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The Wedding - Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chatper 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue

 

 
Chapter 16

JUST AS I PLACED the blade against my wrist, though, I stopped.

Cutting myself was going to hurt, and if the knife went too deep, I could find myself bleeding too much. People committed suicide by slitting their wrists.

I knew that I wouldn’t really die that night—couldn’t be destroyed that way—but I still found my fingers shaking a little as I rested the blade against a spot where a blue vein was visible just under the surface of my skin.

It was one thing to have Lucius gently pierce my flesh in a moment of passion—and quite another to sit there alone, like an untrained surgeon, and draw my own blood . . . enough to fill a cup that suddenly seemed much larger than it had just moments before.

Behind me, Mindy shifted, and I knew that I needed to hurry. It was getting late, and I didn’t want to keep our guests—and especially Lucius—waiting.

Lucius.

Somewhere in the recesses of the Vladescu estate, wherever he was getting ready, he would be performing the same ritual as me. I knew that his hand wouldn’t be shaky, though. I could imagine him calmly lifting the knife, placing the blade against his flesh and drawing an almost invisible line down his arm. A line that would in seconds turn red as the blood began to flow out. Then he would turn his wrist over the cup and allow it to collect the drops . . .

Fingers more sure, I pressed my own knife harder against my skin, but still flinched as the blade, as sharp as a real scalpel, broke through. I applied just a little more pressure and heard Mindy gasp as dark thick liquid suddenly rushed out of the wound.

The narrow gash hadn’t hurt at first, but it started to sting then, and I sucked in a breath.

Just keep going, Jess. The worst part is over.


Steeling myself, I drew the blade about a half inch farther down my arm, then quickly turned my wrist so the blood dripped into the waiting cup.

I knew that Mindy was probably horrified—maybe even a little queasy—to watch me. In her shoes, I would’ve felt the same way. But of course, I’d changed, and I couldn’t stop thinking that, in spite of the pain, the tradition had a certain beauty. It would give me and Lucius a way to share blood at the ceremony without biting each other’s throats—which was, as Lucius had told me months ago, a very private act.

“Jess . . .” Mindy’s uncertain voice broke into my thoughts, and I glanced up to find that she’d come close and was bending down beside me, a worried look in her eyes. “I think that’s enough,” she said, looking at my arm. “I think you should stop.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, noting that the cup already held a few ounces. “That’s enough.”

I shifted and moved my arm so it lay flat on the tray, then used my other hand to lift the spoon full of herbs—willow and ginger—that would keep the blood from clotting too quickly. I stirred those into the cup, then started to reach for one of the pieces of cut cloth.

“Here.” Mindy surprised me by taking my wrist in her hand and grabbing the cloth before I could get it. “Let me help, so you don’t get blood on your dress.”

“Okay,” I agreed, letting her press the material against the wound.

After about a minute, Mindy carefully lifted a corner and peeked under. “I think it’s stopped,” she said. She met my eyes. “But I’ll leave that piece on your arm, so we don’t accidentally open the cut again, okay?”

I nodded. “Thanks.” It wasn’t exactly the right answer to Mindy’s question, but I wanted her to know that I appreciated the calm, capable way she was dealing with a situation that most bridesmaids weren’t asked to handle.

Then I watched as she bandaged my arm with the same care she’d used when arranging my hair, and I knew without a doubt that I’d chosen the right person to be my maid of honor, that I’d chosen the right girl to be my best friend, years before.

“Thanks,” I repeated as she tucked the tail of the cloth so it looked as neat as possible.

When Mindy stood up, I raised my arm, thinking that the bandage, which I’d worried would mess up my appearance, was actually strangely right. Lucius would have a nearly identical one, tied on by Raniero.

“Should I take this out?” Mindy offered, reaching for the tray.

“No, wait.” I stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I’m not done yet.”

“No?” Mindy’s raised eyebrows—and the way she kind of yelped—told me that, while she was doing a great job coping with a vampire wedding, she’d seen me shed enough blood for one night.

But I had no choice, and I took the knife again, not scared this time, because I knew I could handle the sting. Using my left hand, I marked the palm of my right with a deep X. Once again, the blood seeped out, and I picked up the last clean cloth, grasping it tightly in my fist to stanch the flow.

“Lucius will mark his left hand,” I told Mindy, who seemed understandably confused. “So when we hold hands at the ceremony to speak our vows, our blood will be blended, palm to palm.”

“Oh, wow . . .” I could tell that Mindy, always a romantic, was torn, thinking this was either the most beautiful or the most disturbing gesture ever.

“Some vampires bear the scar for the rest of their lives,” I added. “Like a wedding ring that you can’t ever remove.”

That was why I’d tried to cut my palm deeply. I wanted that permanent reminder of the night I married Lucius. I knew that Lucius would definitely make his cut deep, too.

Mindy didn’t seem to know what to say to this, so I nodded to signal that it was time for her to take away the tray—and to stop worrying about whether I would use the knife again. “I’m done now, if you’re sure you don’t mind . . .”

“Oh, sure.” She put the lid on the cup and carried away the tray, balancing it with one hand as she opened the door. The silent, waiting servant accepted the burden, and Mindy closed the door. As she came back across the room, she asked, “Now what?”

“We wait,” I said, “for whoever will lead us to the wedding.”

Once again, despite Mom’s advice, the butterflies in my stomach started fluttering like crazy. Somewhere in the estate, our guests—vampire and human—would be assembled, and Lucius would be making his way to the ceremony, and...

Who was coming for me?

Another servant? One of Lucius’s two guards?

I didn’t have long to wonder, because before Mindy could decide whether to risk wrinkling her dress by sitting down, there was another knock on the door, and I again rushed to answer it, too nervous and impatient to let my maid of honor do it.

And this time, when I opened the door, I saw that someone had been very, very busy while I’d been getting ready. I also greeted, with great happiness, my escort.

Continue to Chapter 17...

 
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