“There,” he says, his fingers delicately tracing the ornate silver necklace he’s just fastened around your neck, rubies kissing your skin like shining droplets of blood.

Lord Astarion Ancunin’s eyes rove over your reflection in the gilded mirror, taking in your perfectly coifed hair and your elegant attire, his chest pressed against your back.

He leans into you, his lips ghosting along the sensitive skin of your neck as he whispers, “You’re exquisite, my treasure.”

He moves around your body to face you, surprising you as he pulls you into a feverish kiss, his tongue parting your lips, his fingers in your hair. And then, just as suddenly, he draws back, your bottom lip catching on his fangs, a bead of blood bubbling to the surface.

He steps back admiring you once more, licking your blood off of his full lips.

“Are you ready, my sweet? To take our vows before Baldur’s Gate and our friends?” He quirks a brow gesturing to the door that leads to where your wedding will take place in just a few moments. “And then, tonight, I will make you my spawn, my consort, mine forever…” he grins, taking your trembling hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You study his handsome face, searching for the man you fell in love with but not finding him there. You see only the domineering, sadistic, possessive vampire lord he’s become since you helped him perform the Rite of Profane Ascension only a few months ago. Are you making a mistake?

“Don’t tell me you’re getting ‘cold feet?’” He quirks a brow.