AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Finally! The long-awaited rewrite of my most popular Pokémon fanfic has arrived!
You don't need to read The Vampire's Bride to enjoy this tale because this novel has a new plot and new characters. But if you have read The Vampire's Bride, first off, THANK YOU for your support! That story is one of my firsts on the site and had been getting consistent traffic since. Second, you'll see bits of details from the original story in this novel, so pat yourself on the back when you get the references.
If you're new to my stories, I'd like to give you a big warm hug hello and welcome! I've been writing since I learned how to read and constantly improving since. Please let me know what you think of my content! I'd love to know how it looks to new readers.
But whether you're a loyal fan or someone who's recently taken interest in my work, I want you to know that all of my stories are made with love, so I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them. The Vampire's Wife has been through a lot of rewrites and revisions and even a beta reader to check on it for you. Let me know what you like and don't like, so I know how to make future books even better. I don't have an editor yet, so your input helps a lot.
Now for the disclaimers!
I obviously don't own May, Drew, Max, or any other properties belonging to Pokémon. I do own everything else—the story, the lyrics you'll read, etc. Maybe I'll make this novel into a completely original book like 50 Shades of Gray. We'll see.
This story is fictional. Names, places, events, etc. similar to the real world are completely coincidental. Also, don't try any of the stuff you see in this book in real life! Read this for entertainment purposes only.
Please note that this story contains profanity, violence, BDSM themes, and–because it's a dark romance–morally-gray characters that will make you feel a little guilty for rooting for them. If that's not your cup of tea, then kindly click away. But if you're willing to give it a taste, then please proceed.
Have fun!
CHAPTER 1: Nice to Meet You
Thank goodness for the champagne. I don't think I can get through this gala without it.
I know I've been anticipating it. I've planned it for weeks with the board. But that doesn't change how nervous I am to meet who will be the biggest investor I can recruit. If I can get him to invest in Allistar, then there's nothing my organization can't accomplish. His money will bring even more money, and money will lead to change.
And god knows how much change needs to happen around here.
If there's a fun way to raise money, it's this. Lillian Paige, the same designer who made my parents' vow renewal feel like a fairytale, and I have decided to hold not just a charity gala but a masquerade ball in a winter wonderland. All the guests and staff are in lavish clothing and ornate masks. There's less focus on who's rich and who's poor and more on each individual's personality—unless you're a stickler for quality and design. Then it will be pretty obvious who can afford the finest silk and lace and who can get creative with a nearby thrift shop.
But the main point of tonight's theme is to focus less on someone's social standing and more on that person's character. There are so many kind, generous, and hardworking citizens in Isle Kingdom who need better housing, food, healthcare, and more. Someone shouldn't have to be rich to have those things. Alas, we live in a world run by money. Those who have more of it can enjoy the finer things in life, whereas those with less will have to settle for the scraps.
That's where I come in.
The Allistar Foundation is my baby. I've created it to help those in impoverished neighborhoods get the lives they deserve. Gaining the support of the royal court had been impossible at the start due to their hatred for the middle and lower class, but my twenty-three-year-old self didn't give up. I've invested my own money, did my research, and gained more investments from my brother and my friends to build Allistar from the ground up.
Now, I'm twenty-seven, and Allistar is a success. In the four years we've been around, we've installed parks, arranged recreational activities for the youth, renovated buildings to have new paint and better security measures, and more. There's still a lot to be done, sure, but this many accomplishments in four years are still a fucking lot! Who knows what we can accomplish in five, ten, or even twenty years? Allistar is going to live forever, so I can't slack off tonight.
I surrender my empty champagne flute to a passing waiter before grabbing a glass of water. I have to stay hydrated and moderately sober. If I talk to my guest of honor tonight smelling like a dive bar, I'll never get his money nor his respect. One glass of champagne won't get me that hammered, but there's a lot at stake, and I'm on edge. It's better to be safe than sorry. One failure is enough to ruin not just Allistar's future, but the futures of the lives I'm helping. I can't let that happen.
After mingling with a few guests, I slip into a private bathroom and pull off my sparkling, ruby mask. It's eight o'clock at night, so the gala has been going on for two hours. I straighten out wrinkles on my gown. Then, for reinforcements, I palm my breasts until my cleavage sticks out. My hourglass figure usually attracts unwanted attention, but tonight, the attention is very much wanted. My potential investor may be into women, so that may increase my chances of getting his help. And if he somehow doesn't find Allistar worth investing in, then I can try to convince others to take his place. Any funds are appreciated. With my goals for Isle, I'll need all the money I can get.
I comb my curled brown hair until it's flowing on my left shoulder and touch up my eyeshadow so my blue eyes pop. After a spritz of perfume, I emerge from the bathroom and get back to the party. Strings of white dots hang from the ceiling, simulating snow. White cloths on furniture and blue lanterns next to the food emulate a snowy night. Paige really has outdone herself tonight. If this investor doesn't show up, he'll be missing out.
At this time, most attendees have finished their meals and are mingling with those outside their round tables. I nibble on chocolate-covered strawberries and watch them talk. The rich and the poor used to keep amongst their own with the rich being with the rich, and the poor with the poor. But these days, they speak and laugh together regardless of the money in their pockets. If that's not progress, I don't know what is.
"Enjoying tonight's festivities?"
I smile at the person addressing me and then freeze. Even with a mask, the man is gorgeous. His head is a full one above mine, his green hair is trimmed and luscious, and his emerald eyes pierce me through his black, diamond-studded mask. There are hints of tangerine and sandalwood in his cologne, and his rugged rumble reminds me of an active volcano.
He's the sexiest man I've ever met—the walking symbol of fire.
"Definitely," I clear my throat. "Good evening! I hope you're enjoying your time here."
"I've just arrived but I appreciate the entertainment," the man glances at the string orchestra in front of the stage. "Do you know where the song they're playing comes from?"
"I don't, but it sounds lovely." It sounds boring, actually; but this is a guest—a very sexy guest—and he likes it, so I'll be polite.
"This aria comes from a play called Searching for Moonlight. It's a tragedy based on a couple who lived underground risking their lives to see the moon in person."
"Why is it a tragedy?"
"If you haven't seen it, I don't want to spoil it for you."
"I don't mind. I don't usually watch plays nor listen to theater music, so you wouldn't be spoiling anything for me."
"I see. Well, their story ends in tragedy because the air above their underground civilization is poisonous, and the couple breathes some of that air and dies. But they do see some moonlight through a crack on a layer of earth, so their goal is accomplished somewhat."
"Wow, that is tragic."
"Do you think it was worth it?"
"Was what worth it?"
"Having a taste of what your heart desires most, even if it kills you."
A foreign guest and a local shelter manager are speaking when I look their way. The guest writes on a notepad while the manager watches eagerly.
"Yes," I answer. "They lived the rest of their lives pursuing what made them happy. It's because they had their journey that their deaths are tragic but not their lives. Not everyone has the courage to pursue their dreams. Not everyone can, even if they did. So those who have what they need and use it should be thankful."
"Aye, that's what this gala is about, isn't it? Making sure everyone can have what they need and be able to use it," the man surveys the attendees. "Allistar has an admirable cause. I'd like to thank its founder for the good work she's done."
"You can thank her now, if you'd like," my hands frame me like a picture. "It's me. I'm the founder of Allistar."
The man steps back, seemingly too graceful to stumble in surprise. "You're the founder? That also means you're the princess of this kingdom."
"That's right! I'm Maybelline Chastain. I'm the founder of Allistar and the princess of Isle."
I say it with pride, but if the man's mask can't hide how attractive he is, it can't hide how alarmed he is either. He looks like he's realizing who he's speaking with and not liking it one bit. Not out of intimidation, as I've seen in some commoners, but out of disgust.
"Is there a problem?"
"Aye," the man shakes his head. "It seems we've both been blind-sighted tonight."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm the investor you've invited tonight. I'm the Vampire King."
