AN: Hello, wonderful people!

 I have come with a long long chapter of 99% fluff for you! Hope this chapter heals whatever wounds my muse left from the previous update. :( 

If not, you guys can always check the mature version of this chapter (which will be in the book 'Her Cursed Monster|18+ chapters' ) and that will surely put a smile on your face. I'll just say it will be good! :D hehehe

Beautiful summering, guys!

Your Fearsome Hamster

P.S. My longest chapter so far! Woo-Hoo

Zachary woke with a jolt, his hand instantly reaching for his mate. His fingers were trembling when they touched her skin. She was there, next to him, safe in their bed. Thank the gods. It must have been a nightmare then. Sweat still dripped over his skin and the horror of his dream washed over him.

In his vision, he had arrived too late. In his vision, he had successfully wrenched her out of the deadly embrace of the river, only for her to die in arms.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. She breathed softly, unaware of the lethal predator following her each breath. He watched her chest rise and fall, comforted by its rhythm. He shifted closer to her and closed his eyes. With her so much closer, he could finally relax.

The silence of the night was disturbed when a whimper escaped his mate. He raised his head, curious. It was too early for her to stir. The sunrise was still hours away. Was she also having her nightmare? If so, he would wake her up and soothe her worries.

Uncertain, he moved soundlessly closer. He waited, watching her body shift in the sheets.

Another low moan was heard. Just then, a lovely subtly aroma wafted in the air. Ah, Margo's dream was arousing her. He grinned and felt himself respond. His blood was affecting her after all. Its main purpose was to heal her injuries, but it also possessed certain attributes which he had failed to inform her of. He may find his redemption with her, but in many ways he was still a monster.

A glint entered his glowing eyes as he ordered his fangs to stay retracted.

Claim her now!

He ignored his beast's compulsion, not wanting to take her in such a fragile state. With sure fingers, he pulled at the covers, revealing her body to him. She was wearing a lovely lavender dress. One she had sleepily put on when he had suggested she sleep naked beside him. She laughed, thought he had been jesting. He had not. 

A soft kiss, laid on her bare ankle, had Margo moaning softly again. Her toes were so small and and he could not resist playfully biting one. Moving up, his lips followed the line of her left calf while ghost fingers trailed caressed her knees, willing her legs to open.

Her arousal was stronger now, her breathing increased.

He could not wait any longer. He was dying for a taste. 

"Zacha–ary," she moaned, a sweet melody to his ears. Her dreams were about him. A snarl escaped his lips.

As they should be. He was the only man in her life who would make her feel like this, who could make her sing his name in pleasure. The only one.  He was already a slave to her touch, now he would make her his. 

Her first time would be slow and gentle, but once her body was accustomed to his, once he made her curious of the carnal ways of fated mates...he would steal her away, somewhere safe far, far away from all beings and sate his insatiable need of her. She would be only his then – his beast would love that undivided attention from his mate. He might never own her precious heart, but her body, her body will be his in every way. It was his only consolation for when his own heart would long for her love.

.........................

Light kissed her eyelids, waking her up. She blinked open one sleepy eye. Morning had come too soon. Margo softly groaned, tucking herself deeper into the warmth enveloping her. Surely, a close encounter with death mere hours before allowed her the leniency to have a lazy day. Or more truthfully said, a midnight tryst allowed one the liberty to sleep in.

Pulling the blanket closer, she moved to change her position, but found her limbs immobilised. She tried to nudge her legs again, only to discover that underneath the quilt, two well muscled male calfs entwined around her own.

Her gaze travelled up appreciatively. 

Heavy pale arms were wrapped around her form, encircling her waist and pressing her snugly against her husband's body. She ordered her mind not to ponder too much on what was currently snuggled against her bottom. Although, it was quite insistent not to be ignored. Moreover, sometime during the night one of his hands seemed to have migrated from its innocent position on her waist, to currently clutching one of her breasts like a well-sought prize, the night dress she had pulled on last night the only barrier between them. After their intense...session, she distinctly remembered them falling asleep like two shy teenagers, only holding their hands. She held her breath while her imagination fired up all kinds of promising suggestions regarding her problem, specifically the one pressed to her buttocks. Margo blamed it all on the books she read. And Zachary's blood, she suspected.

Drinking from him on their wedding night had seemed to ignite something in her. Or better said, stoke the fire already there.

Trying to pry open the fingers touching her soon proved to be a fail. They only tightened imperceptibly. Suddenly, she stilled all attempts to escape when Zachary inhaled soundly behind her.

"Margo," he murmured softly, burying his face in her hair and curling himself tighter against her body. His steady breaths tickled the nape of her neck. To her mortification, a giggle escaped her lips.

Hardly had she stopped laughing when her world shifted abruptly. Turned on her back, a scowling vampire smothering her while his eyes investigated every corner of their chambers. The frightening impression of sharp fangs peeking through his mouth was counterbalanced by the unruly locks of hair sticking out his head in every possible direction. The sight of him brightened her day.

Margo giggled again, not able to help herself. Incredulous eyes snapped back to her.

"It was you?" Zachary grumbled, easing his weight off of her.

"I can see somebody is not a morning person." Her own lightheartedness took her by surprise. After recent events, it was such an odd, but nevertheless welcome feeling.

He raised one eyebrow and dipped low, trailing his fangs on her neck. "My love, as I recall, your book had stated vampires are fearsome creatures of the night. I have to live up to the expectations." Expecting a bite, she shivered when his lips made contact in an open-mouthed kiss instead. "Also, should I remind you that we were not exactly sleeping throughout the entirety of the night," she felt his smirk on her bare throat.

Margo closed her eyelids in bliss. "Zachary, if you're thirsty...," she ran her fingers though his hair "you can always...," her neck arched invitingly. He had only once drunk from her weeks ago, and that encounter had borne no resemblance to the horrific descriptions she had read about in Mr Fredor's library. Remembering, she still shivered because of it, for decidedly different reasons. Their scorching midnight rendez-vous was forefront on her mind. He had always taken care of her, she wanted to do the same for him.

The vampire raised both of them upright on the bed. Again, she was placed in his lap. "A mate's blood is sacred. The next time I shall taste yours, we shall be sealing our bond," his eyes were devouring her. It did not take long to figure out what sealing the bond meant.

In a small voice, Margo whispered. "We could complete it now." Her fingers traced his proudly arched eyebrows. Intimacy was something she desire to share with the man she loved. If only she could find the courage to also confess her feelings for him so easily.

Zachary growled loudly, his pupils dilating. He caressed the dark circles that were probably staining underneath her eyes. "You are still recovering. Do not tempt the beast, little one." The wicked man leaned in and whispered hotly in her ear. "Your sweet taste still lingers."

Dear Heavens.

How was she supposed to react to those words? With a blush, she realised she oddly liked what she was hearing. Indeed, her body was still weak, but the heat in her was certainly not.

Despite the slight disappointment, she decided to concede to him this one time. Knowing Zachary, he would not be moved on the matter.

"Apologies, my husband," she coyly replied while a hand combed through his head. "It is quite challenging to take your words seriously when faced with hair in such disarrayed state." She playfully tugged a dark lock, earning another growl from him.

In an instant, her teasing was cut short when Zachary slid his fingers behind her neck and tickled the sensitive skin there. "Is my mate taunting me?" A steel strong grip around her waist stopped her from running away from the torment. She continued to laugh, tears starting to appear. "Z-Zachary. "

His fingers continued their merciless assault. The vampire was happy seeing his mate squirm in his arms while her delightful giggles filled the air. "Z-Zachary, p-please." Margo shifted her bottom distractingly on his lap. He felt himself tighten more – apparently, his own plan had backfired on him. He suddenly ceased his playing, even though his beast yearned to continue.

"You are a cruel, cruel man," Margo breathed out, closing her eyes. The lavender nightdress had slightly slipped off her shoulders, giving him a delicious view of the top of her creamy décolletage. An entracing blush was painting her heaving body in shades of pink. She was a feast, laid out to his starving eyes.

Nearly losing her had brought the beast closer to surface. His instincts were stretched thin, demanding in their intensity. It reminded him of the olden days when his survival depended solely on relinquishing his sanity and letting his beast take over. Many a terrible deed had been done to him back then. But for every scratch he received, he paid back triple in bones and blood. The Dark Mages had only created a monster when they placed the curse upon him.

He absentmindedly played with a stray lock on Margo's forehead. She smiled warmly and the sight of her guided him away from his dark memories. Only her smile and his blood still running through her veins offered him a measure of calm. The vampire knew if he dared to indulge more, he would not be capable of stopping until he fully claimed his mate.

He licked his lips, recalling how responsive she had been last night.

He averted his gaze from her enticing form, knowing full well he had done this to himself. Their mating would happen, but only after he assured himself she had recovered from her ordeal.

As if saved by the gods, Margo's stomach made its demands known then, its growl making her hands go around her torso trying to smother the sound. She groaned, turning red.

His mate had such adorable reactions.

"I shall go bring you something," he gave her a quick penetrating kiss and exited the room swiftly before she could object. She was too much of a temptation.

Margo stared after him, only recovering too late to shriek after him. "Zachary, but you are still naked!"

...............................

After washing herself in the water basin, combing some sense into her wild hair – she had cringed when she had seen herself in the mirror, remembering her teasing of poor Zachary when her own hair was a mess – and putting on the short-sleeved green dress she had picked for the day, Margo finally left their shared chambers. An inner voice chastised her for the time she had spent preparing herself; it was not in her habits to do so, yet she found she wanted Zachary to find her appearance pleasing.

And why is that Margo?, her heart quipped.

She already knew why. The answer was on the tip of her tongue ever since Zachary saved her out of that damned frozen river. And if she looked really deep down, feelings have been blossoming much earlier, when she discovered that the beast in the cemetery and the man she married were one and the same.

A few wrong turns later, she was happy to finally find her way to the main staircase. Now, she knew without a doubt. Zachary's manor was definitely as big as his ego at times.

She stopped on her way to the dining hall when the jarring sound of pots crashing and smashing in the kitchen interrupted the matinal peace. Angry growls coming from the same direction were what made her quicken her steps towards the commotion.

What she found in the kitchens had her mouth hanging open in a purely unlady-like fashion.

An apron wearing Zachary, covered from head to toes in flour, was threateningly holding a very burnt biscuit while glaring daggers at whom she assumed to be the head-chef of the manor. The said man pursed his lips, his throat gulping nervously while obviously weighing his chances of survival should he refuse the food.

"François, this is the last time I shall repeat myself. My wife is growing hungry. You need to taste this...," her husband faltered, his eyes skimming over an opened recipe book on the counter, "this ginger biscuit and answer whether she will find it satisfactory."

François tugged at his very thin moustache, sweat dripping from the middle-aged man's temples. "Master, you have hired me from the most prestigious restaurants, let me honour my duty and be the one to take care of the food for Mistress," the chef diplomatically explained while dodging another attempt of Zachary's to sample his questionable creation.

Upon hearing these words, Margo could see her husband's amethyst eyes darken. Wrong move, François. A menacing growl filled the kitchen. "No, I shall be the sole provider for my Margo today." Getting a hold of his temper, the vampire proudly waved towards a crystal bowl resting safely on the table across the counter, away from his swaying moods. "I have already sliced fruits rich in vitamin, so she can have a balanced meal." The manner in which he said this was dripping with satisfaction, as if he had created a culinary masterpiece.

Reinventing the wheel, are we my husband? Margo rolled her eyes indulgently, keeping her presence hidden. She had to witness this amusing spectacle.

"Of course, Master," the chef nodded energetically, while subtly inching away in the direction of the entrance. "Master, I do have to confess though that black is ... a bit of an unusual colour for pastries," François sweetly added while taking another step backwards. Ever the predator, Zachary halted François' attempt to escape by positioning his larger frame at the open door.

Her breath hitched at his proximity. The stifling smoke still wafting out of the oven was perhaps why her husband had not scented her yet. She was just feet away.

"François, no more stalling," Zachary growled, thrusting the burnt biscuit in the chef's face . With a resounding sigh of resignation, as deep as one's forced to fight in the first lines of war, Francois plucked the biscuit from her husband's hand, gave the burnt piece of food a cursory glance and courageously bit.

A brief look of horror crossed the man's face, before a forced smile appeared in its place. "Master, do you recall when I left you unsupervised in the kitchen to fetch some tea leaves for the Mistress?"

"I forget nothing," the vampire snapped, tapping his leather shoe. "Now I demand your verdict."

"It seems you have put quite your own twist on the recipe of ginger biscuits, Master. Instead of sugar, you must have added salt," gulping down another mouthful of water, the chef choked out "v-very original." The wide smile was in contradiction to the chef's teary eyes.

Zachary dismissively moved his hand in the air. "Those two look identical." An appeased, almost giddy light entered Zachary's gaze. "My wife shall enjoy the ginger bread I have cooked for her then?"

François shuffled his feet, at a loss for words. "Erm..."

Margo stepped into the kitchens then, deciding to spare the distraught head-chef. "I have not known my husband is talented in the kitchen," she laughed, coming behind Zachary and wrapping her arms loosely around his broad back while untying his apron. His body tensed, probably taken aback by her public display of affection. He recovered swiftly, bringing her in front of him and kissing the top of her head delicately. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the cook breathe out a sigh of relief while bowing for her.

"You should be resting, my love."

"Thank you, but I am alright now. What have you prepared here?" she inched closer to the hot tray of charred biscuits resting on the counter, feigning her appetite.

"Ginger biscuits," he proclaimed proudly. "François, arrange some on a plate for your Mistress and bring it along with the fruit salad and herbal tea to the dining room."

"Please," Margo hurriedly supplied, peering at the wary cook and shaking her head at Zachary's antics – apparently manners were not a common trait among vampires. At least not when it did not serve them.

Feeling his mate's gentle scolding, Zachary awkwardly petted his head-chef on the shoulder. He then grumpily added. "Because I find myself in good spirits today, you are free to help yourself to some ginger biscuits, François."

François recoiled at the words, throwing the burnt pastries a look of utter disgust. Thankfully, only Margo noticed it. "Let us break our fast, Zachary. And give back to François his reign over the kitchens."

"Thank you, Mistress," the head-chef bowed deeply. In that moment, the white collar of his uniform dipped slightly, offering the young woman a glance of the head-chef's throat. Right below his hairline, a black tattoo, similar to the one she had seen on Uncle Ray in her dream.

The hairs of her neck stood up.

Still in shock of her discovery, she let herself be led away by Zachary. He found them a bright enclosed balcony through which they could admire the huge white gardens of his manor. Her husband pulled the chair for her and once seated, arranged in front of her the fruit salad, as well as the the so-called 'ginger biscuits'.

She smiled politely when he sat himself right next to her. He frowned, seeing right through her composed facade.

"What is wrong?" his eyes were beginning to glow.

Bluntness would probably serve her best right now. She had to get this over it, so she could enjoy the time with him without remorse. Her hand settled on his over the table, calming him down.

"Zachary, your head-chef bore a very similar mark to the one shown to me in my nightmare. The one you branded Uncle Ray with."

Zachary continued to watch her, his face impossible to read. "Please, tell me the truth. I want no more secrets between us," she must have said something right, for a burning emotion, almost like hope reflected in his gaze before he could mask it.

With both hands he sandwiched the one she had extended towards him. "It's called the vampire's slave mark." Put off, she tried to jerk back her arm. He did not allow it. "It sounds worse than it is, I promise you, my love," his voice took on a pleading tone.

"Alright."

"In my world, honest attendants are hard to come by, even harder are the loyal ones. Those few ones need to be protected. You have to understand that supernatural races, especially vampires, tend to be extremely violent among each other. Our servants are usually human beings, and given how fragile your race is, they would not survive long as part of our lives. That is why vampires have developed the power to help those they deemed worthy of this service. In exchange for their loyalty and the associate life style, the one bearing the vampire's slave mark has an extended life span and can heal faster from the common diseases that come with being human."

She hummed in understanding, choosing not to acknowledge the veiled arrogance her vampire showed when talking of her race. Although, she had to voice her other concerns .

"Zachary, I do have to ask though. This entire affair sounds a bit too good to be true for the human counterpart. I feel that I have come to have a slight understanding regarding vampires and I do not reckon members of your kind would make any association without knowing they are always, foremost, the winning party by far." She leaned in towards him, telling herself to stop peering at his plump lips so much and state her case. 

"So tell me, what is it you're hiding from me regarding this slave mark?"

Zachary gulped nervously, his gaze also staring at her lips with avid interest. "The vampire might be able to detect his slave's position at all times and the marked human might be more prone to the mind compulsion."

Ah, now it made sense.

"I see. Uncle Ray had his suspicions about you, so you decided to make him your slave, so he would not reveal your true identity to me," images of her poor old friend trying to warn her flashed to her mind. He was not mad. Not at all. Uncle Ray had a gift and she had treated him just like all the other villagers in that.

She took back her hand. A look of hurt crossed her husband's face.

"I was scared, Margo. I was so scared he would take you away from me. All the stakes were already against me, I could not risk losing you." The more he talked, the more evident his growing distress appeared. His fangs had dropped, though there were no physical enemies he could slay this time and win. 

"Forgive me," he whispered.

Looking into his otherwordly amethyst eyes, she realised she could not hold a grudge against him. She had come to love this vampire, to understand him and his driving motives in life. No matter how twisted he was in certain ways, how monstrous his sins were, there would always be a flash of kindness that reminded her he was capable of as many good deeds.

Margo wrapped her arms tightly around him. "I forgive you." After a moment, she felt him reciprocate, pulling her in seat, her green skirts all over the armchair. He peppered kissed on her forehead. "I promise you he is safe. I shall bring you to your friend as soon as the snow storms stop and you are feeling better."

She smiled against his coat. "Also, thank you for preparing breakfast, husband" a soft kiss landed on his chin. The grin he displayed, vampiric fangs and all, had her contemplating his soft lips again.

"Let us start with the ginger biscuits first then," he exclaimed picking a biscuit and pushing it towards her mouth.

Gods, how did Francois manage to smile eating this?