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stake.”
    Grandfather’s eyebrows shot up to his greying hairline. He coughed. “A mortal woman resisted your glamour with a stake?” He leaned over his desk, staring at Juliun. “The strongest vampires in the world do not have the ability to resist royal glamour. How on earth did she manage the feat?”
    “There’s more.” Juliun glided to the open French doors where the pale sliver of moon shone over the cove, but the memories and emotions inside his mind overpowered his physical surroundings to such an extent that his gaze blurred. A trickle of warmth began to feed inside his body, all the way to his heart, that muscle familiar with yearning and loneliness. Maybe it was life, joy. How could he convince the oldest vampire in the world that tonight’s transference was accidental? Prove he hadn’t meant to bite his bride so that he could feed from her forever?
    Longing and total disbelief raged inside him at the idea he’d left her bleeding on the street. But hadn’t his dreams revealed her courage and determination? He’d been warned of the inner strength and fight inside of her—which she would need as his queen.
    How he wished she stood before him now. Maybe he’d try to explain, or rather, he’d wrap his hands around her waist. Then slowly run his hands through her long red hair that smelled of sunlight and kiss her luscious lips. Drown in the taste of her musky skin. He’d waited too long, come too far to back out now.
    Too many years gone. If she drank from another the mist would spread, and the world would be in grave danger. The beast inside of him violently rattled its cage, but he inhaled, riding out a sick dread at odds with his elation at finding her.
    “She stabbed Lars in the neck. I had to ensure he did not kill from thirst. He is too weak and lacks any control. She attacked and held the stake to my heart.” Then pushed it through with all the determination needed to kill. Her reflexes were quick; her thoughts quicker still and clearly set on survival.
    “How did you manage to escape?” The question was asked with a humorous twist, and the sound of a drawer sliding open and books being shuffled followed his grandfather’s question. No one had ever managed to contain a royal.
    Juliun shook his head and gritted his teeth, never minding his incisors ached. Yearned to taste her. “I did not believe it at first. I turned to mist, of course, knocked away her hand, but she punched me in the mouth. My gums bled. She wore a ring, you see, and her skin caught on my teeth.”
    “Pierced?”
    He nodded, then retreated from the French doors and sunk in the chair opposite the dark mahogany desk.
    “Where is she now?”
    “Hospital. The police arrived, and I tracked them down. Alec is on his way.”
    “There was no other course of action?” Grandfather rose from behind the desk. “You are under a sacred oath. The Council will hold a trial.” He studied Juliun. “I am not pleased by this turn of events. You know how sacrosanct the mist is to us. Let me see into your mind.”
    Grandfather floated toward him and then rested his fingers on the back of Juliun’s head. The entire confrontation unfurled with the memory still fresh. Their meeting, her beautiful face so beloved, fierce, and remembered in his dreams. Her complete resistance and stunning willpower. Finally, Grandfather lifted his hands and stepped away. “Ah.”
    “I have run through the events in my mind, wondering how they could be different. I did not turn the edges of my body to mist. The thought did not even occur to me.” Juliun shook his head and stared at the glass of blood on the desk.
    Grandfather’s eyes narrowed, and his fingers tapped the desk. “You failed to mention you found your bride. Or that she found you.” His old face split in a grin so wide, his incisors protruded. He laughed, his grey eyes glittering. “I congratulate you, Grandson. You only waited six-hundred and seventy years. Your father searched for over