Twice Tempted (Night Prince #2)(40)
Author: Jeaniene Frost

Gretchen appeared in the reflection. "Don’t even think about crying during your vows. It’ll ruin your makeup."

My sister’s comment was a dash of reality in these unreal circumstances, but that was fine. She was here, dressed in a strapless amethyst satin gown that showed off curves I needed creative draping to duplicate. Her shoulder-length black hair was up, adding an air of sophistication, and her dark eye makeup made her appear older than her twenty-two years.

"You look amazing," I told her.

"No," she said, her voice becoming soft. "You do."

Then she shocked me by hugging me. Underneath the hairspray and body lotion, I caught her scent, like lemons and sea spray. I inhaled, knowing I’d never come across either of those without thinking of my sister.

She let me go with a snort. "Did you just smell me?"

Sheepish, I nodded. "All the blood Vlad gave me put more than my hearing into overdrive."

Another snort. "You get weirder by the day, you know that?" Then she glanced around, but the three genius seamstresses had left. "Well, do I smell okay? You can’t beg, bribe, or steal perfume in this place."

A house of people with hyperactive olfactory senses? I didn’t doubt it. Perfume would be like mace to vampires.

"You smell fine," I assured her.

Taps sounded at the door. Gretchen opened it, revealing Marty. He wore a black tuxedo that must have been recently made because he didn’t own one, and it fit him like a glove. His bushy sideburns were now neatly trimmed and his thick black hair was slicked back, adding a hint of rakishness to his formal appearance.

"It’s time," he said. Then he stared. "Wow, kid. Both of you," he hastily added.

I turned so Marty could see my entire dress, careful not to trip on my train. "I still can’t believe Sinead, Frances, and Bertrice made this in six hours. Those vampires sewed so fast, they almost caught the threads on fire."

My voice trailed off as someone else appeared behind Marty. Hugh Dalton also wore a tuxedo, and his gray-black hair was freshly cut. The lines in his face looked sharper, but lips that had been drawn into a slit softened somewhat as he looked at me.

"No matter what I think about this, Leila, you’re my daughter, so you are not walking down that aisle alone."

I swallowed hard. Gretchen hissed, "Eye makeup!" and elbowed me, but her eyes had a new shine, too. It had been a long time since we’d done anything together as a family.

Marty took Gretchen’s arm. "Come on, beautiful. I’ll show you where to go."

She gave her hair a final pat and then blew me a kiss. "See you soon, sis."

The two of them left. My father continued to stare at me. Then he let out a sigh that seemed to come from deep inside him.

"You’re sure you want to do this?"

"I’m sure," I said in a steady voice.

He took my arm. My new current-repelling, ivory gloves only came to my wrists so he absorbed a shock, yet he concealed his wince behind a strained smile.

"I was afraid you’d say that."

I barely recognized the third floor. The normal furnishings were gone and the dark walls were covered with white silk. More silk hung from the ceiling, creating an elegant tenting effect. The hallway had flowers wrapped around white stone torches that were spaced with polished shields between them. Those shields picked up the firelight and reflected it, bathing the entire hallway with a golden glow. The scent to my newly sensitive nose made the air heavier and sweeter. Walking through it was like traversing an enchanted tunnel.

Marty and Gretchen entered the main doors to the ballroom. My father and I followed, and when we appeared in the entryway, organ music swelled, snatching away my gasp.

It wasn’t the ballroom’s new look that took my breath away, though the aisle formed from towering pillars of white roses and the massive antique chandeliers ablaze with hundreds of candles had transformed the room into a gothic dreamscape. It was all the faces that turned toward us. There had to be two thousand people, the sea of black tuxedos broken occasionally by splashes of color from women in formal gowns.

Had Vlad invited the entire town? I wondered in disbelief.

That thought vanished as I caught a glimpse of the groom. Vlad stood on a raised white dais, a canopy of intertwining iron vines rising several feet above him. He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo. How like him not to blend in. Instead, his ebony jacket had thick braiding around the shoulders, reminding me of what kings wore in official ceremonies. It buttoned to his neck, the high collar framing his strong, chiseled jaw line. His pants were also black, but the cloak that draped over his shoulders and pooled at his feet was scarlet. Its edges were trimmed with ermine, and a wide gold chain held it closed, a gold and jet pendant the size of Vlad’s fist hanging from the center.

In short, he was magnificent.

I walked down the aisle, barely noticing anyone else. Even the pressure from my father’s hand faded away. Vlad’s hair was brushed completely back, revealing his slight widow’s peak. The absence of those dark waves made his lean features, strong brows, and high cheekbones that much more striking, and his coppery-colored eyes seemed to penetrate into my very soul.

Come to me, they silently commanded. Even if I wanted to refuse, I didn’t think I could.

I was twenty feet away when fire snaked up the iron canopy, winding through all those intricately carved vines. My father stopped, his grip tightening to hold me back.

"Leila – "

"It’s all right," I said. I’d never fear fire with Vlad near.

Then I let my arm slip from my father’s grip, walking those last few feet alone. The canopy continued to blaze but not a stray spark dropped to the ground. By the time I climbed to the top of the dais and took Vlad’s hand, the iron had lightened from the intensity of the flames, until it looked like the metal canopy above us had turned into molten gold.

To say I’d always remember this moment would be an understatement.

I was so dazzled it took me a second to realize the dais had stairs behind it, too. A gray-haired man in a long white garment climbed up to us. Then he made the sign of the cross while intoning something in Latin. Once he was finished, everyone sat in near perfect unison. That sort of coordination told me the majority of our guests had to be vampires.

I had no idea you had so many friends! slipped through my mind before I realized how it sounded.

Vlad’s mouth quirked. Then, the minister? officiator? began speaking in English so I finally understood him.

"Dearest friends," he said with a heavy Italian accent. "We are here to witness the joining of this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony."