It was a dark and stormy night. The shadows seemed to blend into the air, creating swirling mists of deep blue-gray. Streaks of jagged lightning lit the heavens and illuminated the grim-looking manor house. Dracul's human coachman had led Jane here to meet destiny head-on, just as she had predicted.
The count's estate was a matter of acquired taste, Jane thought with a shudder. It was tall, dark and ominous, with gargoyles lining the front gates and door. The building stood out in stark relief against the bleak landscape of gray and black, and the area clearly hid frightening things that not only went bump in the night, but bumped things off.
Gathering her quickly fleeing courage, Jane raised the gargoyle knocker on the front door and let it drop. A loud clanging echoed out. Bravely she stood her ground, while fear ate at her insides. She had to do this for Asher, though Dracul terrified her. His eyes were so ancient and evil, luring the innocent to their immortal doom.
Shivering, Jane raised her chin, trying to shore up her dwindling courage. She was a Van Helsing, a curse on vampirekind everywhere. She would face Dracul and face him with her head held high. She had no choice. She was the diversionary tactic to keep the count's deadly attention, while her family slipped bravely inside.
A tall skeletonlike butler named O'Hara opened the door. He stared coldly at Jane with dull brown eyes and motioned her forward. He led her into a vast cavernlike drawing room which was decorated in dark, harsh slashes of scarlet and black. A large tapestry was embroidered with Dante's words, which Jane repeated grimly: " 'All hope, abandon ye who enter here.'"
A massive portrait of a dark-haired woman with glowing eyes and a long pale neck was hung over a black-marbled fireplace. Her face was cold and intimidating. Before it stood the Prince of Darkness himself, dressed in a deep blue smoking jacket, his pale golden hair shining in the glow of the fire. Two other vampires sat side by side on a large black settee. One was very tall, cadaverous-looking, which meant he hadn't fed in a long time. He had long red hair that was interlaced with gray and tied in a queue. The other vampire had slightly Germanic features, and a massive burn, long scarred over, on his neck. Holy water, Jane recognized. Both bloodsuckers' malevolent and monstrous eyes bored holes into her.
"Jane, my love, what a surprise," Dracul purred, his eyes glowing. Turning to his two companies, he managed a smile that revealed a hint of fang. "We love surprises, don't we, my friends?"
The two vampires nodded in agreement, their cold, reptilian eyes studying Jane as if she were a particularly fine dessert. It made her flesh crawl. It made her heart beat a thunderous rhythm that must be deafening to the predators, Jane surmised. How she wanted to hide in the corner or stick her head in a very deep hole that totally covered up her neck. If she died tonight, she hoped Renfield would still remember to find Orville a mate. And she hoped the female ostrich would be pretty—Orville deserved the best.
"I wish I could return the sentiment," she managed to say, bold in spite of the wild beating of her heart. "Where is my husband?"
Dracul threw back his head and laughed. "Loyal to the very end," he said. "How Van Helsing of you."
The other two vampires hissed as they glared at her, continuing to dissect Jane with their gruesome stares. Jane knew they were thinking wicked thoughts of what to do to her, since her family was definitely de trop in their social circles.
Again, Dracul laughed his sharp laugh. It was enough to slice skin. "Herrs Blixen and Rudolph appear to lack proper appreciation for your heritage," he said.
Jane shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as her knees trembled beneath her skirts. "It is a fine heritage," she argued.
Blixen hissed again, this time revealing three-inch fangs.
"Herr Blixen disagrees. Your grandfather marked him with holy water over fifty years ago. He is quite pleased to find you as my guest tonight. What delights we have in store," the count warned in a mocking tone.
At these words, a lady in a bloodred gown entered the room. Jane gasped and stared. It was Lady Veronique, who turned to her and smiled, her fangs showing.
"So this is Jane Van Helsing-Asher," Lady Veronique remarked, licking her lips, her red tongue darting out. "I am hungry, my lord. May I snack upon her a bit?"
Count Dracul laughed harshly. "No, my pet. Jane is for me."
Lady Veronique pouted prettily. "But I am hungry."
"Rudolph will take you out to London later tonight. More tasty prostitutes await in White Chapel." Dracul added, "As I said, Jane is solely for me."
Chin held high, Jane drew on her inner strength. She would be brave to save her love. "Enough of your boasts. I came here to find my husband," she demanded, if her voice was barely a squeak. I should be on the stage, she thought vaguely. No one would know that right at this moment, she was about to pass out with fear.
Dracul motioned his butler to the upstairs room. "Bring down our other guest, O'Hara. If he is unable to walk, carry him."
The butler moved to obey.
Subconsciously, Jane clenched her fists and sucked in her breath. Asher had to be all right. At least she knew that her husband was still alive—well, as alive as the walking dead could be.
Dracul turned to the taller of his two guests. "Rudolph, go help O'Hara bring down our friend the earl."
The taller vampire complied with the prince's demand, exiting the room as silently as a ghost. Even from where Jane stood, she could smell a touch of the grave about him.
"Now, my dear," the count began, turning his attention back to her. "Did you come to rescue Asher?" He moved closer. "And remember, anything you say can and will be held against you. I plan to hold quite a few things against you."
"I came to see if I could bargain for my husband," Jane lied, hiding her anxiety under a streak of bravado. Silently, she quoted, He whose ranks are united in purpose will be victorious.
"You aren't afraid I will destroy you as Asher destroyed my bride?"
"You can try," Jane retorted bravely—and stupidly, she decided. He could squash her like a fly.
The count laughed. "Such courage. But don't push me, or I won't compare you to a summer night," he mocked. He clearly intended to insult her. "The least Asher could have done was marry a beauty."
Jane's eyes narrowed. "I've been insulted by better vampires than you," she replied. She and her family could not fail in this, their greatest mission. She would get Asher out of here alive. She swore it.
Ignoring her courageous but useless words, Dracul examined Jane from the top of her head all the way to her feet. "No, you are not Asher's usual type of woman," he said, trailing one long finger down her cheek. Jane shivered, repulsed by his touch. She felt her blood run cold. The thought cheered her up. Maybe if her blood got too cold, the Count of Nasty would be too disgusted to drink it. Did he prefer hot blood?
"No, not his usual style at all," Dracul continued, slowly studying her. "Yet, I can see the attraction. Such lovely eyes… and that neck." He paused and leaned closer to lay a kiss on her pale skin. She shuddered in horror at the icy touch of death. She felt the wet damp of the graveyard in his kiss. Terror filled her veins.
Jane drew back rigidly, returning Dracul's gaze with one of loathing. He stiffened as he tried to mesmerize her with his stare. Then, ungracious in defeat, he snarled, "So it is true. I had heard it, but did not believe. Van Helsings do not fall wholly under our spell. But that is because shape-shifters are immune to our vampiric gaze."
Stepping back, he circled Jane like a stalking cat. "Very dangerous to our kind. Don't you agree, Asher?"
Jane gasped as she spotted the bloody figure of her husband being dragged into the room, supported by Rudolph and O'Hara. She was just in the neck of time.
Her husband was wrapped in silver chains that had burned partially into his chest and arms. His face was whiter than a sheet, blood covering his jacket and the left side of his face. Jane darted forward to reach him, but was jerked back by Dracul's grip on her arm.
"No, Jane. You don't belong at his side anymore. Now you are mine—my war trophy, so to speak." Dracul taunted both his captives, his eyes glowing with unholy fire. "You will become my third bride tonight with Asher as our witness." The count laughed cruelly, while Jane's husband struggled in vain to break free of the tall vampire and the butler.
Asher's cry of rage filled the air. He felt as if his heart was ripped from his chest. Dracul had Jane, his Jane. Dracul would make her his immortal bride, and Jane would be tied through eternity to a monster of unequaled depravity and cruelty. Her kind, courageous heart would be destroyed by living with such a monster.
Jane tried wrenching her arm free, needing to place as much distance between herself and the Prince of Evil as possible. But his grip was like a vise, holding her in place.
Lady Veronique was gazing at Dracul. "I want to be your bride," she snarled.
Dracul quickly backhanded her with his free arm. "Quiet, Veronique! You are to be Rudolph's consort—as well you know."
Lady Veronique cringed at the anger in the count's eyes. She submitted with a small tremor. "As you say, my master."
Asher's vision was blurred; he had lost too much blood to have any strength, yet still he struggled, trying to reach his wife. He had always had a weakness for lost causes. Staring at Jane, he realized that he was ashamed. This woman had come to him in his greatest hour of need, risking her life. All this after he had treated her with barely concealed contempt, humiliating her in front of society and ignoring her in private.
Suddenly Asher despised himself for his misplaced affections and liaisons. For hundreds of years he had been searching for true love, a special woman to be his eternal bride, and Jane had been placed right in front of him. Perhaps he had been living in dirt so long that he couldn't understand anything above it, but true devotion was before him now: his wife in Dracul's cunning clutches, a shining example of beauty, kindness and true good. She was one of the few in the world who listened to her heart and followed through, no matter the odds stacked against her.
The tall vampire slammed Asher against the wall, causing stars to appear before his closed eyes. Sharp pain stabbed him. He hurt, and he knew he was wounded badly. They had kept him chained and thirsty to keep him from healing.
"Jane," he whispered sadly. Why had she come? Why had she risked her life and soul? The answer hit him straight in the heart like a bolt from Cupid's quiver: His calamity-ridden wife loved him.
Asher felt bloodred tears well up in his eyes. His wife loved him! He had never felt more depressed or happier, in his whole life. Blinking back sorrow, his determination to live to see another night with Jane at his side grew and expanded within him. Nothing could happen to his wife. He wouldn't let Jane be Dracul's eternal consort. She would be his own consort, and his alone. Somehow he would get them out of this dreadful debacle, and spend eternity by her side. Although things had never looked worse, things also had never looked better, because he was in love with his wife.
If he hadn't been so stubborn and idiotic, he would have recognized that the lust he felt for Jane was much more than that. The hunger he felt for her whenever he was in her presence, or out of it, was not only a hunger for blood and to lose himself in her body, but also for conversation, for the way she cocked her head when she was troubled. He loved how she played with her big bird and spoke to Spot, and the all-aglow smile she wore after he made love to her—a smile that said she had just discovered the secrets of the universe.
If he and Jane survived this night, he would swear by the heavens and stars that, in love, he would never go hungry again. "Jane, forgive me," he uttered, lifting his head and staring into her beautiful eyes.
"I do."
Oh, how the mighty had fallen. He had been waiting forever, it seemed. Waiting in the darkness for light. Jane was that: his glowing joy, his reason to get up and rise out of his coffin each night. She would be a companion for his youth and his old age, a woman of remarkable character and generosity of both spirit and nature. And he was the lucky man she'd married. They could have a wonderful future together of watching birds and the starts of sunrises, sleeping like the dead and watching the changing of the guards, art, music, literature, inventions and customs—everything as the centuries passed by. A world of words, spectacular surprises, ships perhaps sailing underwater, men flying and not as bats. If only he could remain alive beyond this one night, with Jane as his eternal bride, wedded in undead matrimony…
"Jane will be a replacement for the bride you murdered," Dracul stated with fiendish delight. "After all, I have always said that revenge is a dish best served at body temperature."
"I had no choice, and you know it. Yvette was killing children," Asher cried, his body wracked with pain. The skin near the silver chains on him was starting to char and blacken.
Dracul shrugged. "As if I care about that. Their lives meant nothing. Small, insignificant mortal children—they are nothing before us. You sacrificed someone I cared for because of mere human weaklings," he sneered. He was clearly enraged, his clenched jaws seemingly cut from marble. "To destroy one of us, for a mortal. Us! We are like gods. Vampirekind is the superior race. Mortals are mere food. To be toyed with, tortured, used, abused, discarded and drained."
Asher shook his head, hearing some of his own words coming back to haunt him. He knew humans were weaker, but hearing the base count spew such biased filth, he felt ashamed. His wife was human, as was Clair Frankenstein Huntsley, and both women were as remarkable as people could be.
"I enjoyed Yvette's body and mind," Dracul continued. "She always envisioned the best tortures. And you destroyed her!" Dracul spat, pointing a long, elegant finger at Asher. "For humans, who are mere insects to be squashed beneath our feet!"
Asher winced, feeling trickles of blood running down his back. They had struck him with thin, silver-barbed whips. His wrists were raw and swollen where his chains slowly ate into his flesh.
"No. They are more than that," he replied, shaking his head. He had once believed fiercely in the superiority of his race. Humans had meant little to him besides sex and food. They fought and died for greed, lust, revenge and power, killing each other much faster than his own race could cause their extinction. Yet… "I have met men of honor and truth. I have known both good men and bad, just as there are good and bad of our own kind. Man is as complex and as special as our own race. What gives you the right to judge? Nothing. Only a fading belief in your own omnipotence."
Asher caught Dracul's look of utter disgust and disbelief. He added, "I didn't realize it before. Not until Jane came into my life." His wife was like a breath of fresh air, stirring the dankness crypt's cold, musty air. He lifted his eyes and looked at her, love filling his eyes.
The count cursed, the ferocity of his rage revealing his profound evil. "You are a fool, Asher! Man is but a breath of shadow, while we are lords of all things. Mankind is a doomed species, and we are its rightful rulers. We shall be here long after their race is dust in the wind. It is our purpose to make them so."
"That's blind, Dracul." Asher shook his head. "Without food, how will we survive? Your vision is shortsighted at best."
The count glowered at him and motioned Rudolph to secure Asher's hands above him, to attach him to a long iron hook suspended from the ceiling beams. "You're a fool, Asher!" he snarled. "A sentimental, human-loving fool. A disgrace to our kind."
Asher struggled in vain, his strength rapidly draining. His arms were lifted high above his head, and he had to stretch out fully so that they did not bear the whole weight of his body. His back arched from the uncomfortable position.
Once he was in place, Dracul approached him, pulling Jane alongside. For one moment Asher thought he might pass out from pain and loss of blood, but gallantly he managed to shove the encroaching darkness away.
"You shall watch me make her mine," Dracul jeered, pulling Jane into his arms. "You shall go to your grave forever, knowing your wife is now my consort." He encircled her from behind, his arms locking hers as he caressed her breasts. Lady Veronique clapped her hands, smiling.
Asher growled, forgetting his chains in his anger. Unable to watch such a creature of evil touch his wife, he tried to launch himself at Dracul.
The attempt caused Asher to lose his balance. He barely managed to keep his feet beneath him as fresh blood leaked from his numerous wounds, adding to the stains already on his white shirt. He hated being helpless. He hated seeing the fear in his wife's eyes. He should be protecting her, not chained to this bloody hook.
Dracul watched with nefarious enjoyment. "Such lovely, lush breasts—and they shall be mine to suckle from this night forth," the count prodded ruthlessly. Leaning back to study Jane's profile, he added, "But no great beauty like Yvette was."
He was wrong, Asher thought. Jane was the first stirring of breath in his body when he woke from the sleep of the dead. She was the melodic music of the night wind, and the twinkling stars at deep midnight. His wife might be a calamity, but she was his calamity. She might own a great big bird that ran amok in his household, but not every earl had a real ostrich in residence who could save his wife's life. His wife's family might be the cursed Van Helsings, but at least they were successful at what they did, and she loved him despite that.
"You are quite mistaken," Asher said, gazing adoringly upon his wife. "Jane is the most beautiful woman in the world, and quite extraordinary." How could anyone alive not see that? How had he missed it for so long?
Stunned, Jane raised her eyes to meet Asher's. What she saw there made her heart sing. Her husband thought she was beautiful. He thought she was extraordinary. Jane felt something break inside her, slowly cracking open to reveal the heart of the woman she really was. Never again would she feel unattractive, for the ugly duckling had at last realized she was a swan.
She felt tears filling her eyes, and at the same time she had an insane urge to laugh. For once in her life, in this miserable, frightening struggle, she felt truly radiant.
"How droll. She must be an acquired taste," Dracul mocked, his voice laced with condescension. "Perhaps, she will be at least be tasty—a fine vintage from the age-old keg of Van Helsing."
"You wish you knew," Asher muttered, his blood heating to the boiling point, the point of explosion, as Dracul's hand's roamed over his wife's voluptuous form. He would break the count's fingers one by one. No vampire touched what was his and lived to tell the tale.
Lady Veronique retorted smugly, "I bet she won't taste as sweet as I did, Count."
Dracul laughed again. "Oh, but she will. Revenge is the sweetest taste of all."
Lady Veronique frowned at her lord and master as Jane struggled against her foe's humiliating hold, trying to break free, her hands outstretched to touch her husband. In this stronghold of fear, Asher was her protection against Dracul's dark obsessions and dangerous liaison.
The count smiled again, an expression devoid of all kindness. "Stop that, Jane. You are mine now. Soon your loyalty to him will be bestowed upon a much worthier object.
"So let the games begin. We will let Asher play with Lady Montcrief. She has confided to me that she owes your husband for four long months spent in a coffin without a hint of fresh air or blood." Dracul laughed, clearly enjoying the fear emanating off Jane and Asher's helpless bodies. "Can we guess that she was not a happy vampire, being locked in a coffin for months without being fed? Such a harsh punishment for such a trifling offense," the count mocked.
Asher spoke with a hint of his old hauteur, in spite of the gravity of his injuries. "She tried to kill me, the master of her nest. You know full well I could have put her to the death for that 'trifling offense.'"
Again the Prince of Darkness shrugged. "It is lucky for me that she didn't succeed. I do so love torture. And I have such fine things planned for you," he added mercilessly. "Don't we, my pet?" Dracul directed the last statement to Lady Montcrief, who had just entered the room. Lady Veronique's frown grew grim with jealousy.
Jane flinched when she saw the treacherous vampiress. Lady Montcrief wore a revealing black gown, better suited to the boudoir than this place, with a décolletage that plunged nearly to her waist. The wicked vamp was accompanied by two others of clearly Slavic origin.
As the vampiress approached, Jane saw Lady Montcrief's hand rise to slap Asher. The blow knocked Neil's head to the side, and her palm left a vivid red print against his pale cheek.
"Stop!" Jane cried in terror and anger.
Ignoring her, Lady Montcrief lifted her hand and touched the blood dripping down Asher's face. He jerked back.
She laughed, a shrill sound, and turned around, slowly licking his blood off her fingers. She kept her vile gaze focused on Jane, enjoying the anguish and disgust she evoked. Raising her hand, she lifted her fingers. "Care for a taste?" she asked.
Jane's stomach rumbled in reproach. She knew she would be mortified to cast up her accounts, but all this blood was sickening, even if it was her beloved husband's.
The blood-tipped fingers moved closer and closer, and soon were a mere inch from Jane's face. She swooned, only to be revived a few moments later by Dracul's cold hand on her head and his grotesque comment: "Jane, wake up and smell the blood."
Finding herself in the count's arms, with Lady Montcrief and Lady Veronique watching anxiously, Jane shuddered. Where were the troops when you needed them? Where were her annoying, barbaric cousins? She was going to kill her entire family if they didn't arrive soon, and if this army of the undead didn't kill her and her husband first.
Stiffly, she pushed away from the Prince of Darkness. Lady Montcrief leaned in, running her fingers over Dracul's lips. He kissed the blood from them.
Becoming utterly entranced, Dracul released Jane. She immediately and with great relief eased away, moving nearer to her husband in careful, tiny steps, while Lady Veronique turned to Rudolph and ran her fingers over his chest.
Asher leaned toward Jane as Dracul continued sucking on Lady Montcrief's fingers, whispering, "Never let them see you sweat." He laughed deliriously.
Jane gave him a frosty look. "Of course not! Ladies don't sweat. And I'll have you know that I was brought up to be a lady, even in the face of death."
"In the very midst of life, we are always just a step away from death," Asher said.
"You can say that again!" Jane agreed. Looking around the room at the many frightening faces of the undead, she gave a sigh of defeat.
Asher cocked a brow. His hauteur looked ridiculous with all the blood on his face. "Oh, don't give me that look of icy disdain," Jane complained.
"I do that look best," came Asher's protest.
"How well I know. But now is not the time," Jane said, her hands on her hips. "You know, Asher, sometimes you can be a real pain in the neck."
Asher smiled, amused. Yes, for once in his depraved life, Dracul was correct. Jane was definitely an acquired taste—a bit funny, a bit spicy, a bit unsure of herself, a bit cowardly. But a lot of brave. Yes, she was a fine vintage indeed. His cup ranneth over with love for her.
"Actually, my love, I think that will soon be true of you too," he teased. "I hope when I am dead and gone, and you are out sucking down little children, you'll remember what a good guy I was," he added lightly. Then he paused to watch Lady Montcrief unbutton the count's dark breeches.
How uncouth, he thought, to copulate before an audience! But, then, Dracul was like that; whenever an urge took him, he acquiesced. Asher remembered one time the count had fornicated in front of a whole regiment of English troops. Over in the corner, Lady Veronique was sucking on Rudolph's neck while he caressed her bottom.
Jane started to seek out what had caught her husband's attention, but Asher shook his head. "Don't look now, Jane."
Accepting his words, she leaned in close, scolding her husband quietly, "If you die tonight…" Then, realizing what she had said, she quickly amended her comment: "I mean, really die. I will never forgive you. Never, ever."
Asher smiled. Jane meant every word. She had risked life and limb to save him. Her loyalty was to him alone. What a fool he had been! If he had tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, he would let his dearly beloved wife know just how much she meant to him.
"For I am a dead thing," Asher said, his eyes alight with the fires of love.
"Yes, I know that," Jane replied, bewildered.
Asher shook his head, explaining, "Jane, I am quoting poetry to you."
She stared in horror at him. "Now? In the midst of all this bloody danger, you're quoting poetry to me? Are you insane from blood loss?"
Asher ignored her. " 'I am every dead thing, in whom love wrought new alchemy. For his art did express a quintessence even from nothingness.'"
"Shakespeare?" Jane questioned, intrigued in spite of their dire situation. Her husband was not just quoting poetry; he was quoting love poetry.
Asher shook his head. "Donne."
"You're done?"
"No. John Donne," Asher said.
"John's done doing what?"
"John Donne, the poet!" Asher snapped.
"Are you sure? It sounded like Shakespeare to me."
"Of course I'm sure!" Asher retorted in a huff. No one should question his ability to recall the written word, not even his wife. Why couldn't she get it through her thick skull? "I said that it's Donne and it's Donne."
"Fine. It's done. But it sounds like Shakespeare to me," she replied. When Asher started to speak, Jane shook her head. "I can't believe we're arguing over poetry now, when Count Dracul is preparing to make me a bride and put you six feet under."
"I'm used to it," he joked.
"Not these six feet you aren't," Jane argued, glancing back at their amorous enemies, who were fondling each other. Revulsion covered her face at such behind-closed-door antics being conducted in plain view.
"I didn't know you could do that standing up," she said curiously.
Asher rolled his eyes. "Jane, pay attention here. I don't suppose you have a plan?" he asked. Then he added, "And of course you can do it standing up. I'll show you later if we make it out of here alive. Now, about that plan?"
Jane smiled. "My family is coming to rescue you."
That he would dearly like to see: a Van Helsing rushing to his rescue. "When elephants fly," he muttered.
Jane blushed a becoming pink, remembering the night she lost her virginity. "Why, I believe the elephants must be forming an air force."
She could tell from her husband's heated gaze that he was remembering as well. He tried to reach out and touch her, but the chains kept him bound.
Watching his tortured movements, Jane gently caressed his arm, frowning at the damage the silver chains were doing to him. Asher's wrists were scorched badly, the chains' links beginning to dig into the puffy, raw spots. "I'm sorry, my love, for what they have done to you," she said sadly. "But we will have you free soon. Just as soon as my family arrives. I was the diversion until the troops arrive."
Asher shook his head angrily. "Jane, why did you risk your life for me? Why did your family allow you to employ this dangerous stratagem?" If he left Dracul's alive tonight, he was going to have a long, harsh talk with the major.
"I came to save you! The Van Helsings are coming to destroy the Prince of Darkness. Well… Brandon actually wants to save you too—for me."
Asher glanced over at Dracul and Lady Montcrief, who had just finished copulating. "Then where are the troops?" he asked, clearly unconvinced.
"You don't believe me," Jane said.
"You, I believe, Jane. Don't you realize that my bond to you is stronger than these chains of silver? What I do believe is that I love you, in spite of this crazy world going to pieces around us. But your family is…" Asher halted abruptly as Count Dracul turned his attention back to them.
"Oh, Asher, I really could kill you," Jane murmured, her eyes sparkling with tears. "Now you tell me you love me, when death is at the door." Tenderly, she stroked his cheek.
"Kiss me, Jane, and let this memory carry me through eternity," her husband whispered softly.
She did just that, letting her lips and heart speak all the wondrous things in her heart. Things too new and special for words.
"How touching. Lovers," Dracul sneered, causing them to break apart.
"Oh, how it shall hurt when I take her with my eternal kiss, Asher. You shall know the agony of defeat, of wanting what you can no longer have. Of knowing I have taken your wife in every elemental way there is." The Prince of Evil's eyes sparkled with hate and blood-lust, and he yanked Jane back into his arms.
"I don't think so. I don't want to be a bride of someone who's always hissing at people like they're under-cooked steaks," Jane snapped, her voice quavering. Why was her family so late for this very important date? Where in bloody hell were her cousins, the barbarians at the gate?