No, his hurt was in feeling that I was replacing Bernard so quickly. I’d held him that night, curled on the loveseat in front of the fire, and reassured him that the marriage was a statement only.
But this morning, when we lay in the massive, velvet-draped canopy bed in our bedroom, I could see the doubts in his eyes again. We were both naked, the heavy covers pushed aside, still damp with sweat. I was nearly ready to sleep, my body satiated, when I felt Raoul’s fingers touch mine. “She won’t come between us, will she?” His voice was quiet, so I almost missed what he said. “You won’t...touch her the way you touch me?”
“I won’t touch her at all,” I said gruffly, ready to sleep. It always amazed me how emotional Raoul was with me. With others, he was even more arrogant than I was, the polished and dapper gentleman to my slightly rougher personality. I supposed it was a mark of how much he loved me that he was so very vulnerable in private. “I’ve promised Anthony I would have nothing to do with her in that way. Not unless she wants it. And I don’t suspect she will.”
Raoul sighed softly. “Oh Dimitri. I know you. You’ll try to seduce her. You won’t be able to bear that there’s someone who belongs to you who doesn’t want you.”
I clenched my teeth, trying to be patient. I was exhausted, and the wedding was rapidly approaching. “Why is this upsetting you, Raoul? You were never jealous of Bernard.” In fact, sometimes the two of you were alone more often than we were, I thought, but didn’t say it. It was a pointless argument. We had never been monogamous, but Raoul had seemed satisfied with Bernard and I. If he had been with anyone else in the last several decades, at least, I didn’t know about it.
“Bernard was like us,” Raoul said. “He was one of us. She isn’t.”
I understood it then. While Raoul had always liked the novelty of humans, he had never been drawn to them the way I was—to their mortality, their fragility. He was jealous of Anna’s humanity, afraid that I would want her more than Raoul, who I could never lose, not truly.
I leaned forward, kissing him softly on the lips. “Raoul, we are each other’s, bound by rituals that are older and deeper than what I will take part in with Anna. Our bond cannot be broken.”
“So you won’t do the vampire marriage rituals with her, later?”
I tried to imagine Anna, the shy, tomboyish girl that I’d glimpsed on occasion on visits to her father’s shop, partaking in the blood ritual of the vampires. I could not even begin to picture it.
“No, Raoul. We will do the standard marriage ceremony, at St. Patrick’s—a place I absolutely abhor, as you well know—for the show of it. It will bring me publicity, and it will show those who deal with me that I am not to be trifled with. And then I will come back to you, and things will be mostly as they were before.”
“She will be on your arm for all of the official things.”
“And you will be there too, Raoul. As my right hand, as you have always been.” I took a deep breath. “I know you would rather I have killed Anthony outright. I know you are not happy with my decision. But it is my decision, and it will not be changed.” I squeezed his hand. “Get some rest.”
---
Raoul’s mood was nearly unbearable the day of the wedding. I dressed without him, looking in the mirror as I waited for the sun to go down and it to be time to head to the church. I stared at my wavering reflection. It was so foolish, the superstitions humans had about us. My reflection wasn’t as clear as a human’s might have been, though; the edges were blurry, as if to remind me always that I lived in some space between life and death, between human and…something else.
I shook my head and straightened my tie, shrugging on my jacket. This was a matter of business. There was no need to be getting emotional or existential. I would go through the ceremony, marry Anna, and come home and it would be business as usual. She would find something to occupy her, and all would be normal.
It was a particularly cold evening. By the time my driver pulled up at the curb of the church, snow was beginning to fall and stick to the sidewalk. I slid out of one side and Raoul out of the other, and I could tell he was studiously avoiding me. I didn’t respond. I simply couldn’t, right now. I needed to focus on what had to be done. Later, I could console him.
Raoul stood beside me as we stood at the altar, the priest looking as grim as I felt. He’d resisted the wedding mightily, but recanted after I made a sizeable donation. Everyone could be bought.
The music started, and I saw Anna’s mother, face pale, as she walked ahead of Anna, her only attendant. I hadn’t wanted to do the wedding party nonsense, and Anna had said nothing to me about it. I expected that she would neither want to lie to her friends about the circumstances of our marriage, or force her friends to go through the charade, as well.
Then the doors opened, and I turned to see my bride walking through the door on Anthony’s arm. I was utterly stunned for a moment, hit with such a blinding flash of déjà vu that for a moment I forgot where I was.
The picture of Anna in my head had always been the quiet, hoodie-wearing girl who helped her father in his shop, who stayed out of the way and never spoke to me. The woman walking through the massive double doors of the church was a vision.
I had married a human woman once, centuries ago when I was still minor royalty, a member of another minor noble house. She had died very soon after our wedding, and though time had blurred the memories, I still longed for her from time to time. I had truly loved her. For a stunned second, I thought I was there, in that Russian church, watching Katerina walk down the aisle.
Anna was wearing an antique lace gown, her face covered with a soft, gauzy veil that trailed down her back and swept behind her. The rubies I had given her and the engagement ring glowed in the light of the hundreds of candles lit in the church, and I swallowed visibly. Not even Katerina had been so beautiful, so ethereal. I heard Raoul clear his throat behind me, and I didn’t know if it was displeasure at my reaction or if he too was overwhelmed by her. I didn’t care. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
And then she was at my arm, her father placing her hand in mine, and the betrayal I saw in Anthony’s face immediately killed the sense of euphoria I’d had upon seeing Anna. The cold reality of why this marriage was happening settled in again, and I set my jaw, turning to face the priest.
I heard the vows being said, but all I could focus on was Anna’s face. I saw her clearly, so close to me. She seemed older than the girl I remembered. Her face was pale, her red-stained lips trembling as she listened to the priest. Her eyes were brown, shimmering, and I was suddenly seized with a desire to touch her face, to assure her that I meant her no harm. That I wouldn’t hurt her.
But of course I was hurting her, in this very moment. I was binding her to me, without love or affection. But I felt I had no choice, unless I was to cause her even greater pain by taking away her father.
I said my vows clearly and with certainty, and I was startled to hear Anna say hers in an equally calm and clear voice, with only the vaguest hint of a tremor. It impressed me, the backbone of this girl, to follow through on my demands and promise herself to me without any sign of fear.
“What God has joined together, let no man cast asunder,” the priest intoned. “Dimtri Sergeyevich, you may kiss your bride.”
She didn’t move. I took the hem of her veil, lifting the delicate material over her face. It glowed in the candlelight, and her eyes caught mine, her lips parting ever so slightly. I leaned towards her, caught in some emotion I couldn’t name. Perhaps it was only the centuries-old memory of Katerina, staring up at me in a church very like this one, waiting for my kiss.
Or perhaps it was the defiant look in Anna’s eyes, as if she dared me to do anything more to her than I had already done.
I leaned down, pressing my cool lips chastely against hers. I felt her stiffen slightly at my touch, and I expected that no one had warned her that I would not be as warm as she was used to, even when I’d recently fed. And I had forgott
en to feed before we left, an oversight I now regretted. I knew it would seem thoughtless on my part.
I pulled away, and reached for her hand, turning to face the nearly empty church. Only Anna’s parents, Raoul, and a few of my closest confidantes were here to witness the marriage. The reception would be a different matter altogether, packed with as many of my business associates and acquaintances as I could invite. For the barest second, I thought I felt her fingers curl around mine, but if they did, it was only for a moment, and then her hand was lax in mine again.
---
She didn’t acknowledge me as she slid into the car, nodding briefly at the driver as he held open the door for her. Raoul was riding in the other car, whether because he understood that I had to keep appearances with my new bride or because he was angry, I didn’t know. I couldn’t think of it just now. I had to get through the rest of the evening.
Anna tucked the train of her dress under her legs, her veil pooling on the black leather seat between us. She tugged the comb out of her hair, leaving a pile of gauze on the seat. She ran her fingers over the space where it had been, smoothing the strands back. Her hair was shining, glinting in the streetlights as we pulled out onto the street, and I had a sudden urge to touch it. I resisted, balling my fist against her leg. I had made Anthony and Anna both a promise, and Raoul too, for that matter. I would not touch her. Not unless she begged me for it. And that, I knew, she never would.
Chapter 4: Anna
I could feel the distance between us as the car pulled out onto the street. It was inches, but it felt like an insurmountable chasm. I took a deep breath, looking down at my hands folded in my lap. An antiqued gold band was on my finger, nestled against the diamond Dimitri had given me. It was a distant fear no longer…I was Dimitri’s wife. There was no going back.
I thought about the kiss in the church, the gentle way his lips had brushed over mine. I’d been startled, walking down the aisle towards him, by how handsome he was. I’d seen him in my father’s shop from time to time, but I’d never bothered to really look at him. But how he’d looked, standing at the altar, surrounded by hundreds of candles, dressed in his suit—I couldn’t think of any man I’d ever seen who was more handsome. And I couldn’t deny it, for a moment when he’d leaned towards me, lifting my veil, I’d felt my heart flutter at how close he was to me. I’d forgotten, for a second, that he was a man who had blackmailed me into marrying him, that he had my father’s life in his hands. I’d only seen how devastatingly handsome he was, the scent of his cologne—vanilla and burned wood—and his fingers brushing against my cheek as he lifted my veil. For a moment, I was a woman in lace and jewels, in a cathedral surrounded by candlelight, and a man who looked like a god was about to kiss me.
And then the moment had passed, and I remembered who I was, and who he was, and I had never felt more ashamed.
So I stared out of the car window now at the swirling snow, refusing to look at him, even though I could feel him looking at me. I would have to look at him very soon, at the reception, and play the part of the blushing bride. But I couldn’t do it just now.
The irony of it all was that if I had ever dreamed of a wedding day, I would have been hard-pressed to come up with anything more like a fairy-tale. He’d created a night straight out of a dream, right down to the graceful snow falling from the sky. Not a detail had been missing—except for love. And a willing bride.
He’d rented out one of the finest restaurants in Manhattan for the reception, and as we walked in hand in hand, I heard the cheers and calls of hundreds of people I didn’t know. There was a handful of people here for me—friends of my parents, and business associates of both my father and Dimitri. I had invited a few of my friends, unable to think of an excuse as to why I couldn’t, but none of them had come. I hadn’t heard from any of them in weeks. I knew none of them believed the story of my whirlwind romance with Dimitri—they knew me too well—and they couldn’t imagine any other reason for the sudden wedding. So instead of trying to puzzle it out, they simply faded away.
Somehow, I made it through the dinner and the toasts, a smile forced onto my face. I barely touched my food, laughing along with every joke by some business associate, repeating the fiction about our sudden romance. Before I knew it, the band started a new song, heavy on the string instruments, and a sudden hush fell over the room.
“Well, darling, that’s our cue,” Dimitri said, his mouth quirking up in a half-smile, and he reached for my hand.
I’d seen him laugh and smile with dozens of people all evening, but that was the first time he’d smiled at me. It made my heart flutter again, created a sudden hollow feeling in my stomach. Tentatively, I took his hand, and let him draw me onto the dance floor.
I’d learned to dance as a child, standing on my father’s toes as he turned me around and around the living room. We’d practiced before my first prom, too—I’d been a surly teenager, inwardly laughing at my father as he taught me steps that were nothing like the dances teenagers did. Now, as I stepped onto the dance floor with Dimitri, I was grateful for the dance steps I’d learned from him that let me slide smoothly into the waltz, held gracefully between Dimitri’s hands. I fought to keep my eyes from welling up with tears. I knew Dimitri would notice, and I didn’t want to have to explain myself.
We spun around the floor, and I let myself be soothed by the familiar steps, by the rise and fall of the instruments. I could see the admiration in Dimitri’s eyes as I let him lead me through the dance, matching his steps perfectly. At the end, as we came to a stop in the middle of the floor to cheers and applause, I knew what he would do before he did it. I wasn’t surprised that his fingers curled gently around the back of my head, or that he bent his head, dipping me back gently as his mouth brushed over mine. I was prepared for it, ready to feel nothing.
But I did feel something. I didn’t want to, but the moment his lips touched mine, cool and dry as they were, I felt a rush of heat. I could feel my face and chest flushing, and a sudden, unwanted urge to press myself against him, to part my lips and melt into the kiss. I stiffened, fighting the desire, and I immediately felt him pull back, straightening back into the formality he’d had the entire day, with the exception of that first kiss, at the altar. It made my feelings towards him soften a little. He was, as he’d promised, careful with me. It didn’t fix what had happened, but it did make me feel slightly more conciliatory.
The next song started, and Dimitri released me to my father for our dance. It was nearly impossible, this time, to keep my eyes from welling up with tears. “Are you okay, Anna?” he whispered as he guided me around the dance floor. “I can’t begin to say how…”
I shook my head discreetly before he could say anything else. “There’s nothing to be gained from going back over it,” I said, as firmly as I could muster. “What’s done is done. I’ll do my best to be happy.”
“Dimtri will take care of you,” my father insisted. “I know it isn’t what you wanted, but he won’t hurt you.”
I said nothing. I knew that it was the only small comfort my father still had, the knowledge that Dimitri wouldn’t harm me physically. The emotional damage was done.
As the song ended and I turned to head back to the sweetheart’s table, I caught the eye of a man sitting at the table just behind ours. I recognized him as Dimitri’s best man, although I had been too overwhelmed at the church to do much more than just get through, moment by moment. I hadn’t really looked at him. He was eyeing me now, with a strange mixture of distaste and something that seemed very much like lust, but it was nearly predatory.
I was certain that he was a vampire. I had never met one other than Dimitri, but there was something about his face and the way he held himself that was so very like Dimitri that I couldn’t imagine he was anything else. His face was fresh and youthful, but it was as if time had settled onto it somehow, hardening it. I met his eyes, and I expected him to look away, embarrassed that I’d caught him staring. But he didn’t.
He didn’t stop looking at me until I sat down at the table next to Dimitri. I turned away, ignoring him. Whoever he was, I hoped I wouldn’t see him again soon, if ever.
---
I was quiet as we rode in the car to Dimitri’s home—my home now, too. I was so nervous that I felt nauseous, unsure of how the rest of the night would go. I was sure that Dimitri would keep his promise, and not touch me unless I asked him to—which I had no intention of doing. Still, the idea of sleeping in the same house with him made my stomach knot.
The car pulled up in front of his—our—home far too quickly. The driver came around and helped me out, and I looked up at the place where I would live now. I wasn’t sure exactly what I had expected—a castle with gargoyles, maybe. It was an old building, for sure, in one of the historic districts, made of brick and stone, with arched windows. I followed Dimitri through the doors, into the foyer. He walked around behind me to take my coat, and I caught my breath slightly as his fingers grazed over my shoulders. I hated him, I did. But it had been a long day and he had kissed me twice, and I was only a human, after all.
I looked around, my eyes wide. It was decorated much like I had expected. The walls were brick and stone, like the outside, with exposed rafters along the high ceilings. The hardwood floors were covered here and there with rugs that looked faded but were likely incredibly expensive, and the furniture was all heavy and upholstered in brocade and velvet. There were velvet drapes at the windows of the living area, and a heavy iron and wood spiral staircase to my left.
Bears of Burden: HUTCH Page 38