Chapter 1.3

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The marriage contract the Council had drawn up stipulated that the alliance was not considered consummated until she had accepted the vampire's bite. It was supposed to be the ultimate bonding in the vampire nation.

If a werewolf wore a vampire's bite, the stigma would be unbearable. Not to mention the wolf would develop a blood hunger it had never  known before.

Blu smirked. "Hell,no. It's all for show, Bree. Don't forget that."
"You won't let me. Hey, will you let me bless you?"
"I'd love it."

Blu closed her eyes as her friend drew her fingers lightly down her cheeks and traced over her shoulders and to her hips. Calm and a tingle of joy infused Blu's pulse. In the wake of Bree's motions, a fine sheen of faery dust glittered onto Blu's flesh.

"Blessed be," Bree said, and kissed Blu on the cheek. "May the stars guide your nights and the sun your days."

"Thanks." For a moment she almost dropped a tear. But it passed quickly. "Now, where's that bouqent? If i'm going to do the bride thing, i intend to be the best damn bride out there."

She grabbed the posy of black roses tied with a long red velvet ribbon. She sniffed, but the flowers offered no perfume. Pity. She had wished for a distraction from the vampire's scent, which she dreaded taking into her senses.

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"YOU FIND OUT which one she is? Shouldn't be too difficult to spot a female werewolf in this crowd," Alexandra said.

"I think they've got her secreted away until the ceremony starts." Claudia Saint-Pierre tugged at her shirtsleeves and traced one diamond cuff link with a finger. She looked over the crowd from her position on the dais. Her best friend and best man, Alexandre Renard, stood at her side. A female wolf should stand out amongst the female vampires, who all, she'd noticed, had decided black was the color for the event.

Interesting how the two nations had divided, keeping to their respective halves of the ballroom as if the aisle of red carpeting were the proverbial line drawn in the sand. While she had led the Nava tribe since the late eighteenth century, and had endured pomp and ceremony of all sorts, Claudia did not care for fussy events. Strategy and the hunt were her mien. And when not serving her tribe members, she was a private person, and chose her pleasures carefully. The very fact she stood upon this dais now represented a three-sixty-degree shift in her thinking.
Whether or not she was actually being true to her nature remained to be seen. That half the crowd milling here in the Landmark Center were werewolves put up her guard. They smelled wild and earthy, and were easily roused with the most innocent of glances.

Claudia was impressed a fight had not broken out yet. But then, only the trusted few had been invited to the ceremony. The Landmark Center had been marked a neutral zone for the evening, but she didn't trust the dogs not to start something. It was so like them. Though she should be more relaxed knowing half the security force were vampires. Because so many wolves were present, the room was overwhelmingly male. With lots of testosterone floating about, anything could happen. Which was why it was necessary for posted sentries outside and along the inner hallways hugging the ballroom. Claudia never let down her defenses.

"All the dogs in the room," Alexandre said over his shoulder, as he scanned the crowd, "gives me that aching hunger feeling, you know?"

Her second in command never turned his back on a werewolf, for painful reasons. It had been less than a year since Claudia had rescued Alexandre from the blood sport.

"I feel like Henri of Navarre on the night of his wedding to the de Médicis bitch," Claudia commented uneasily.

She'd been in Paris in the sixteenth century during that event. Nasty memories.

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