Prologue Ian “Why am I waiting for the bride of Dracula to grace me with her presence when I should be out looking for my runaway wife?” Ian watched as his best mate, Crispin, glanced around to make sure Vlad hadn’t been close enough to overhear him. Ian didn’t care. Vlad owed him for . . . something. Ian couldn’t remember what since it was tied to his mostly missing previous month, but he knew it was significant. Sod his host’s temper tantrum if he overhead Ian calling him by his most-hated nickname of Dracula. “The fact that you can’t remember the real reason behind your new . . . attached state is why we’re here,” Crispin said. “Vlad’s wife knows a secret you were hiding from the rest of us. If it’s the cause of your partial memory loss, we need to find it out before we proceed.” Attached state. Ian’s lips curled. Crispin still couldn’t bring himself to say “marriage.” Every fiber of Ian’s being should reject that word, too. Instead, he was driven by a near-crazed need to find Veritas, also known as the little vixen he’d wedded. True, he couldn’t remember why he’d married Veritas. That part hadn’t survived whatever process had torn most of his memories of the past several weeks from his mind. But he had a vivid recollection of their binding ceremony, even if the notion of him marrying anyone, let alone a Law Guardian,