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“Are you ok?” Glancing over at Ghost, she forced her smile to be brighter.
“I am so nervous” the understatement of the year. She was about to marry the vampire king of America, and like some bad romance gone wrong, all she could think about was running away with his bodyguard. You couldn’t get more cliche than that.
“I would shit my pants if I were you,”
Before she answered, there was a knock at the bedroom door. Striding across the room, even in her bathrobe, Ghost managed to look deadly. Pulling open the door, she sighed.
“What is that?”
“It’s the lady’s medicine,”
Medicine is what most of the help called the drug that Draven insisted she inject into her veins every day. Surprised at the flicker of annoyance that filled her, Talia frowned. It was for her own good, after all.
“I told you I didn’t need that. Already have a secure doze with me,” Ghost said before closing the door, cutting off any response from the young human. With an eye roll, she turned and walked away.
“I swear they get more stupid every year,”
“Secure?” turning to open the suitcase on the lounge nearby. Talia looked at Ghost over her shoulder. “Is there a problem?”
“Nope.” Ghost pulled out a capped syringe from the deep pocket of her robe. “Nobody but me touches your doze. Can’t get poisoned that way. “
“If it’s such a danger, maybe we should skip it?” She tried to keep her words even. Disinterested. “After all, I’m his wife from tonight onwards. Inquisition or not” turning her eyes on the suitcase in front of her, her hands busy looking for the lingerie to go under the dress.
Ghost’s voice lowered as she spoke
“Sorry hun. Draven’s orders are that you are to be dozed up nightly until after your honeymoon.”
Any comment she was going to make died in her throat as her hands glided over the old leather. Moving aside a nightgown, she stared down at Hyde’s club jacket. She didn’t remember packing it. She couldn’t help but run her fingers over the bold President patch on his chest.
Her fingertips moving to the stud at the collar. A brown spot of blood catching her eye on the shiny metal circle. It was just a tiny spot. Easy to miss. Yet her fingers trembled as she touched it.
His blood. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
He had taken every blow for her. His blood running over her skin, he had whispered reassurance in her ear. She could almost hear the crack of the whip. Feel the blood warm creep over her skin. The memory was almost physical as she swayed to it.
“Talia?” jumping at Simone’s touch on her arm, she pushed the jacket deep in her suitcase. Her fingers hooking on the satin bag of lingerie, she turned.
“You ok?” Ghost was turning her away from Simone towards herself. Her eyes concerned, she frowned. “you don’t have to do this... if you’re not ready...”
“I love Draven” smiling Talia shook her head. “It’s just a little cold feet, you know” pushing aside her doubts, Talia shook her head. “It’s been a crazy few weeks” Draven wasn’t perfect, but he loved her. Change could happen. After all, he was her soul mate. She truly believed that.
Didn’t she?
“Well, sit on down so you can get your shot, then we can get you ready.” Simone’s voice was brisk.
Moving to a chair, Talia pulled her arm out of the gown. Watching Ghost check the needle, her stomach clenching.
With the ease that plenty of practise had given her. Ghost moved to her exposed upper arm. Injecting her quick and easy.
It had become almost a normal part of her day. The warm flush across her skin that normally came from the injection was missing. She might be getting used to it.
Simone opened the door as Ghost finished.
Welcoming in two vampire maids laden with makeup and hair products. Talia found herself once again seated in front of the dresser, with the two women standing over her. Both tugging and pulling on her hair, trying to tame the curls into an elegant hair style. They moved with such ease and coordination that it was as if they shared the same mind. Their icy fingers moving against her skin.
Once they were satisfied with the way her hair fell in a blonde Grecian cascade, they began working on her face. With deft strokes of brushes of various sizes, they transformed her features into a polished work of art.
Moving as though in a dream, she lifted her hands to be manicured. Even her toenails were being painted a golden hue.
