Bite Me, Your Grace

By the time the group had returned to Burnrath House, John Polidori had regained consciousness. Angelica was relieved that Ian had dismissed the servants for the night.

 

“I cannot believe I was buried alive,” Polidori said after his thirst was slaked with a cup of water. “In a way, I wish I had been able to be aware of the situation. The experience would have been interesting, in a morbid sort of manner.”

 

“You will have your chance soon enough,” Rafael Villar told him. “You and your bride will be transported by coffin on the journey to France and then to America, only able to rise at night to feed. I wager you’ll be sick of being a corpse by the end of it.”

 

Angelica shuddered at the thought of being trapped in a box on a ship for a journey halfway across the world. She wished Rosetta and John didn’t have to go so far, but she knew that America was the safest place for them. Though John had “died” to the public, there was still a great chance that he would be recognized in England or on the Continent.

 

The Spanish vampire that would rule London for the next fifty years stalked toward Polidori with a scowl. “Are you ready, doctor?”

 

John kissed Rosetta and nodded. “Yes.”

 

Since Ian was to Change Angelica tonight, Rafael had agreed to Change John, for Rosetta was not old or powerful enough to be able to do the deed herself.

 

Rafael fixed Angelica with an intent stare. “Consider my debt to you repaid, duchess.”

 

Angelica swallowed and nodded. “Thank you, Rafael.”

 

Ian took her in his arms. “Would you like to watch the process before I Change you?”

 

Angelica smiled at her husband with shining eyes. He had worked so hard to form a plan to keep John and Rosetta together safely.

 

“No. I trust you with all my heart.” She grabbed the candelabra with one hand and extended her other for his escort. “Shall we retire to our room, Your Grace?”

 

Ian nodded. “Indeed, my duchess.”

 

They mounted the stairs to the bedchamber, his hand clinging to hers as if he would never let go of her grasp.

 

Once the lamps were lit, Ian tilted her chin with reverent fingertips. “Angel, I have been meaning to inform you, there were many historical inaccuracies in your vampire story. For example, potatoes and beer were not around until the Elizabethan era, when they were introduced from the New World. Ale and wine were the preferred beverages of Henry’s reign.”

 

Angelica stiffened at the painful reminder of the manuscript he had burned. “And just what point are you trying to make, Your Grace?”

 

He smiled. “If you were willing to rewrite the tale, I would be happy to help you with the historical details of the reign of Henry VIII. And then there is the matter of the ending. You left the characters in quite a bind. How did you intend for that to work out?”

 

Her heart nearly burst with joy. “You want me to write the story again, truly? I struggled unbearably with it, for I was unable to come up with a suitable happy ending for my characters. Things were so strained between us, you see.” A frown marred her brow. “But what would people say? What if another hunter comes after you?”

 

“Thanks to Polidori’s tale, vampire stories are springing up everywhere. I’m sure the hunters are chasing their tails trying to find the real ones. Still, I feel it would likely be prudent to wait a while before publishing your tale.”

 

Angelica blinked in disbelief at his cavalier words. “I believe we have plenty of time, Your Grace. I still have no idea how to end the dratted thing.”

 

Ian caressed her cheek. “Then we will have to seek inspiration.” He captured her lips until she was breathless from his kisses before he sank to his knee. “Angelica Ashton, will you be my eternal bride and companion? Will you walk beside me every night for as long as we both shall live?”

 

She melted into his embrace. “I will.”

 

As his fangs sank into her throat, she smiled. None of her stories could have ended this perfectly.

 

 

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

“A letter has arrived for you, Your Grace,” Burke announced as he entered the library.

 

Angelica glanced up from her book on French grammar as Ian took the envelope.

 

“It is from the Lord of Cornwall,” he said after the butler departed. Ian opened the letter. “Let’s see what Vincent has to say.” His brow creased as he read. “Hmmm…” he said, and set the letter down, still frowning.

 

“What’s wrong?” Angelica asked, hoping Lord Deveril was all right. He was a kind vampire.

 

Ian shook his head. “It seems Vincent is asking for your help.”

 

“What?” Her eyes widened. She’d only been a vampire for a little over a month. How could she be any help to one as old and powerful as Deveril?

 

Her husband nodded. “You recall hearing of the death of the Earl of Morley, yes?”