No, the girl in the mirror didn't look like she'd suffered from loneliness, isolation, or an influx of images from the worst deeds people inflicted upon each other. She looked happy. One might even dare to use the word blessed. Was it any wonder I had a hard time reconciling that she was me?

Gretchen appeared in the reflection. "Don't even think about crying during your vows. It'll ruin your makeup."

My sister's comment was a dash of reality in these unreal circumstances, but that was fine. She was here, dressed in a strapless amethyst satin gown that showed off curves I needed creative draping to duplicate. Her shoulder-length black hair was up, adding an air of sophistication, and her dark eye makeup made her appear older than her twenty-two years.

"You look amazing," I told her.

"No," she said, her voice becoming soft. "You do."

Then she shocked me by hugging me. Underneath the hairspray and body lotion, I caught her scent, like lemons and sea spray. I inhaled, knowing I'd never come across either of those without thinking of my sister.

She let me go with a snort. "Did you just smell me?"

Sheepish, I nodded. "All the blood Vlad gave me put more than my hearing into overdrive."

Another snort. "You get weirder by the day, you know that?" Then she glanced around, but the three genius seamstresses had left. "Well, do I smell okay? You can't beg, bribe, or steal perfume in this place."

A house of people with hyperactive olfactory senses? I didn't doubt it. Perfume would be like mace to vampires.

"You smell fine," I assured her.

Taps sounded at the door. Gretchen opened it, revealing Marty. He wore a black tuxedo that must have been recently made because he didn't own one, and it fit him like a glove. His bushy sideburns were now neatly trimmed and his thick black hair was slicked back, adding a hint of rakishness to his formal appearance.

"It's time," he said. Then he stared. "Wow, kid. Both of you," he hastily added.

I turned so Marty could see my entire dress, careful not to trip on my train. "I still can't believe Sinead, Frances, and Bertrice made this in six hours. Those vampires sewed so fast, they almost caught the threads on fire."

My voice trailed off as someone else appeared behind Marty. Hugh Dalton also wore a tuxedo, and his gray-black hair was freshly cut. The lines in his face looked sharper, but lips that had been drawn into a slit softened somewhat as he looked at me.

"No matter what I think about this, Leila, you're my daughter, so you are not walking down that aisle alone."

I swallowed hard. Gretchen hissed, "Eye makeup!" and elbowed me, but her eyes had a new shine, too. It had been a long time since we'd done anything together as a family.

Marty took Gretchen's arm. "Come on, beautiful. I'll show you where to go."

She gave her hair a final pat and then blew me a kiss. "See you soon, sis."

The two of them left. My father continued to stare at me. Then he let out a sigh that seemed to come from deep inside him.

"You're sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure," I said in a steady voice.

He took my arm. My new current-repelling, ivory gloves only came to my wrists so he absorbed a shock, yet he concealed his wince behind a strained smile.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

I barely recognized the third floor. The normal furnishings were gone and the dark walls were covered with white silk. More silk hung from the ceiling, creating an elegant tenting effect. The hallway had flowers wrapped around white stone torches that were spaced with polished shields between them. Those shields picked up the firelight and reflected it, bathing the entire hallway with a golden glow. The scent to my newly sensitive nose made the air heavier and sweeter. Walking through it was like traversing an enchanted tunnel.

Marty and Gretchen entered the main doors to the ballroom. My father and I followed, and when we appeared in the entryway, organ music swelled, snatching away my gasp.

It wasn't the ballroom's new look that took my breath away, though the aisle formed from towering pillars of white roses and the massive antique chandeliers ablaze with hundreds of candles had transformed the room into a gothic dreamscape. It was all the faces that turned toward us. There had to be two thousand people, the sea of black tuxedos broken occasionally by splashes of color from women in formal gowns.

Had Vlad invited the entire town? I wondered in disbelief.

That thought vanished as I caught a glimpse of the groom. Vlad stood on a raised white dais, a canopy of intertwining iron vines rising several feet above him. He wasn't wearing a tuxedo. How like him not to blend in. Instead, his ebony jacket had thick braiding around the shoulders, reminding me of what kings wore in official ceremonies. It buttoned to his neck, the high collar framing his strong, chiseled jaw line. His pants were also black, but the cloak that draped over his shoulders and pooled at his feet was scarlet. Its edges were trimmed with ermine, and a wide gold chain held it closed, a gold and jet pendant the size of Vlad's fist hanging from the center.

In short, he was magnificent.

I walked down the aisle, barely noticing anyone else. Even the pressure from my father's hand faded away. Vlad's hair was brushed completely back, revealing his slight widow's peak. The absence of those dark waves made his lean features, strong brows, and high cheekbones that much more striking, and his coppery-colored eyes seemed to penetrate into my very soul.

Come to me, they silently commanded. Even if I wanted to refuse, I didn't think I could.

I was twenty feet away when fire snaked up the iron canopy, winding through all those intricately carved vines. My father stopped, his grip tightening to hold me back.

"Leila - "

"It's all right," I said. I'd never fear fire with Vlad near.

Then I let my arm slip from my father's grip, walking those last few feet alone. The canopy continued to blaze but not a stray spark dropped to the ground. By the time I climbed to the top of the dais and took Vlad's hand, the iron had lightened from the intensity of the flames, until it looked like the metal canopy above us had turned into molten gold.

To say I'd always remember this moment would be an understatement.

I was so dazzled it took me a second to realize the dais had stairs behind it, too. A gray-haired man in a long white garment climbed up to us. Then he made the sign of the cross while intoning something in Latin. Once he was finished, everyone sat in near perfect unison. That sort of coordination told me the majority of our guests had to be vampires.

I had no idea you had so many friends! slipped through my mind before I realized how it sounded.

Vlad's mouth quirked. Then, the minister? officiator? began speaking in English so I finally understood him.

"Dearest friends," he said with a heavy Italian accent. "We are here to witness the joining of this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony."

With my abilities, I'd relived a lot of weddings. I'd also relived enough divorces to know the vow we were about to make had more than a fifty percent chance of failure, but that didn't intimidate me. I'd faced longer odds before, and Vlad was well worth the fight.

He smiled at that: knowing, challenging, and oh so sensual.

"No fight," he murmured. "We are forever now. This first ceremony is only so that you and everyone else know it, too."

First ceremony? I wondered, but then the officiator said, "May we have the rings?" and I froze. With all the activity today, I'd forgotten we didn't have rings. Now what?

To my surprise, Gretchen ascended the dais escorted by Mencheres. The long-haired Egyptian must be Vlad's best man. He handed something to Vlad, and my sister took my bouquet while pressing something into my hand.

I looked down, relieved to see twisting bands of gold forming an unusual-looking ring. Then curiosity had me glancing at Vlad's closed hand. What sort of ring had he gotten me?

"Put the ring on her hand," the officiator stated. "Will you, Vladislav Basarab, take this woman, Leila Dalton, to be your wife . . ."

The words blurred into white noise when I saw the wide gold ring Vlad slid onto my finger, a jeweled dragon emblazoned on its surface. I didn't need Vlad to tell me that this was no replica. I could feel it throbbing from the essences of the ancient princes who'd worn it before me, Vlad included.

He hadn't given me an ordinary diamond ring. He'd given me the royal seal of the Dracul line, resized to fit my finger.

I didn't hear the officiator finish, but Vlad said, "I will," first in English, then in Romanian. The instant roar from the audience startled me out of my shock. Wasn't the cheering supposed to come after both of us said our vows?

Then it was my turn, and I slid the ring onto Vlad's hand while vowing to love, honor, and cherish him. No roar sounded after I was done speaking. In fact, the place went absolutely silent when the officiator stated that if anyone objected to our union, they should speak now or forever hold their peace.

To my relief, neither my father nor Marty said anything. Otherwise, someone in this groom-oriented crowd might have "forever" silenced them on the spot.

Then came the words I never thought to hear - man and wife - followed by a soul-searing kiss I would never forget.

This time, the cheers were deafening.

Chapter 29

I found out who ninety-five percent of the guests were while accepting their congratulations. First-generation members of Vlad's line, meaning vampires he'd changed over himself. Apparently, his lineage was so extensive that even his huge house couldn't hold all the vampires his people had changed over, too. From their assortment of accents, Vlad's undead offspring hailed from all over the world. They must have dropped everything to rush here tonight.

Then again, they might have been afraid not to. I couldn't see Vlad taking I was chillaxin' as an acceptable reason to miss his wedding.

The vast number of guests meant I spent the first three hours getting my gloved hand kissed and hearing names I'd never remember. The next hour consisted of sampling bites from a feast so massive the nearby town could eat leftovers for days. Then came an avalanche of toasts, until I had to fake drinking or risk getting hammered at my own wedding.

Gretchen had no such concerns. She'd passed the giggly stage and moved onto is-the-room-spinning-or-is-it-me? phase. My father stayed close, glaring at any undead male who looked twice at her. He hadn't offered a toast, but he was still here.

The gigantic clock struck two a.m. when Vlad rose and held out his hand. I took it, surprised at the cheers that followed. Was that the signal for We're outta here? I hoped so. My energy was starting to wane and I didn't want to spend the last of it here, stunningly lavish though the reception might be.

Vlad laughed low. "Believe me, you won't."

Then he swept me into his arms to the accompaniment of more cheers and quite a few knowing chuckles. I didn't even have a chance to say good night before we were out of the ballroom and up the stairs. Then the hallway was a blur that culminated in a door closing decisively behind us.

I wasn't the one who carried someone over a hundred yards in less than five seconds, yet my heart started to pound anyway. In a reversal of his prior speed, Vlad let my body slide down his, inch by tantalizing inch, as he set me on my feet. All the while he stared at me with an intensity that made words seem insultingly trivial by comparison.

I forgot the thousands of people with supernatural hearing one floor below us. Didn't care that somewhere, a female vampire and other would-be killers were finding out I was alive and that I'd married Vlad. Under the weight of his stare, all of that fell away until there was nothing except the two of us.

Vlad unhooked the gold chain that held his regal scarlet cloak together. It dropped to the floor with a muted thud. I pulled out the clip my veil was attached to and unwound my hair from its bun. The frothy lace fell to my feet at the same pace that my hair spilled over my shoulders.

His hands twined in that dark mass before sliding down to the hidden clasps at my back. I drew in a breath as lace and chiffon were replaced with the searing touch of his fingers. Then I tried to undo his jacket, but my gloves were too cumbersome. I took them off, yet before I could catch the ring that came off with them, Vlad did. Green rolled over his eyes as he slid it onto my bare finger.

Then his hand swept down his chest, the fastenings popping open as if by magic. I only had a second to see the shirt underneath before it, too, was gone and he was na**d from the waist up. I drank in the sight of his muscled chest with its dusting of dark hair and numerous scars. Vlad looked like what he was - a warrior who'd hacked his way through battles that would've killed lesser men. Unclothed, his seething masculinity and inherent dangerousness weren't diminished. Instead, they increased, and I'd have it no other way. A groan escaped me as I reached out and touched his hard, heated flesh.

He slid my dress off my shoulders and each sleeve down my arms, leaving me in a bustier, panties, and silk stockings. I wasn't even na**d, yet as his gaze moved over me, I felt more exposed than I ever had before. Vlad seemed to stare past my skin into places of my soul that I'd never shared with anyone, and in the space of those moments, he claimed them as his.

I gazed at him with equal possessiveness. Whatever he'd done, whoever he'd been before and whoever he would be in the future, he was mine. If he still had shields over parts of his heart, I'd tear them down or blast them open. You can have all of me, I silently told him, but I'm taking all of you in return.

His smile was sensual and challenging, a dare for me to keep that promise. Then he pulled me into his arms, his bare skin sending shock waves of heat into my flesh. He lifted me, kicking away the fallen dress as his mouth closed over mine.