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PROLOGUE
“You spent our entire honeymoon fund on this dusty old hotel room?” The bride sniffs disdainfully as she kicks off her ivory slingbacks.
One shoe slides underneath the honeymoon suite’s four-poster bed. The other bounces across the rug and comes to a stop in the gloomy corner behind the door, where I’m hiding.
Neither the bride nor the groom even turns in my direction, completely oblivious to my presence.
“Relax, baby. This place may be a little Addams Family chic, but the Bridgemont Hotel is the finest hotel in the state.” The groom walks over to the double-height window and throws open the curtains.
Pale light bathes the glamorous room in yellow stripes. Aside from the heart-shaped, king-sized bed dominating the center of the room, there really isn’t much else—just a night table, a dresser, and a surprisingly small TV. At least the bathroom has a tub big enough to fit more than one person.
“It was a complete dump for a decade or so, but rumor has it that the place got a new owner who has worked wonders on this place. I spared no expense for my new girl. Just look at this view.”
“A view of a grubby old forest? No thanks.” The bride makes a face as she turns away from the trees drenched in gray mist. “You can hardly see a thing out there with all this fog. At least they left us a free bottle of champagne.”
“Fancychampagne. And look at these chocolates…” The groom moves across the room to where the bride has found the gifts I carefully chose for them.
Anticipation curls in my stomach as he fingers one of the heart-shaped brown pieces.
Yesssss.
“Pffft. Those chocolates don’t look gluten-free, and I bet they’re made from cheap cocoa instead of the fine-grade stuff. Ew, what’s up with the message on the card? ‘Your Soul to Take’—that’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?Andit looks like someone’s eaten one already.” The bride jabs a red-painted nail at the empty space on the dish.
What a disrespectful bitch.
“That’s disgusting. You should complain.”
I can’t help but wonder what made the groom fall in love with this vile woman in the first place. She’s positively dreadful. But then she glances over her shoulder at him, all ivory skin and cascading blonde hair, and I can see the appeal. What I wouldn’t give to be the focus of that sultry gaze…
Focus. You have work to do.
“First thing in the morning, I promise to march down to the manager and demand extra chocolate for you, my darling. But now…” The groom wiggles his considerable eyebrows suggestively.
Despite the fact that the eyebrows are like two sentient caterpillars taking up residence on the man’s brow, the bride misses his invitation—she’s focused on trying to tug the cork from the bottle.
Smart woman,I think, shifting silently in the corner as my legs begin to cramp.I’d want to be drunk for this too.
While the woman is beautiful in an utterly human way—large tits, tapered waist, flowing hair—the man is completely and disgustingly ordinary. His wispy black hair just barely covers the bald spot at the top of his head, and a graying mustache embellishes the skin above his lips.
Perhaps he’s rich.
Human women do prefer wealthy older men. We see a lot of them at this hotel, in this very suite, drawn to the Bridgemont’s new reputation for luxury and discretion.
The bride makes an annoyed groan as she tries in vain to twist the corkscrew. “This blasted thing won’t…budge…”
“Here, let me.” The groom takes it from her hands, pops the cork, and pours them each a glass. “Here’s to the happiest day of my life, and soon to be the hottest night of my life with my brand new wifey.”
“I’ll drink to that.” The bride takes a long sip.
Her throat bobs, and lust shoots through me, cascading straight to my groin. My teeth ache to sink themselves into the smooth column of her neck.
“I can’t wait to find out what sexy little thing you’re wearing underneath that dress,” the groom purrs suggestively as he tugs her close.
“Why don’t you come here and find out.” She wiggles away and moves toward the bed, tipping her head back to down the rest of her glass.
From my hiding place, I admire the exquisite curve of her breasts straining against the bodice of her dress.
The groom knocks back his own glass in one gulp and closes the gap between them, grabbing her hips and shoving her back on the bed.
