Page 83 of Death Dance

To make certain I kept Emerick’s attention, I’d been a tyrant of the highest order, removing every scrap of leather and lace from our penthouse and sending them over to my ship a week ago. Then, as I wanted him hungry and ready to show me a good time, I’d concocted over a hundred reasons why we had to delay any form of intimacy.

He’d clued in to my gamble three days in, and to my amusement, he’d started counting unique excuses.

“You’re going to get yourself into more trouble than you can get yourself out of, Mrs. Lowrance,” he warned.

“And I will do so with a smile plastered on my face. Now, get ready. I’m just glad my family decided they didn’t have to give you your dowry on the ship, but we have to drive an hour—in a vehicle that’s part of the dowry!”

I had no idea what the new vehicle was, nor did Emerick, but it would be waiting outside in twenty minutes for us to begin the festivities.

“Remember, your great uncles got together and got you a vehicle. You spent the day before yesterday flinging yourself at it, rubbing all over it like the cat you are, and doing your best to purr. You cried because you weren’t supposed to like it more than your Toyota, your Beetle, or your Jaguar, yet there you were, crying because you liked it more.”

There was another reason I had cried, a reason I’d very carefully hidden from my spouse, as it had involved a testy experiment my father had helped oversee in an effort to help underdeveloped vampires mature. As I had zero tolerance to lactose when my vampiric nature was roused, I made the perfect test subject. Testing if bottled bloods in high quantity could be used to control the predatory nature of vampirism had worked a little too well.

If all continued to go well, in six months, Emerick and I would be welcoming two little ones into the world.

Under normal circumstances, female vampires terminated any possible pregnancies before they had a chance to truly start, failing to establish critical blood supply to the developing fetus. In most cases, the egg failed to attach to the uterus wall.

Part of my gambit involved keeping Emerick’s teeth off my person, as we had no idea if any bites would undo our accidental success.

After having made it through the first trimester, I had zero interests in taking any risks.

Thanks to my father, I was able to hide I was consuming far more blood than normal, allowing my human biological processes to resume. I could even eat cheese without worry, although I would be keeping that dirty little secret to myself until later in the evening.

I faked a sniffle and lifted my chin. “She’s a purple Mercedes, and she’s what happens when you take a family car and make her extra fancy.”

Unbeknownst to Emerick, there was also a purple SUV, also a Mercedes, for when we would need to haul the pint-sized terrors anywhere they wished, be it sporting events, camping, and so on. Also unbeknownst to Emerick, I endured weekly ultrasounds and other testing to make certain there was nothing wrong with the babies, both of which were girls.

Thus far, they were fine, and there was no evidence of the deformity that had claimed my life so shortly after birth.

I refused to question how we’d gotten twin girls out of the gate, but I would enjoy informing my husband why I would not be enjoying any of the wine or tequila to go with our festivities once on board the ship. I’d learned enough Spanish to talk to those at the casa, informing them of why I couldn’t drink their prized mezcal for a while yet, although I’d appreciate a gift of a pretty bottle in the meantime.

I suspected things would get out of hand once the girls were born, as a trip to the casa to introduce the infants to the families there would be necessary.

I wanted them all to understand vampirism wasn’t the end of their journey but the beginning of it—and their journey could be filled with light, laughter, and the patter of little feet should they want it badly enough.

I neglected to inform them we would be having girls, although I had warned them we would be doing our best to keep two babies alive. My father had his speculations, and he suspected I used some form of magic on my spouse to get the result I wanted, which was entire herds of little girls.

In that, I was like every other vampire in existence.

I’d been exposed to a great deal of magic in the Amazon, and life and death were opposite faces of the same coin. If his guess proved to be correct, I’d become a magnet for the life energy the necromantic forces had smothered, resulting in that magic taking advantage of the first opportunity available once the conditions for a successful pregnancy had been met.

He believed that same magic would make certain the little girls would make it into the world alive and well. I would worry about predisposition until they were old enough to be turned—if they needed to be turned—but some things we would not know until after we welcomed them into the world.

My father had taken care of contacting Japan, informing them of our experiment, and requesting the specialty blood I needed, as neither of us had expected the idea to work. In exchange for a promise to help one of their couples through attempting the experiment a second time, he’d procured the entire supply for free.

Until the girls showed up, I would be drinking the highest grade Wagyu fully sourced from younger cows, either heifers or below the age of five. The ones that weren’t heifers were pregnant, and my father had purchased those cows—and their calves—outright in case my requirement for blood harmed the mothers or babies.

Thus far, everyone seemed fine, especially as I only required a pint of the hormone-rich blood once a week and we used a herd of thirty cows to acquire it.

Once the calves were born and ready to be weaned, the entire herd would be coming to America to become pets, where they’d live their lives until it was time for them to serve their next purpose when they were old, worn, and unable to sustain a good quality of life. We would trade the best of the calves back to the Japanese in exchange for another supply of blood to help Edgar as he aged.

The trick was hiding the ridiculous quantity of blood I consumed, treating it like most did water. I still needed water and regular meals, too, which ensured I was constantly drinking or nibbling something to keep my body from turning on the precious babies I carried.

Drinking five bottles of Wagyu a day at a minimum with an additional forty ounces of regular water tested my patience. Worse, due to the touchy nature of my situation, I’d made the difficult decision to abandon my coffee drinking ways altogether.

I realized I’d stared out into space and sighed at my antics. “I’m woolgathering again!”

“We’re getting married properly tonight. You’re allowed to woolgather.” Emerick regarded me with a less than impressed expression, and he heaved a sigh. “However, your Mercedes being nice is no reason to cry.”