When the daughter of VHA boss Christian Harper, Evelyn Harper is assigned to kill the world's most beloved vampire, she finds herself struggling to follow her father's orders for the first time in her life. How can she stake Elvis Presley in his und...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
「 EVELYN'S POV ; 」
“Mr. and Mrs. Presley, welcome!”
Charlie stood by the stairs that led up into Frank Sinatra’s luxurious looking learjet, engines warmed up and ready to go. My husband’s friend wore a smile from ear to ear as he held out his hand to me, which I gracefully took as I stepped on the first step of the boarding stairs.
I turned around to look at Elvis, who made Charlie laugh as he swatted his hand away when he wanted to help his boss up the steps as well. My face was hurting from smiling all day, and yet I couldn’t get myself to stop.
Today, I’d officially became Elvis’ wife.
Mrs. Presley.
A title I held with much pride and love, because it made me feel complete. I was born to be with this man, I was sure of it.
No paparazzi or fans were around, only our closest friends and the people we trusted. The people who loved us and who we loved right back.
“Have fun, you two. And be careful!” Charlie called out as me and Elvis stepped into the aircraft, waving at everyone. I knew exactly what Charlie meant with “being careful”.
I thought I knew everything about vampires, but after meeting Elvis and learning more about the species from him, I realised I’d known absolutely nothing other than the basics.
To contrary believe, vampires could procreate, with both other vampires and humans. A human and vampire pregnancy was almost never successful as the vampire gene would most likely be the strongest and therefor fatal to the human. I was aware that Elvis wanted children, but he didn’t want to lose me and if that meant staying childless, then so be it.
Then there was the option of me becoming a vampire and although I thought about it many times, we’d never spoken about it in detail.
It would certainly change things, but knowing Elvis, he’d probably feel guilty about taking part of my humanity, even if I did want it.
When the doors of the jet had closed and we were up in the air on our way to Palm Springs and leaving Memphis behind, my husband handed me my flute of second champagne and dropped a strawberry in it.
I laughed, knowing it was no use to protest.
“Makes us look real fancy,” he smirked as he did the same to his own drink and clinked the rim of our glasses together, taking a sip of the bubbly and then kissing my cheek. “You excited for our honeymoon?”
