Page 6 of The Night Runs Red

I couldn’t handle it if that happened today.

“Thank you, Father,” I said, dipping my head. “And I appreciate you gracing us with your presence.” It was a lie, but his ego wouldn’t let him see it for what it was. Instead, he would use my words to fill himself with false bravado.

“As if I had a choice,” he scoffed.

I lowered my gaze, ready for him to launch into a tirade regarding keeping our family line pure. He always said his greatest curse was falling in love with my mother and being damned with me for a daughter.

I was a disappointment to him in every way. At least that’s what he told me every time he’d had too much bourbon.

Before the familiar urge to apologize could creep across my tongue, Jasper angled his body in front of me. His massive frame dwarfed my father, who, while tall, could not compare to the vampyre’s muscular frame. Once upon a time, when the fae ruled over the world and fought their wars with steel and magic, perhaps he would have measured up. But those days were long gone, and my father had let his body turn lean.

My father gaped up at Jasper in horror, his face quickly morphing into one of anger I recognized all too well. Viviane grabbed my hand to pull me back further while Castor quietly moved in front of us. “Who do you think you are, stepping into family affairs like this?” my father demanded, attempting to look over their shoulders to find me.

Though I could no longer see his face, Jasper’s tone was unbothered. “That is no way to talk to someone.”

“Lest you forget, until she walks down that aisle, she belongs to me. She is my daughter, and I’ll talk to her as I see fit,” my father hissed. He clenched his fist by his side, trying and failing to control his emotions.

Regardless of the unknown life awaiting me once the wedding ended, the devil I knew was a far worse prospect.

Viviane slid between the two men, facing her brother with a look of fierce determination. “You are making a fool of yourself, Lucius,” she warned. “Do not do anything you will likely regret.”

As Castor moved closer to my aunt, the wedding planner burst into the foyer, snapping at someone through a headset about floral arrangements. She stopped as she glanced around the room, her face temporarily draining as she took in the tension between us. “Okay! Everyone who is not the bride, her bridesmaid, or her father must move into the chapel. We have less than two minutes until the string quartet starts up, and the processional begins!” she said, clapping her hands and ushering everyone out.

Jasper hesitated, looking between my father and me, before the planner pushed him forward and told him he needed to hurry to the adjoining room where Rion was waiting. Music drifted through the thick wooden doors before my father could make a snide comment.

I was vaguely aware of the woman speaking to us, but her words were muted as I stared straight ahead. Was I simply trading one monster for another? It was hard to say, given the little interaction I’d had with Rion, but the fact Jasper had intervened between my father and me gave me the tiniest spark of hope within my chest. My aunt was the only other person I’d ever seen do that and make it out with her head still intact.

The planner escorted Brielle into the chapel, closing the doors before I could see what awaited me on the other side. She gave me a weak smile. “Alright, you two, it’s almost time! My darling Calia, if you could rest your hand on the inside of your father’s elbow. And don’t forget to smile!” She moved us around as if we were dolls, ensuring my hair and makeup were flawless after fluffing out my dress.

My eyes drifted close as the music blended together. The musicians played, slowly bleeding one tune into another until I had no idea where one ended, and the other had begun. The melody wasn’t one I recognized, but I was already lost in the beauty of it. Somehow it grounded me, keeping my mind from wandering to dark places.

The doors opened before us, and the sound of people rising from their seats quickly followed. This is it; there’s no going back now. I lifted my head and slowly opened my eyes, letting the scene in front of me come into focus. While I could tell everyone was dressed to the nines and the chapel was littered with beautiful flower arrangements, my gaze was quickly stolen by the man directly down the aisle from me.

Rion’s dark eyes sparked with intrigue as he took me in. His fingers were interlaced in front of him, the nervous tap of his finger coinciding with each step I took toward the altar. If this had been any other situation, the way he was looking at me right now would have giddy swirls of excitement dancing in my belly.

My father and I stopped at the bottom of an elevated platform; only three small steps separated me from my future husband. The priest stepped forward, clad in long black robes that dragged along the floor. “Who gives this woman to be united with this man?” he asked, gesturing between Rion and I. His gaze was still fixed on me, making me want to shrink away.

“I do,” my father said gruffly, quickly taking my hand and thrusting it into Rion’s before hurrying back toward the front row of pews.

Shame threatened to heat my cheeks as I climbed the stairs, but I fought hard not to let it show. Within the hour, he would no longer hold sway over my life or decisions, and he didn’t deserve the gratification of putting me down any further.

Rion’s hands were cold and hard like stone, but oddly comforting. I thought he would have pulled away by now, but he kept mine in a tight grip with no hint of loosening. I slowly let my eyes drift up his body, admiring the tattoos peeking out from under his tux. He tightened his grip, pulling my attention toward his face.

Staring into his eyes was like getting lost in the night sky. Tiny flecks of silver sparkled within his obsidian gaze. I’d never seen anything like it before.

The priest began his speech—discussing the strength of unions and how they could either build this world anew or tear it to the ground. While it was a beautiful sentiment, it didn’t go unnoticed that he avoided using the word ‘love’ at all costs. That was fine, wasn’t it? After all, nothing about this had anything to do with love. Still, perhaps I wanted to bask in the thin illusion that we could, someday, find a similar quality within each other. Without it, I feared our life together would dull rapidly.

“Now is the time for the sacrament,” the priest said, extending his hands. Rion took my palm and faced it toward the sky before doing the same with his own. “Blood must be paid to appease the ancestors and seal your vow,” he said, gesturing toward a golden dagger sitting on a velvet pillow next to the pew.

Rion picked it up and ran the edge of the blade against my skin before I could react. His nostrils flared as my blood welled the surface, elongating his canines to a sharp point. He brought my palm to his lips and traced the wound with his tongue. Pleasure raced through me, causing my body to arch into his until I couldn’t think straight.

When he pulled away, a low moan escaped my lips as they parted. I wanted nothing more for him to quell this insatiable hunger he’d created. To soothe the fire burning in the pit of my stomach. But the spell was broken as he placed the blade in my hand, and I realized it was my turn to mark him.

I mimicked his movements, splitting open his cold skin and watching the dark red substance come to the light. Our eyes met as I bent forward and ran my tongue across his wound as he had with mine. The flavor was unexpected. The copper notes were there, but there was almost something sweet too. As I pulled away, his blood still on my lips, he reached out and wiped the remnants away with his thumb. As he placed the digit in his mouth to cleanse the spot with his tongue, I felt my inhibitions slip away.

A loud crack rang out within the cathedral, shattering the trance we found ourselves in. The screams quickly followed, sending the room into chaos. It was with a horrifying clarity that I realized they were gunshots.

I could barely breathe, especially as I looked into the eyes of our priest. Thick crimson flowed freely from his lips until his body collapsed. He lay choking on his own blood until his gaze dimmed and nothing remained but the still glaze of death.

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