Chapter 18
I gasped in wonder at the setting, because Lucius had chosen for us to marry not in some grand ballroom, but in a small, intimate courtyard – like a grotto – that was bounded by stone walls smothered beneath creeping, wild vines and twisting tendrils of moonflower, which snaked all the way up to the eaves high above us. The last bright, white blossoms of late summer were open for the night, and looked just like stars that were falling to earth around us.

The only light came from the full moon and even more candles – candles everywhere – tucked into the sills of the tall, arched windows that lined the walls, and clustered by the dozens on the stone table where the small silver cups waited, and hidden among the flowers that grew in unruly profusion throughout the garden.

The whole scene was perfect, as Lucius had promised. Although we were at the center of a castle that he maintained with an eye for order and precision, the courtyard had a chaotic beauty, kind of like love, itself. At least, it was like the love that I had for Lucius, which seemed uncontrollable. A disorderly, wild place at the center of my own heart, which had once insisted on rational order, too.

Yes, it was the garden that caused me to draw a sharp breath.

But it was the sight of Lucius, himself – not the amazing setting that he’d created for us – that compelled me to speak his name

He stood waiting for me at the end of a pathway through the foliage, before the stone table, and I’d never seen him look so serious – so grave. But this wasn’t the dark side of Lucius that sometimes came over him. No… it was like he was so happy that he couldn’t even smile. I understood that expression because I was feeling the same thing. It was like a joy so deep that it could only be expressed with our eyes, seeming too profound for something as frivolous as a grin.

Although I knew that our guests were waiting, watching, I was barely aware of them sitting on rows of wooden chairs on either side of the path, and I didn’t walk toward Lucius right away. We just stood in silence, completely lost in time, space – and each other. Even in the distance, in the darkness, I could tell that I had succeeded in moving him. That he would never forget how I’d looked when I’d entered the garden as his bride, just as I would never forget the sight of Lucius standing tall with his usual confidence, his broad shoulders drawn back and his hands clasped behind his back – a pose that was familiar to me.

But that night, Lucius didn’t bow his head and pace. He stood perfectly still, back straight, eyes fixed on me as we shared that extraordinary, deep happiness, both of us knowing that this moment would only come once.

We might have stood like that for hours if Dad hadn’t withdrawn his arm from mine and kissed my cheek. I finally broke my gaze with Lucius to turn to my father, whose eyes glistened with tears again as he told me, “I love you, Jess.”

I wanted to tell Dad that I loved him, too, but my throat suddenly caught, and I had to trust that he understood what I couldn’t quite manage to say.

Then he stepped aside, because the tradition was for me to walk the final few feet to my husband, alone. I didn’t even carry flowers. I was supposed to approach Lucius empty-handed, to symbolize that from that night on, there would be nothing between us.

I nodded to Mindy, who stepped ahead of me and began to walk slowly down the pathway, and when she reached the end and took her place, looking back to me, the guests rose and turned, too. But I still barely noticed them, or Mindy waiting to the left of the stone table, or Raniero standing at Lucius’s right hand. I was again transfixed by the sight of Lucius, taking in not just his eyes, but the whole of the man, the vampire, whom I was about to marry.

His black hair gleamed in the moonlight, which, together with the candles, illuminated his features, too. The high cheekbones, straight nose and strong jaw that I’d first noticed back in a Pennsylvania high school, on a day and in a place that seemed lifetimes removed from this one. He wore a tuxedo as dark as his eyes, and which fit – and suited – him as perfectly as the garden fit our ceremony. The suit was understated – no tails or shiny silk lapels – but its simplicity only seemed to emphasize Lucius’s self-assurance, as if he was confident enough in his own power to need nothing showy on his body. Somehow, he managed to look like the prince that he was in nothing more than an impeccably fitted dark coat, a white shirt and black tie, and a pair of black pants, narrow like those he’d worn to our pre-wedding dinner.

Lucius stood straight but at ease, like the warrior he’d been raised to be, waiting for me, and I could hardly believe that he was mine.

Had he ever looked so tall before? So commanding? So compelling?

As I began to walk toward him, never taking my eyes off of him, I saw that he did wear one subtle touch of color. A dove gray vest, almost like the color on the bodice of my gown. And as I stepped close to him, he withdrew his hands from behind his back, like he couldn’t wait one more second to touch me, and I also saw a flash of white on his arm. A glimpse of bleached cloth that peeked out from under his sleeve, just above his hand.

“Antanasia…,” he said, when I was close enough to hear him whisper. Close enough to see the amazement, the wonder, in his eyes – emotions powerful enough to render even Lucius Vladescu – maybe for the first time in his life – speechless. “I… I…”

I did smile, then, because I knew that I’d succeeded. Lucius, always so eloquent, couldn’t even find the words to express what he felt just to see me.

I took my place at his side, and Lucius smiled too, revealing, for the first time that evening, the pure white teeth that I would finally again experience against my throat, later that night. I stared up at his handsome face, certain that I’d never been happier than in the moment when Lucius held out his left hand – his scored, dominant hand – and clasped my similarly marked right hand, squeezing our palms together, both to privately join us in that public setting – and to gently reopen the wounds, so our blood could commingle.

The incision on my hand, so fresh, ached to be disturbed, the skin pulled apart, and Lucius watched my face carefully, concern and apology in his eyes to wound me again, but I shook my head, just slightly, telling him that it was okay, that he should make sure the blood flowed out.

At my sign, he pressed his fingers more firmly around my hand, twisting our palms, just slightly, and I forced myself not to show that it did hurt as my cut reopened against his. I could feel the blood begin to seep out, and although I knew that Lucius bled, too, it was impossible to tell whose blood was whose – just as it was meant to be, from that time on.

I’d thought that the instant when Lucius had first sunk his fangs deep into my throat would always be the best moment of my life, but nothing could compare to uniting with him in front of our family and friends, forever. Nothing would ever compare to that warm, worshipful look in his eyes, which were again unguarded, open, to me, while our cool blood blended at the point where we connected.

We took another moment to just be, together – seal everything in memory – and then we turned to face the eldest of the Elders, who had stepped from the shadows and joined us across the stone table, and who announced, “Let us begin…”

Continue to Chapter 19...