husband.

He nodded and shakily left the kitchen.

The old woman bent over her fire to retrieve the boiling pot of water. What is your name, sir? she asked softly.

Dubré. Salvatore Dubré. His words were cold and slurred.

She gently grasped the handle of the pot with a towel. That’s nice, that’s nice, she replied. Her little arm trembled slightly as she held up the boiling water out of the fire.

She turned to the stranger to see him standing directly over her, glaring.

She dropped the pot with a gasp. Boiling, sizzling water spilled everywhere.

She screamed when she saw his eyes. "Demon! she shrieked, her mouth gaping. Save me, Lord—save me, Lord—"

The strangers grin twisted up his sagging face. He lifted his palm in a swift, unassuming motion, not laying a finger on her. Yet the old woman fell backward into the fire. Horrible screaming tore through the air as she tried to escape the flames that were engulfing her.

The old man ran in. Just as his mouth opened, knives shot through the air at him, burrowing into his forehead—his eye—his shoulder—his throat—his chest. His body collapsed to the floor. A grotesque, bloody heap.

The old woman was still alive.

The stranger, with only a gesture of his finger, lifted her from the fire to the floorboards next to her husband. Her body had melted like candle wax; her skin stuck to the floorboards. She could no longer scream. Her throat was burned through. She looked on her husband with terror.

The stranger smiled. He turned to see a small cat sitting in the corner, watching with bright green eyes, its head cocked. He laughed at the creature, patted it gently on the head, picked it up, and disappeared before her eyes.

Taking a heavy, smoke-filled breath—her last—she managed to look upon the hideous eyes of the stranger once more as he and the world faded before her forever.

Hideous, white eyes—

Chapter 1

Taverin was finally home.

She opened the curtains to the beautiful French mansion, smiling as she felt the warmth of the sun’s rays shine on her face. She opened the window and inhaled the cool, winter air. The chill that filled her lungs felt wondrous. Especially since she had been feeling so sick of late.

It was 1844—a new year. And she planned to make the most of it. William, the only boy she’d ever loved, proposed to her not a day ago. As she glanced down at the beautiful silver ring on her left hand, she couldn’t help but giggle. The fact that she was only sixteen marrying a near twenty-one-year-old really didn’t matter; she had no pompous family to mind about her age. Rein was her sister, the only person whose opinion meant anything. Rein would tell her to follow her heart. She hadn’t even told Rein of her engagement yet—she was on her honeymoon.

Wiping her hands on a napkin, Taverin turned from the parlor and headed back into the dining room, trying to shake the nagging sickness that had plagued her stomach for over a month. Regardless, she was more than happy—she was back in Cherbourg, the beautiful town she’d grown up in. She had nearly forgotten the terror she’d been through within the past year. She was relieved to be living a normal life, with normal people. She wanted to forget about vampires as well as she could…though that endeavor was impossible. She still had to tell William someday. Somehow.

A good two months had gone by since she had moved in with Catherine Treau, her best friend and William’s older sister. Although during the Napoleonic battles Cherbourg was heavily damaged, France had in the last thirty years build that town up to be one of the prettiest places in all the country. It was strange for her to think about how her only family was from France’s rival country, England, and proud of it, yet she was the opposite: the French-raised daughter of an Englishman and a French gypsy. But she embraced that; she couldn’t hate England no matter how patriotic she was. England saved her in the sense that her father took her there and saved her from life on the streets of France—the life she would’ve had after her horrid mother died…

Taverin, that feels so much better! Marques, William’s older brother, proclaimed from the dining room table. Feel the wind? Air circulation, so much better…

They were in the middle of having dinner together: she and the four Treau siblings who lived together in the massive estate left to them by their late parents. William, Catherine, Marques, and their younger sister Margarete occupied the house, which made for a lively home.

Taverin took a seat next to William, who was intently cutting his roast. His auburn hair was tied back very neatly, his hazel eyes perfectly delighted at her return beside him.

Only for a short while, though, Marqu, Taverin said. "After all, no matter how stuffy it is in here, it is still winter, therefore cold."

And as ill as she’s been feeling, I doubt if too much is good for her, Will said as he took a bite off his fork. Are you all right, pet?

She nodded with a smile. She adored that name he had for her. She adored him.

So have you told your sister about your engagement, yet, Taverin? Margarete, the more inquisitive of the two sisters, asked.

I haven’t spoken with her yet, but I will as soon as I can.

Where is she again? questioned Catherine. Just gone for her honeymoon?

Taverin nodded, taking her first bite of the delicious roast.

I have yet to meet Rein myself, William said after taking a drink. Or her new husband. But I can only imagine they’re very kind persons, by word of Taverin. Although British.

Indiscreet snickering ensued. William was allowed to joke about England, but Taverin made it clear that joking was to be light. She had to make that clear, with a brother-in-law as patriotic as Traith. A laugh slipped out in thinking about that…

"So…is Rein’s husband blind, Taverin? Marques asked, his dark, slicked-back hair falling out of place as he leaned forward. I mean, I did hear that from a flibbertigibbet."

Marques! William declared. What sport have you in poking fun at dear Cat?

Oh, leave me alone, both of you, brutish brothers. Catherine smiled through a sip of her wine. I only repeated what I was told.

Well, is the man blind? young Margarete reiterated her brother’s question.

"He was."

Marques chuckled, wiping his mouth of excess food. Where would they go then for their honeymoon if he couldn’t very well see it?

Why would she marry a blind man? Margarete questioned under her breath.

Catherine elbowed her.

"He was blind, Taverin said, but he’s regaining his sight. To everyone’s happiness, especially my sisters, he gained a fraction of it back just during his wedding. He saw her. So romantic, it all was…"

Amazing, Will said, happily chewing on a piece of meat. Lord-willing he gets all his vision returned him. That uncertainty must be a terrible thing to deal with.

He wasn’t supposed to get his sight back at all until somewhere from one to ten years went by, Taverin continued, feeding off their interest. It is definitely a miracle.

My, Margarete spoke in a daze, fork rested on her plate. How do doctor’s know these things? Numbers so precise as to count the years…

Does your sister or her husband have any family? Other than you?

Well, Traith has a sister named Ana, Taverin answered. That’s it.

My.

Only one sibling?

His name is what?

Taverin laughed. "His name is Traith. Not sure where it’s from."

Where did they go for their honeymoon, by the way? Catherine asked.

Oh, a place Rein’s always wanted to visit, Taverin answered, sighing dreamily in thought of her sister. America.

She wondered what, at that moment, Rein was doing as a newlywed…

Chapter 2

So it was your favorite cat, hmm?

She giggled as his finger toyed with a lock of her hair.

Definitely my favorite, he said. I found Sophie when I was…nine, I think? Something like that…a sweet little grey thing. My sister tended to get irascible because she always wanted to play with me, and the cat took up most of my time. She hated Sophie because of that.

"Did you name the cat?"

Yes, I did, he murmured with a chuckle. I always liked the name Sophie for a cat. Don’t know why.

Just for a cat?

He nodded, shuffling beneath the covers. I don’t fancy it much for a person.

She yawned and stretched, his bare body entwined with hers, his breath against her neck. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. She loved that. Loved him.

It had only been a day since she’d gotten married. Married.

One day.

It had to be nearly four o’clock in the morning, but it was hard to tell time with the curtains drawn and the lights out. The blankets were so soft, and the bed was filled with feathers. A small bookshelf was in their hotel room, and a table. But they’d gotten there around six o’clock the previous night, and after slight unpacking, the first thing they did was get into bed. She’d gotten no sleep since then, and neither had he…

She laughed and hugged him. You’re my husband, Traith! she said blissfully. I found my true love and married him only yesterday!

He returned the embrace. I wonder if he knows about this affair you’ve been having.

She gave him a crooked smile, and he laughed. She laid her head against his chest.

His lips caught hers, and she melted. Quite a… he dipped in, "steamy affair, at that…"

She sighed, drawing her finger up and down his chest. So since you’re warmed up…tell me more about your childhood. She completely relaxed her body, curling into him. "Other than Sophie, you haven’t told me anything of your past. I know there were some pleasant memories."

What do you want to know? It wasn’t that exciting. In fact it was very normal.

Honestly…did you ever meet a girl? she asked.

Already suspicious, Rein? She merely smirked; he returned the gesture and continued. No, no girls. There were those who tried, I suppose, but…I found that I didn’t seem to be the type meant for love. No lady seemed to have the right intentions in mind, or at least intentions near to my own. Mostly then it was about dowery and prestige, and because my family had money I was…an asset. I couldn’t find anyone looking for something real; thought for a while that perhaps my expectations were too high. And it was the Baroque era, at any rate, so everything was about appearance. Mine, I suppose, was considered…desirable, in a manner of speaking. Even though I was one of the only men who refused to wear a wig.

Don’t trip over your words, she said, biting her lip with a smile. "You are allowed to mention you’re far from ugly. It isn’t a crime."

No, seriously. I don’t think I had a scar on me. Maybe one or two, from stupid things I’d done as a child. I was more refined than rough, like now. He sighed. "You know, I don’t really want to talk about me anymore."

Do you think I don’t believe you? she grinned. You still are refined. Your self-esteem is terrible and I simply can’t understand why. She snuggled into him, and his hand stroked her cheek. Were you always so quiet?

I think so.

I’m glad I caught you.

He merely smiled. His fingers brushed down her arm underneath the veil of sheet. Stopped me in my tracks and drew my eyes away from books, which is quite hard to do. Enchanting, before you had a single inhuman ability.

She started laughing. Oh, we’re actually here, Traith! she exclaimed with her last burst of energy, flopping to her back. Her voice softened. I knew I would get here eventually.

He was silent. Exhaustion was finally beginning to hit the both of them. It was the first moment all night that they had laid still.

I don’t want this night to end, she finished.

Neither do I.

I love you, she whispered in his ear.

And I you, he answered as he grew still. More than you could imagine, Rein.

He had stopped moving, she could feel. Asleep.

Her eyes were getting heavy, too…

It was so strange to think that not even a year ago she had been on her way here, to the United States. So excited, with Saria. Of course, the trip had taken a little longer than she had expected, and she had lost so much…but the prize she’d picked up on her way gave her a good deal of comfort. Traith Harker…her husband, now…

All slowly went dark, and her thoughts wandered…

Chapter 3

She stretched underneath the blankets and opened her eyes dreamily. It took a second for her to realize where she was; satin drapes, marble tables, and melted candles made up their grand hotel room in New Jersey, not far from Philadelphia or New York. Though she didn’t particularly like cities, the thought of finally being there filled her with bliss. Actually near to the London of the United States, where she was finally able to forget that she was a vampire and simply enjoy being Traith Harker’s new wife.

She tightened her arms around her pillow and watched him—her husband. He was awake, seated at the table, naked from the waist up with battle-honed muscles covering every inch of him. He was so—perfect. She felt she didn’t deserve him. How fortunate she was. And now, he was hers and she was his, officially.

Their marriage. Their wedding. The happiest day of her life. And to top off the beauty of it all, just before the ceremony Traith regained his sight. A small part of it, anyway; his vision was still blurry and dark, but he could at least tell where he was going. What touched her the most about the wedding, more than the bliss she felt at exchanging vows, was how Traith acted afterward. That whole day—the whole rest of the day after the wedding, he wouldn’t stop describing her. Her wedding dress, her hair, her face; he made her feel so beautiful. She must’ve been a haze at best, but that bit of detail meant everything to him. And if only for a day, Traith seemed to forget his torturous past…the murder of his parents that ruled his mind at the slightest mention. He was beginning to accept it, finally. Or perhaps just beginning to swallow it. But still, it was a step in the right direction.

His deep, frustrated sigh brought her back to reality. There was an open book in his hands; he was trying to read. Already, trying to read. It intrigued her how someone like Traith could be such an avid reader, but it did make sense—reading was probably all he had to do on that ship, for a hundred plus years. Learning things, whatever things he could. She was never quite as passionate as he seemed to be about reading, but she did love to write. Poetry, stories, accounts. All of which she kept to herself, really, but she had them…

He noticed she was awake. Morning, he said, slapping the book shut with his thumb and other finger, tossing it on the table.

Morning, she said with a hoarse voice, rubbing her eyes. What are you doing?

Trying to read, but I can’t see the words well enough.

She happened to notice an empty vial thrown beneath his chair, and the sight of the blood-tinged glass amplified the dryness in her throat. For once she didn’t want to feel like a vampire. Just for a fortnight, for their honeymoon, she wanted to forget.

Well, Traith, she breathed, swallowing her bloodlust. Already addled. Your sight isn’t returned yet, that’s a given. You got some back just yesterday, one step at a time, my love.

It’s just that all the pages look like grey blobs, he said, leaning his elbows on the table. "When I saw your face, even the tiniest bit, you seemed so clear to me. I thought my sight was coming back, but instead since yesterday I think it got bloody worse. Maybe it was some freak accident that I saw you yesterday and my sight’ll decline again to blackness for the remainder of ten years. All I know is that I didn’t make that all up, about—"

I know you didn’t, Rein cut him off, sitting up from the bed, holding the covers around her naked body. I must commend you on such a positive outlook.

It was hard to console him. Even though she had the power to do nearly anything she wanted with the mind, whatever was in the poison that hit him had a sort of wall that even she couldn’t break through. She’d tried; she spent hours trying to work through his head, but it was like she was entirely, mentally powerless on him. Ana knew what she could do…

How long have you been up? she asked, trying to get off the subject of his sight.

A while. He held his eyes and swore softly to himself.

What?

The way they hurt is just strange. He partially smiled. I’ve never had pain last so damn long, that’s all. I hate this sulking, I don’t mean it.

I’d rather you vent than keep it to yourself, she said softly to him, leaving the bedside. I’m glad you tell me.

So you forgive me, then, he replied with his ever sarcastic tone. "This ordeal is just most unpleasant."

So why have you been up awhile? She paused. Had another nightmare, didn’t you?

Yes, he said curtly.

She felt a little helpless. He was just starting to feel happy, but with nightmare reminders and sight on his mind again, she could already feel his graveness returning.

He had nightmares near every night. If not about Ana then about his parents, his physical torment, the childhood and adolescence that he longed to have lived unscathed. Most of the time he told her nothing of them. But she could always see it translated in his every morning move.

What about this time? she asked reluctantly.

His voice quivered. Hell.

Her eyes opened further, losing all their sleepiness. Traith…

He shook his head.

She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He’d spoken about the subject only once, ever, to her, and it harbored such terrible memories in him that he kept his description vague. She had lived the murder of his parents. She had seen pieces of his childhood through his sister. She had seen, felt, heard…but she hadn’t known what was happening. Somehow, that span of time before he was bitten, when he was with Helena…it was something Ana never knew about, so neither did she. The only part she saw from Traith himself was the cell and the transformation, and that was only by accident; she had only Ana’s point of view of anything else.

I would like to understand what you mean when you say that.

"Rein, literally hell, he said. True, actual hell."

How? Her voice rasped quietly in shock. How can that happen?

Helena, he whispered. "I couldn’t die, obviously. But—the torture—before hell. She did demented things like slicing, drowning, stretching, sawing, piercing, using rats. Then there was hellfire—" He ceased at once, and his head rose.

She gasped, and tears filled her eyes already at seeing them come so close to filling his. He concealed his emotion well, so when they showed it felt all the more painful.

He knew he’d startled her. I’m sorry, forgive me. I won’t talk about it. I’m done…forgive me. His voice trailed off with that. It’s just so haunting. When I see things, certain things that could be stupid or harmless, I remember. Might have been better without regaining my memory. At least then I only recalled pain. I think because I didn’t have the time to grow out of my past, my memory does so as I sleep.

"It is good that you got your memory back, she murmured, tightening the blankets around her to fight the chill. You can recall the happy moments in your life, and I know there were happy ones. I love you, Traith, and I’m glad you tell me everything. I think it can help you sort yourself out."

A sad smile flickered about his mouth. Rein, please know I don’t mean to be like this, I don’t want to. I’ll try to put them all away, all that history. Just give me a little bit longer, it wasn’t that long ago that I recalled. He winked. Happier, Rein. I’m going to be happier if it kills me.

She chirped a convincingly elegant laugh, and because of it she saw a real smile touch his lips. She adored that smile, so much—that boyish, charming smile he had. It was a rare glimpse that, under any circumstance, could intimately warm her heart.

Well, then, my love, she said, shooing the dark cloud away from their hotel room, such terrible thoughts aside, you must be thankful you have some sight. It’s better than none, even with pain. Imagine if you hadn’t gotten any of it back for the entire ten years, like your sister said.

I don’t want to think about that, either, he breathed. "About that possibility or about my sister. I feel too bad still."

What am I going to do with you, she replied, shaking her head and finally standing up off the bed. She dropped the covers that were concealing her bare body in an attempt to get him thinking on something else—something more pleasant to his memory.

He gave her a curious look, and she could tell that his remaining frustration was repressed. This whole blind nonsense is killing me as a man, too, he said with a soft laugh, trying to hone his eyesight onto her form.

I bet it is, she murmured. You really are a typical male.

It isn’t like I’ve been able to say that, ever, he replied with a glimmering smile.

Rein grabbed her comfy silk robe off the bed post and tied it around her. As she neared the table, she noticed a small bottle of something almost hidden behind Traith’s elbow. She took a seat beside him and reached for it, catching him off guard, and read the label.

He looked startled. Rein, that’s—

"Laudanum? she exclaimed. Traith, you never cease to amaze me…"

He took a breath and laughed, rubbing his forehead. I have it in case I can’t fall asleep. I only use it then, I’m not some addict. Although I hadn’t wanted you to see it.

Secrets already? she asked. She began reading the label. All the men I knew who ever took this were prone to hallucinations and other side effects. Does this actually work on you?

Hardly, but better than not at all. I don’t need it. Trust me, another craving is the last thing I want. The taste that comes off it is so bitter that I nearly vomit before it’s even down. I rarely use it, but for some reason around four this morning it seemed a dependable mithridate.

She slid it back to him across the table, shaking her head. I suppose if it helps…I don’t want you to think you have to hide anything from me.

I know I don’t have to hide anything from you, and I would tell you if I had a problem. Oh! He seemed to have a revelation, and he smiled slyly. I was an alcoholic, Rein.

She cocked her head, her eyes sad. She couldn’t help be smile, though, because she knew it didn’t matter anyway. An alcoholic, Traith? You seem to enjoy addiction.

"No, no, I don’t like addiction—that isn’t true; I just finally remembered something exciting, even if in the manner of exciting meaning startling. Started when I was seventeen and did it until I was…well, twenty-three. After that, a worse craving replaced it."

Were you a Christian man, Traith?

He laughed. "Yes. But I can shamefully say I didn’t act upon it as well as I should’ve."

What did your family think of the whole thing?

They hated it. I wasn’t a raucous drunk. I was never really drunk, except when I was alone. Ana said I was only shaky and delirious. She always covered for me if I wasn’t sober, however she could. It was strange why I started the thing in the first place. He paused, his clouded eyes staring forward. My father was one as well.

Rein couldn’t believe he was telling her what he was telling her. It was the first she learned about his parents. He knew all about her parents and her past, which, if all supernatural tragedies were put aside, was worse than his. But she knew very little of his past…and he had never before cared to reveal it.

What were their names?

He tried to focus on her. He didn’t like the question, she could tell by the sudden weakness in his voice. But he answered nonetheless. David, and Blanche.

She knew she had to leave such miserable subjects; it was supposed to be a happy day. Just as she was going to speak, the the clock rang out and caught her attention.

"Traith, it’s twelve o’clock?"

I let you sleep in. You got no rest last night.

She loved the ornery gleam that sparked in his dulled eyes. Honorable intentions, she replied. I can accept that. Do you know what I find most amazing about you having been born in 1703?

Oh boy, he muttered.

"All the things you’ve lived through. America’s revolting, the war, the inventions…and your parents must have seen even more things that you must’ve heard stories about."

I can’t say that helps my sorry case, he said with a smile. Everyone still played the harpsichord then, and Bach and Vivaldi were in their musical prime by the time I was turned twenty. And I did hear horror stories about the plague—that hit London in 1665—from my grandparents. The bubonic plague. And witch trials weren’t long before that…

She shook her head, laughing softly. It’s an unacceptable truth, that you know these things first hand. She walked to her suitcase and pulled out a dress to wear, smiling to herself. Were you a Tory or a Whig?

He couldn’t help but laugh, however accidentally. You can’t figure that one out? he said through his concluding laughter, his genuine smile lighting up the room. "I always supported the King—or Queen. I was a…a Cavalier if you will. Wasn’t real fond of the Parliament when I was in Oxford."

Oxford? she gasped, hanging the dress over the bed. You went to the University of Oxford? Traith why didn’t you ever tell me that, that’s amazing!

He sighed, standing. It wasn’t quite as prestigious then as now. There wasn’t much variety in 1723, Rein. I went to the closest good college available, and I had the money. It’s a ride from Surrey, but…

Shaking her head, Rein bent down beside the bed and grabbed her corset and chemise, which lay wrinkled on the floor where they were initially dropped. She slid into them. You’re unbelievable, Traith, she cooed, holding the corset around her bare chest, approaching him. Want to tie it?

I would love to if I could see the strings.

All you have to do is pull it tight, she replied. It’s already strung.

All right. But don’t get too dressed up, he said, feeling for the laces and pulling them in at her waist.

She was surprised. Why, don’t you want me to look my best? I need to fit the public’s image of a nobleman’s wife, after all.

Oh, sure, he scoffed, finishing the laces. Sarcasm—

I wasn’t being sarcastic.

He sighed as he rubbed his morning-shadowed chin. If you dressed up too nicely this nobleman would be fighting off men all day. But moreover, I have something planned for you.

Her eyes widened. You planned something?

Have you ever been to a bath house?

She couldn’t help but snicker. Well, no, but aren’t they…public?

"Not all of them. Well at least not this one. I made you an appointment for a sort of…pampering if you will, for as long as you want."

She gasped, smiling. Pampering? Traith, what a way to start the New Year!

He chuckled and she threw her arms around him.

You know, she said, leaning back, this must be the only pampering I get because I need every moment alone we have together spent with you. We might not get this again for a long time. If we sat on a park bench together for the entire two weeks, I’d be happy as a lark. We don’t need to be too busy.

His eyes tried desperately to focus on her; they looked amused. "All right. As informal a honeymoon as this will be, we must look like a disgrace to society."

We’re already a disgrace to society. We had a winter marriage. She threw her arms around his shoulders as he laughed with her and reached up for a kiss. So what is included in this ‘pampering’?

Well, he purred in her neck, bathing in a solitary sauna, which I may join you in—

You’d better.

"And something else he calls a massage…"

Chapter 4

She stepped out of the carriage with as much elegance as she could, but it was hard to remain elegant and contain her excitement at the same time. Letting her dress hit the ground without another thought, Rein took a deep breath and stared ahead at the long, flat building they were to enter. Traith paid the carriage driver and turned to her, smiling at her enthusiasm.

He was being so romantic—a side of him he kept hidden most of the time. She since recognized that Traith viewed romance as a weakness, and if someone knew he had a weakness, he felt vulnerable—which was the feeling he most hated. She didn’t know whether that assumption was something to be angry or proud about.

His hand caught her shoulder, and she wrapped it around her chest for warmth. After all, it was January in New Jersey, and freezing cold.

So this is it, she said, laying her head back on his chest. I’m so excited…

Montclair Bath, he said, squinting up at the elaborate sign. I spoke with the owner prior to our leaving Romania. He’s a very amiable man. Huge—terribly big. His arms stretched wide as she turned to face him. Like eight feet tall or something. For some reason he liked me, I must’ve intrigued him, I don’t know. He’s the first person I’ve met that didn’t question my eye color or teeth. No wariness whatsoever out of him. And I can’t hide my eye color and teeth like you can, like you’re doing now.

Well, your eyes aren’t as apparent as normal because of… She stopped herself and dropped it. You teleported here? From home? When?

Just after the wedding. I was discreet, huh? He looked like an ornery little boy, the way his eyes were fixed on her.

She hoped that he had in mind to join her in this little excursion…and if he doesn’t…

I will, I will, he answered after she whispered her thoughts into his mind. And stay out of there, you, hear me?

She puffed breath from her cheeks and laughed at him.

He held the door, and as she walked through she gave him a long, luscious kiss. His hand touched her cheek and ran a stray bit of hair behind her ear. She pulled away from him to enter the building, and he sighed in a pretend-serious disappointment. Clearing his throat, then, as if with the realization that they both were in a public place, he grew serious and quietly demure.

The first thing Rein could hear