MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

The first hazy tendrils of dawn seeped through the heavy drapes, casting Rose's bedchamber in a soft, golden glow. She stirred beneath the silken sheets, blinking slowly as the realm of wakefulness beckoned her from the depths of an uneasy slumber.

As the lingering vestiges of her dreams faded, the weight of her current predicament came crashing back in full force. Rose pressed a hand to her abdomen, feeling the unmistakable swell where only weeks ago there had been flat, toned planes.

Her confrontation with Damien loomed, an inescapable specter on the horizon. With a weary sigh, Rose threw back the covers and rose from the lavish bed. There would be no more rest this morning, not with such momentous events awaiting her.

She dressed with careful precision, selecting an elegant sheath of crimson silk that skimmed her newly rounded curves. A tailored jacket in a complementary shade of wine hid what the unforgiving fabric could not, the structured shoulder line lending an air of unmistakable power and authority.

The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant hues of crimson and tangerine, when Rose arrived at Damien's sprawling estate. The wrought iron gates parted soundlessly as she approached, granting her passage onto the immaculately manicured grounds.

Steeling her resolve, Rose made her way up the winding drive, the gravel crunching beneath the wheels of her sleek town car. A million frantic thoughts chased each other through her mind, but she forced them all down, adopting an outward facade of calm collectedness.

She would need every ounce of her legendary poise for the confrontation to come.

The heavy oak doors swung open as Rose ascended the steps, revealing the cavernous entrance hall with its vaulted ceilings and exquisite marble floors. Damien himself awaited her beneath the crystal chandelier, resplendent in an impeccably tailored suit of midnight black.

"Ah, Rose." His lips curved in a serpentine smile as she approached. "So good of you to accept my invitation."

"Let's dispense with the pleasantries, shall we?" Rose arched one meticulously groomed brow, her tone clipped and businesslike. "I have a proposition for you."

Damien regarded her quizzically but made no move to reply, so Rose barreled onward.

"First, I want to know why." The words emerged crisp and precise, cutting through the fraught silence like shards of tempered glass. "Why is it so imperative that I take my place at your side before the Council?"

For an endless moment, Damien regarded her through hooded eyes, as if weighing the merits of offering his true intentions. At last, he seemed to arrive at a decision, heaving an exaggerated sigh as one might for a petulant child.

"Very well, if you must know..." He waved an elegant hand, pacing towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sprawling grounds. "My reputation among the Council of Old Ones and their ilk has become... tenuous, of late. They see me as a usurper, an upstart who seized power through unsavory means."

A muscle ticked in his chiseled jaw as he turned to face her once more, his handsome features arranged in an expression of perfect earnestness.

"To cement my rightful place as Lord of Ancroft and retain the respect of my peers, I must take a mate. One of impeccable breeding and unimpeachable status." His dark gaze bored into her own with searing intensity. "You, my dear Rose, are the perfect candidate for such a role."

"As difficult as it is for me to admit," Damien continued, his voice descending to a rueful murmur, "I need you at my side if I'm to achieve true sovereignty and unshakable legitimacy. Without you, I remain a target, a usurper to be undermined at every turn."

Rose felt her throat constrict as the weight of his words settled upon her like a suffocating mantle. Of course. Of course Damien would never operate out of sentimentality or even base lust. No, this was a calculated play for power, nothing more.

She drew a steadying breath, her hand straying to the gentle swell of her midsection. Slowly, deliberately, Rose began to rub soothing circles over the silk, hope and despair warring within her breast.

This was her chance. Perhaps her only chance.

"Since you're aware of my condition..." she began, lifting her chin in defiant challenge. "I cannot simply throw my life away, Damien. Not with the potential for something... greater on the horizon."

From the depth of her jacket pocket, she withdrew the sheaf of documents she'd brandished the night before, holding them aloft for emphasis.

"Which is why I've taken the liberty of drafting a contract. A set of stipulations which must be agreed to before I even entertain the notion of legitimizing our union."

Damien regarded the slim folder with a look of utter disdain, but inclined his head in a shallow nod of acquiescence.

Rose steeled herself, praying her voice would not quaver and betray her sudden onset of nerves.

"Very well then. Here are my terms..."

Drawing herself up to her full height, Rose met his penetrating stare head-on. "First, you must guarantee that no harm will come to me or my child."

Damien opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, but Rose pressed on before he could unleash his honeyed words of deception.

"Secondly, my child will remain in my custody at all times and their existence is to be kept utterly secret from the vampire community. They will be free to come and go as they please once they reach maturity, without any interference or influence from you or your ilk."

A muscle ticked in Damien's jaw as his eyes narrowed to slits of molten amber in the fading daylight. Rose could practically see the wheels turning behind that impenetrable facade as he calculated his next move.

She refused to give him the opportunity.

"And finally," she continued, her voice low and utterly devoid of inflection, "you will make no move to formalize our... union until two years have passed after my child's birth."

This time, Damien did react - a low growl rumbled up from the depths of his broad chest, his sharp fangs glinting like polished ivory in the dimness.

"You presume much, my dear," he purred in that silken baritone that could seduce angels. "What ever makes you think I would agree to such outrageous demands?"

The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Rose's lips as she reached into the pocket of her jacket and withdrew a slim manila folder. She held it up, allowing Damien's keen senses to register the weight of it in her hands, the scent of the documents within.

"Because I have evidence, love. Evidence of your rather... underhanded methods in securing your position as Lord of Ancroft." Her smile widened a fraction as Damien's tawny eyes narrowed in apparent recognition. "I'm sure the Council of Old Ones would be most interested in the truths contained herein."

Damien was silent for a beat, the only sound the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the receiving room. Then, deliberately, he closed the distance between them until the heat of his body caressed Rose's exposed skin like the leading edge of a wildfire.

"Is that a threat, wife?" His words were soft, almost gentle, but Rose could hear the undercurrent of molten fury lying in wait just beneath the surface.

She tilted her head back to maintain her defiant stare, refusing to be cowed by his overt attempts at intimidation. "Only if you force my hand, Damien."

For a long, suspended moment, they studied one another - he, the picture of supreme arrogance and brutal power; she, the unshakable personification of nerves of pure steel. Damien fought the urge to slash Rose's throat right there and then but knew that would be his own undoing. Rose may have men ready to knock at the council's door the moment she didn't step out of his court in one piece.

At last, Damien's lips quirked in a mocking semblance of amusement.

"Very well, you conniving wench. I'll agree to your ridiculous stipulations..." His tongue flicked out, subtly scenting the air between them. "On one condition."

Rose felt her pulse spike despite her efforts at maintaining control. She inclined her head in a shallow nod, silently bidding him to continue.

"While I will honor your absurd requests for the time being," Damien began in a low, velvety purr, "you must vow to refrain from any further deception or trickery in our dealings, Rose. All evidence you may have compiled on my prior... indiscretions shall be surrendered to me forthwith."

His gaze seemed to bore straight through to her very soul as his fangs elongated in an unconscious display of primal dominance.

"Furthermore, you will accept that once the waiting period you've demanded has elapsed, we will be bound as mates in truth and deed. Our union will remain intact and inviolable until the death of one or both of us. Break this vow, and no force in this universe or any other will protect you from my wrath."

A tremor of trepidation skittered down Rose's spine, but she refused to allow it to show on her features. This was her one chance, her sole opportunity to safeguard her child from the wolves lying in wait.

Drawing a fortifying breath, she nodded once more. "Agreed."

Damien's smile was all teeth and angles, a blade's edge barely hidden beneath skin-deep civility. "Excellent. And now, I believe some manner of binding ritual is in order, don't you? To seal our little... contract."

Before Rose could respond, he had spun on his heel and stalked off down one of the dimly lit hallways branching off from the foyer. She could only stand and wait with bated breath, the documents still clutched in her trembling hands as the seconds stretched into agonizing minutes.

At last, Damien reemerged from the shadows, something sleek and black cradled in his arms. Rose tensed, half-expecting a weapon or instrument of torture. But as he drew closer, she realized it was merely a simple black lacquered box, unadorned save for the heavy iron latch keeping its lid secured.

"This," Damien purred, holding the box aloft so that Rose could drink in every meticulous detail of the container, "is how we shall bind our covenant, you and I."