Chapter 37

Adam felt sick.

Horribly sick.

He had tried his absolute hardest to imagine himself drinking animal blood during the ceremony. He had not shown his discomfort, his disgust, or his horror. It had been a difficult thing to not show his true feelings about drinking human blood. And by the time he had reached their rooms, he couldn’t hold his nausea back any longer. He didn’t want Willow to see him this way.

Queasiness took hold of him once more, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning over a bucket and retching out his insides. It brought him little comfort that the blood didn’t stay inside him, but he had bigger things to worry about. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected the ceremony to be so…grand. The candles. The dress. The hundreds of vampires in attendance.

He ran his fingers through his hair, his hair damp from his queasy perspiration.

He was married, and he was spending his wedding night vomiting into a bucket.

Although he hadn’t had much sleep in the past few days, he found he couldn’t sleep even if he tried to. Thankfully, the queasiness settled a small fraction, allowing him to pull out his field journal and began sketching some of the beings he had seen earlier still not knowing what they were. He decided to leave the harpy in his memory only, afraid that Willow might be upset if he sketched a naked woman, despite it being for research.

He wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a handkerchief, trying his best not to dry heave into the bucket again. Sketching was a decent distraction—

A knock sounded on the door, making him freeze. But it wasn’t his door. It was the door connecting his room with Willow’s. He was suddenly overcome with embarrassment. He didn’t want her to see him like this. Perhaps he could pretend he was asleep.

“Adam?” she asked through the door. When he didn’t answer immediately, the door rattled as if she had reached for the door handle, followed by a hiss of pain.

He was instantly on his feet. He had forgotten she could only enter with permission.

Despite feeling queasy on his feet, he opened the door to find her cradling her hand. In the dim light, he saw the faintest of red marks.

“Are you all right?” he asked, fighting against the urge to take her hand and soothe the pain away. He suddenly felt painfully timid. If they were, indeed, married, this would be their wedding night.

Nausea rushed through him again, and he leaned against the doorframe until it passed, breathing deeply through his nose.

“I’m more concerned about you at the moment,” she said, entering his room after he invited her in and pushing him into the chair he had been occupying earlier. It helped quite a bit to be sitting. He dabbed at his forehead again with the handkerchief that seemed more damp than dry since he started using it.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, picking up his journal and resuming the sketch. It was easier than looking her in the eye when he probably looked like he was dragged through hell and back. He didn’t mean to seem detached, he was just timid and embarrassed, a horrible combination. Why couldn’t he be more like his warm, friendly brother?

“No. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Me too. Where is Zachariah? I’m worried about him.”

“He’s safe,” she reassured. “I promise no harm will come to him.”

Despite the sincerity in her eyes, it didn’t completely erase his worry. If he wasn’t looking after his brother, then who was? Or was he left to fend for himself in his absence? He wanted to check on him, but his queasiness held him back.

She touched his hand and heat sparking up his arm. A flush crept to his ears, and he continued his sketch, though he didn’t retract his hand. He liked how her touch felt.

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked. “You look ill.”

She took the handkerchief and dabbed at his temple. Again, he relished her touch. For such a strong vampire, she had the gentlest hands.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was the actual blood making him ill, or if it was just the thought that he’d drank it. It felt wrong in many ways. He never wanted to do it again for as long as he lived, and he desperately didn’t want to be a vampire.

He voiced those exact thoughts. “I don’t want to be a vampire, Willow.”

“I know,” she said, and to his surprise, she cradled his hand against her cheek. “And I won’t ask it of you. I will cherish all the time I have with you, even if it’s short for a vampire.”

He swallowed hard, guilt filling him. When he died, she would live on without him, and she wouldn’t want to take another mate. But he couldn’t fathom the idea of being a vampire. Not for her. Not for Zachariah. It was not a decision he would budge on.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, but she shook her head.

“Don’t be.”

She dabbed at his forehead again with the handkerchief, and at that moment, he could envision the rest of his life with her. He didn’t know what it was. A flash. A feeling.

Daggers… She had the gentlest touch.

He opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it again when his mind drew a blank. He nearly cursed his awkwardness, he had no idea what to say to a beautiful woman—err, beautiful vampire female. His wife…

Which brought him back to the reality that this was their wedding night.

This had to be the least romantic wedding day and night he could have ever imagined. Vomiting. Arguing. Asking dumb questions. She was a saint for putting up with this. At any rate, he was ready to fall asleep and get this day over with.

Exhaustion wore him thin, and he barely managed to kick his boots off before falling backward onto the bed. It felt good to relax after such a long day.

He patted the space beside him. After many long days of traveling, he was ready to get a good night’s sleep. “Are you coming or not? If we’re married, we better start acting like it.”

“Mated,” Willow corrected again and giggled as she jumped onto the bed with him, bouncing the entire structure. He couldn’t help himself as he smiled at her enthusiasm, but his smile melted away into surprise as she leaned over him, her red hair cascading down like a scarlet waterfall, and then she kissed him. A passion sparked inside of him, starting from his stomach and traveling upward into his heart, to his lips, and inching toward his fingers. He released a long sigh and tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her closer. Suddenly, he wasn’t tired anymore.

He trailed his fingers down her smooth skin, his timidity evaporating into smoke as the kiss deepened. His hands traveled up her back, feeling the soft fabric of her dress. It took him far too long to unclasp the first button, and as he went for the second, she chuckled.

“There are too many bloody buttons,” he said. “Whose idea was it for you to wear this?”

She laughed again and looked down at him with a playful expression that got his heart all up in tangles. “We have enough time.”

They resumed the kiss, and he couldn’t stop himself as he smiled against her lips and she wholeheartedly returned the gesture. Perhaps their wedding night could be salvaged after all.

Although there was plenty of uncertainty in their future, at least for the moment, everything felt as if it was going to be all right.