Praise for Michele Hauf
“Cleverly engrossing dialogue, overwhelming desire
and intriguing paranormal situations are skillfully
combined to make this an irresistible read.”
—Cataromance.com on Moon Kissed
“A novel twist on a vampire tale…Hauf mixes well-developed
characters and sparkling dialogue with a
paranormal tale and comes out with a winner.”
—RT Book Reviews
“With dangerous encounters, a myriad of
paranormal beings and even some subtle humor,
The Highwayman is an enchanting love story packed with riveting adventures.” —Cataromance.com on The Highwayman
“In this action-packed delight, Hauf’s humorous
writing and well-developed characters combine for a
realistic story—in spite of its supernatural basis.”
—RT Book Reviews
Her Vampire Husband
Michele Hauf
About the Author
A Minnesota native, MICHELE HAUF lives in a Minneapolis suburb with her family. She enjoys being a stay-at-home mom with a son and a daughter. Michele writes the kind of stories she loves to read, filled with romance, fantasy and adventure. Always a storyteller, she began to write in the early nineties and hasn’t stopped since. Playing guitar, hunting backyard butterflies and coloring (yes, coloring) keep her creativity honed. Research for her Mills & Boon® novels has yet to see her stealing jewels or racing cars on a high-speed chase, but…she can pick a lock or bake a mean chocolate cheesecake (with a file inside) if duty calls. You can contact Michele at: PO Box 23, Anoka, MN 55303.
To Jeff: Because I know you would slay a dragon for me.
You are the only knight I will ever desire. Love you.
But really? Because that dragon carcass in the front yard could
get just nasty, not to mention you’d always complain about having
to mow around the tail. And do you think I’d let you hang the
dragon’s head on the living room wall? I don’t think so. Though
we could have a grand backyard BBQ. And just think of the
money we’d save on the grocery bill, not to mention our
new dragon leather attire.
Dear Reader,
I fall in love with all my heroes and heroines. I don’t think a book would work if I did not. But in the case of Her Vampire Husband, I fell so madly in love with Creed and Blu that I wanted to hug them and squeeze them and kiss them and take them home and call them George. This couple is absolutely my favorite fictional couple so far. I wish I could go visit them and see what they’re up to now that I’ve put them through hell and brought them back again. I bet they’re languishing somewhere in Paris, wrapped in a snuggly embrace, unconcerned for the world save each other.
This story is actually the third in my WICKED GAMES series. Each of the books stands alone (you don’t have to read one to understand the other), but if you are interested, look for The Highwayman and Moon Kissed, too!
For a complete listing of my books, and to learn of future releases, stop by my website, michelehauf.com, or my blog, www. dustedbywhimsy.blogspot.com. Or you can follow me on Twitter, twitter.com/michelehauf.
Michele
Chapter One
“I WOULD RATHER BE home dyeing my hair.”
Blu Masterson peeked between the heavy red curtains that stretched two stories high. She searched for her groom, but no particular man stood out amongst the huge crowd on the first-floor atrium of the Landmark Center. The room was ninety-percent male. The few females were vampires.
She saw that the room’s inhabitants had divided, as if magnetic filings to opposite poles—vampires to the right, werewolves to the left.
The dais toward the back of the ballroom had been decorated with a ridiculous white pergola tucked with red roses, and a string quartet played an adagio entirely too upbeat for her heavy heart at this, her wedding.
“But your hair is such a pretty color tonight.” Blu’s best friend, Sabrina Kriss, smooshed her friend’s thick bob with both hands and delivered her a glitter-frosted wink. “You’re just nervous.”
“Nervous? Is that what you call it? I’m marrying a freaking vampire, Bree. A vampire I’ve never met. A vampire I’ve been told is nine hundred years old. And in case you still missed the point—he’s a vampire.”
Bree rolled her violet eyes. She was sidhe, so did not relate to Blu’s ingrained disgust for vampires. Faeries got along with pretty much all the various paranormal nations. Werewolves did not.
As far as Blu was concerned, vampires were vile, blood-hungry creatures. They flaunted aristocratic snobbery that manifested as entitlement, and were possessed of an inhumane fixation on mortal man. They needed mortals for survival, while the species wasn’t worth her time.
Bree asked gaily, “What do you think Ryan—”
“Don’t say his name. Please, Bree. It’ll only make the night more difficult to get through.”
Blu bowed her head and wandered to the window. Tugging aside the curtain, she looked over the dark street outside.
She’d agreed to this idiotic farce of an arranged marriage to appease her father and pack leader, Amandus Masterson. “To show the werewolf nation we are capable of putting aside our differences and embracing the vampire nation,” Amandus had proclaimed, but not without a wink.
Yeah, but he wasn’t the one being forced to marry a vampire.
And it was force.
When presented with the marriage proposal, Blu had staunchly refused. For weeks. She was a princess; no one told her what to do. That argument held little weight within her father’s pack. Blu hated all the Northern pack members. The only one she could tolerate was Ridge, her father’s right-hand man.
And Ryan.
Don’t think of him.
After the engagement had been inflicted, Blu had pleaded and pouted and even went on a hunger strike for two days, but she did love to eat, and self-denial was not her strong suit.
How she wished her mother was still around. Someone to stand on her side. Someone Blu could tuck her head against and sniffle out a few tears to. At the very least, someone who would nod encouragingly as Blu walked down the aisle tonight.
The door opened and a man poked his head inside the room. Blu stiffened and clasped her fingers together.
“There you are.” Amandus Masterson crossed the room to her. The standard proud-father smile was absent from his long, drawn face. Blu would have been surprised had he shown her any sign of pride. He inspected her hair. “What is that ghastly color?”
She looked down, eyeing Bree surreptitiously. The faery had retreated to the wall, arms across her chest and eyes seeking anything but Amandus.
“I should have expected nothing better,” he said grumpily. “Why must you always challenge me,