“The other two I brought in have sleeves,” my mother said .
I went back into the dressing room. The second dress had crystals around the waist, and I shook my head. “I don’t want any of the crystals or beading,” I said, feeling more confident in asserting my opinion now. After all, if I had to go through with this, shouldn’t I be able to choose what I wore ?
Brenna looked at me sharply, but took the third dress off of the hanger. It was the right size for me, too, so she was able to button it up instead of clamping it. I stepped out without looking in the dressing room mirror, wanting to see it in the large floor mirror. I crossed my fingers at my side and hoped it would be the one .
“Oh, Anna,” my mother breathed when I stepped out .
I looked in the mirror, and my eyes widened .
The dress was a dream. It was a soft antique white, made of smooth satin covered in embroidered lace from the bodice to the hem. The sleeves were elbow length and fringed in soft eyelash lace, the neckline was sweetheart, dipping just low enough to enhance the shape of my bust without being too daring. It buttoned from the nape of my neck to the end of the train, which swept out behind me in a luxurious sprawl of satin and lace. It looked elegant, and it matched the heirloom feel of the jewels Dimitri had given me perfectly .
My mother came to stand next to me, and handed Brenna a veil she’d plucked off of the rack. It was cathedral length and raw-edged, exactly the type of veil I’d always pictured myself wearing .
My mother slid the comb into my hair, and I felt tears pricking at the edge of my eyes. It seemed so unfair that this moment should be happening like this, preparing me for a marriage I didn’t want. I set my jaw firmly. I would simply have to not think about it, and try to extract what little happiness I could from the event .
It was the only thing I could do .
3
Dimitri
T he month passed more swiftly than I could have imagined. I spent the days throwing myself into my work, trying to distract myself so that I wouldn’t think so often about how much I missed Bernard, and about the upheaval that was likely to happen when Anna came into the house. I could still see the look of betrayal in Raoul’s eyes when I’d told him of my decision to marry Anna. It wasn’t so much the official status of Anna as my wife that bothered him, I thought. Raoul and I had had a sort of ceremony, over a century ago, marking him as my partner, using the rituals of vampires for such things. To me, it meant more than the human ceremony I would go through with Anna in two days. Anna would be with me until death, but Raoul would be with me for eternity. There was a monumental difference, and I felt that he knew it .
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 h
ouse. 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 forgotten 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 .
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 .
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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 .”
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