20. desire for defiance

20

desire for defiance

Lucynda

I deserve a medal. A standing ovation; take a bow and encore.

I played my part like a Starlette on the big screen. And I think he bought it.

After the stunt he pulled on me, my blood was boiling. But then to find him cozying up in the corner with some girl while he drank from her—again, might I add—I started to feel more than angry. I saw red. Part of me wanted to be the girl trapped under him, so eventually I did offer myself up, recognizing that I might have felt slight jealousy because if I am to be his wife, I don’t want his mouth on any other girl.

I won’t lie, he caught me off guard when he went and slipped his fingers under my dress. I was not expecting that. And it felt so fucking good. So good that I had to make him stop or else I wouldn’t have been able to keep my composure long enough to feed him my innocent bullshit.

But God did I want it.

I lied about everything. About never having touched myself, not knowing what it feels like to have an orgasm, I pretended to sympathize with his demons and I made him feel sorry for mine. The only thing I was truthful about was wanting to repay him for freeing me of my monster. That was the truth. And I did, so now I owe him no debts. I let him feed from me like the blood sucker he is and now, now I will show him what it really means to live in the shadows of darkness.

My betrayal might seem trivial and puerile. I recognize that, but it’s all I have right now. Little by little, Rivian is feeding this beast inside of me that wants nothing more than to come out and play because he won’t give me a chance to do otherwise. And I know he’s lying to himself too.

I fear that he's pushing this false narrative for reasons that I may never know and worse of all I worry that he will take that lie to his grave. That for a vampire could be a very, very long time. If he’s going to force himself to only see me as a means to an end, then I plan to give him exactly what he wants from me. Darkness. Because that’s all I’m good for according to him. And I can’t stand around and be gaslit while I attempt to play house, forced to live yet another life trapped beneath the shadows of monsters.

But for his sake, he might want to reconsider. Eventually, compression of darkness will erupt and I won’t care who’s in my way when mine does.

October 16th – 3 days until the wedding

"Do you know what style or brand you're looking for?" The tall, red-headed sales consultant asks me, walking over to us as we stand by the front door waiting to be brought to the back for our appointment. An appointment I didn't know I had until about forty minutes ago seeing as I slept in that comfortable ass bed until nearly ten this morning—the longest I've ever slept in my life.

I look over at Troy who just shrugs her shoulders at me, standing nearby as we linger in the lobby of this wedding dress boutique.

"Umm, no?" I say it as a question. "I don't even know when my wedding day is." I look around the shop feeling overwhelmed and crowded with all the bright white dresses floating around, looking like I might be preparing for an over-the-top prom turned debutante ball.

While I never really had deep thoughts about wedding planning, I know that I feel uncomfortable while being blinded by the whites of these dresses.

"It's in three days." Troy squeaks up from next to me and I twist my head like a possessed doll to look at her. This is really fucking happening and it's happening fast.

She's wearing black leather everything. Black leather pants, a black leather jacket, black leather boots. Everything matches her wavy hair hanging loose over her shoulders. The only thing not black is the white tank under her jacket and the blue in her eyes.

"What?" She holds up her hands in defense. "Sorry. I figured you and your fiancé talked about these things." She leans against the wall and twirls a strand of her long black hair around her finger.

I look back at the sales consultant with wide eyes. She smiles at me with an embarrassing look on her face.

"Why are you even here, Troian?" I ask as the red-haired woman leads us to the back of the studio.

Rivian made sure to rent the whole boutique out just for us. What a gentleman . Though part of me wishes that either I was by myself for this wretched chore or that maybe he would have wanted to come instead.

I haven't seen him since our run-in in the basement which brings me memories in waves of heat. Both desire and fury dancing in my head.

"I'm your maid of honor," she replies to me as we get settled into the big pink cushion bench the lady signaled us to sit at before disappearing into the back.

"I'm sorry?" I feel my eye twitch.

"Tradition. Kind of." She shrugs her shoulders again.

I'm starting to learn that Troian only has a few gestures she responds with. One shoulder shrug. Two shoulder shrugs. And shrugging of the shoulders while leaning on something. I actually aspire to be her; seemingly in a constant state of not giving a fuck.

"Don't I get a say in who my maid of honor is?"

We sit down and put about five feet between us.

"Sure. Who are your options?" She smirks at me as she twists her phone around between her fingers.

I think about how I might have had Griselda here with me instead. Long ago when we were ten, that might have still been true. Or how much of a train wreck things could have been if Tweedledee and Tweedledum were my bride's maids.

"Touche," I say to her, knowing that I could have had it worse. That I actually have had it worse.

"Listen, I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot the first time we met?" Troy shifts her position to cross her leg over her knees, leaning back into the chair as she stares at her cell phone.

"I don't think so. I think you got off on the wrong foot when you tripped out of the candy store and fell into me. By the way, you owe me a new candle." I quip and a playful smirk curls across her face.

"Yes, ma'am." She salutes.

"None of that please."

"Sorry, it's the rules."

"It's the rules that you have to call me ma'am ?" I give her a questioning look.

"Your highness. Your majesty. Queen. Ma'am. You name it."

"You can't just call me Lucynda?"

"Well, I'm not really supposed to," she explains.

"And what if, as your queen, I ask you to call me Lucynda?" I sit back in the chair as well, starting to realize how real this whole situation is about to get, forget about the fact that I'm about to pick out a wedding dress.

"Then I guess I will call you Lucynda." She shrugs again, clicking her tongue this time.

"Good."

A few moments of silence pass us by, not even the wind from outside can be heard swaying through the trees. I look across the street at the bookstore, I can see it a few stores down.

I miss it already. I decided that I didn’t want to sell it but I can’t very well operate it while I’m off getting hitched to a vampire, so there it sits dormant and lonely.

"So, what can I expect out of this whole ordeal?" I decide to break the silence and see if I can pick Troy's brain. She has to have some kind of knowledge as to what I'm expected to do with the future title of queen if my own soon-to-be husband won't cough up any answers.

"You mean, you guys haven't really talked about it?"

"Honestly, no. I mean, I did get some answers out of him, but all I really know is that I'm his soulmate, or whatever, and he has to follow through with that in marriage in order to become king." I think over the words I just spoke trying to figure out how I'm supposed to fit in to all this, and why I even truly want it? To prove a point to someone? To myself?

"Why would you need to prove a point to yourself?" Troy infiltrates my thoughts and an anxious blush creeps up my pale skin.

"Can you not?" I ask her rudely.

"I can not, but sometimes I can't help it. Reading minds is just too good."

"Can everyone read my mind?"

"If I focus on it, yes I can.” Her eyes dance around me as she pretends to hone in on my mind.

"Well, focus on something else," I warn her.

"Honestly, just ask him. I know Rivian can seem like a hard ass and maybe even a little bit of a jerk. He isn't labeled the Dark Prince for a reason.”

“That’s comforting .” Chills accost me as I think of what that could mean. But honestly, I like the sound of it.

“But he takes the respect of his kingdom very seriously and if you simply just ask him, he'll tell you everything you need to know."

I know she's not wrong. He's been pretty good at answering me this far, albeit cryptic or not.

"I will tell you-" She leans forward and places her elbows on her knees. "There's kind of a silly little vampy kind of running loose killing people for no real reason.” Her tone is playful as she leans in, covering her mouth to tell me the secret. “A rogue we call it. But in all seriousness, murder without reason is grounds for conviction of treason by the Faction. Rivian unmarried leaves this kingdom at risk of falling to the blame of such because of our past." Her words pelt me like thick, heavy stones one by one. What the hell does any of that mean?

I don't have time to process the questions I want to ask her next before the lady helping us makes a reappearance.

"Alright then." The dress consultant comes out from behind a curtain with a rack full of potential dresses. Suddenly, I feel a pit form in my stomach. It feels vile but then turns into a flutter of nerves.

I'm about to get married soon. And this might be my only time to live out a fairytale dream despite all the information I'd just been fed.

Was I ever the little girl who dreamt of getting married? No, not really. I was trying to survive my father's abuse and the bullying of his step-daughters. But now that I know it's actually in line with my future—by choice or not—I might as well enjoy this moment to the fullest.

"So, what kind of vibes are we going for?" The lady with legs for days asks us as she runs her hands gently against the fabrics of all the dress options displayed for us.

"White or ivory," Troian answers for me, irritation bubbling inside me. So much for enjoying this to the fullest.

"Are there traditions about what I should and shouldn't wear?" I decide to ask, wondering why she spoke up for me so quickly.

"Actually, yes, but Rivian seems to be steering away from his own intended traditions so, now that I think about it, I don't see why you can't." She shrugs with a cute smirk drawn on her face, her hair falls forward before she blows it out of her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Curiosity getting the best of me, I turn my body toward Troy and completely ignore the sales rep.

"Well, typically the groom wears white if the marriage is of strict convenience," she says.

"And I take it he's not wearing white then?"

"Correct. And only grooms of non-royal blood are allowed to wear black."

"Okay, so what color is he wearing then?"

"Maroon," she tells me, a weird look on her face as if it might be out of character for Rivian to want to wear a maroon suit to his wedding.

An image of him standing at the altar, waiting for me, flashes through my head and butterflies attack my insides. Fuck, that would do it for me. That would be what ruins my plans to just be his perfect muse, the villain he so craves me to be.

"And what, might I ask, does the color maroon detail?" I turn my attention back to the conversation rather than visions of Rivian in a wedding tux.

"Well, typically, it would mean he's marrying for love. But he claims he's only wearing it because it was his mom's favorite color."

"His mom." The thought of love creeps back into my mind. Knowing that he's wearing a color that represents his mom sends little sparks of something sweet beating into my chest. He isn't heartless. That eases my mind a bit. Gives me hope though I am aware might be for nothing.

"Yeah, she uh . . . well, she's not around anymore." I can hear in her tone that the topic might be a tough one. And I don't press her on the matter because it sounds like it's not her story to tell but it dawns on me that she said his mom .

"Wait, so you're not his biological sister?"

"Technically, half. Travois and I-"

"Travois?" Thoughts of the man from the masquerade party filter back through my head. His gloved hand and the glint of silver in his eyes along with the warning he so sweetly presented me.

"Yeah, have you had the pleasure to meet him yet?" She rolls her eyes at his mention which makes me wonder what the problem with him is.

I knew I got an eerie feeling when he greeted me at the party, but I didn’t know that he was connected to all of this as well.

"Yes, I actually did. At the masquerade." I recall his ominous words and his guide back to the hallway where I kissed my fate with a curious mind.

"Right. Well, we are Rivian's half siblings. Same dad, different moms. Our mother was the former queen before she…" Troian trails off and I can see sorrow color her features.

"Before she what?" I decide to ask her, even though I know I shouldn't pry too much but they can’t fault me for wanting to know more. Though, I don't get much of a chance to receive an answer anyway before we're interrupted.

"Okay so here are some dresses for you to try on." The boutique worker seems to have missed much of our conversation while she pulled some dresses that fit the likes of what Troy suggested to her.

"What does white and ivory mean for me?" I ask Troy.

"Do you really care?" She seems to have changed her bubbly personality into something a little sterner when she answers me with irritation lining her tone.

"No, but I might as well learn everything I need to know." I try to ease her back into the friendly conversation we were just having by attempting to match her sassy banter. I hope I didn't ruin her mood by trying to push the question about her mom.

"Well, white is marriage of convenience,” she runs her finger along one of the dresses, “and ivory is for love." Her answer is somewhat short, but I move past it.

I look at the options laid out in front of me. I'm seemingly marrying for neither of those reasons, according to my dark price.

The dresses displayed before us all seem like viable options that I would choose had I intended to plan my own traditional wedding. But I feel salty as I examine the options in front of me, feeling robbed in a sense. There are moments where I feel like I have optimism when it comes to this relationship. I see parts of Rivian that I know he’s trying to hide and I want him to let me see those parts of him closer. But then he pulls shit like he did last night and says things that lead me to believe he’s not capable of more than being a villainous jerk and it's those moments I think about when I feel like I could cause my own chaos.

I could do this the easy way. Roll over and pick out one of these dresses before me like a good girl, I'm sure that's what Rivian wants me to do. But I'm not a puppet that he can just string along. I won't allow him to make me do whatever he wants. I want him to know that I will be his wife and I will be his queen. But I also want him to know that I am not as easy to manipulate as he anticipated.

"What do you have in black?" I turn to ask the boutique associate, a devious tone lacing my voice as I let trouble fall from my tongue.

"No, Lucynda. I don't think that's a good idea." I turn my head back to Troy who is now standing from the bench, a look of warning on her face.

"Why?"

"There hasn't been a bride ever who wore black since…" again, she seems to trail off. I'm getting really tired of not getting complete thoughts or explanations.

"Since who? Count Dracula's bride?" I turn back and nod my head at the associate, but she seems to stay planted in her place while she decides who to listen to. I wonder if she's compelled.

"I'm being serious." Troy stares at me with urgency to listen to her. But if Rivian can wear whatever color he chooses, then so can I, surely.

"Me too." Her warning doesn't go unnoticed and as nice as she's been to have accompany me today, I really don't care what she has to say right now.

"The last bride who wore black to her wedding got decapitated by her husband. It's meant to be an ancient curse that we don't really want to fuck around with to find out." She stuffs her hands in her pockets. Her face is grave and her tone is stone cold. She really believes that there's a curse that will plague the Society if I choose to wear black to my wedding. But she's forgetting. It is my wedding .

"Well, supposedly, you also have this stupid lore that refers to soulmates. And apparently wearing maroon is meant to be a sign of love yet, here I am being trapped into this marriage as a human girl whose soulmate is a literal blood-sucking vampire, who swears he wants nothing to do with me, and this marriage is only one of power for your weird secret society." I spit the words at her with a less amiable tone than I've been using this whole time with her, knowing that I spoke at a rapid pace.

"What the fuck did you just say?" We both snap our heads over to the sales lady who's been standing here the whole time, listening to us talk about things that human people like myself probably aren't used to hearing about in a casual conversation.

"Shit." I make a mental note to start paying attention to my surroundings when I speak out loud next time. I don't really know what I'm actually allowed to say and what I'm not allowed to say.

I hear a rough sigh leave Troy and I hate knowing that I was sloppy.

"I've got this." Troy rolls her eyes as she walks past me to the woman.

I watch carefully as she grabs the girl by her shoulders and looks her dead in the eyes.

"You will forget everything you just heard from either of us. You're going to go back and find me a black wedding dress for my friend here and you're going to sell it to us free of charge." Troy speaks to her in slow calculated words, making sure that everything sticks the way she intends it to.

"I'll be right back," the woman says to her almost robotically.

That strikes a memory.

The way my father spoke to me that night, like he had no control over his actions.

Because Rivian compelled him to leave me alone.

Something warm tickles my belly and I can't ignore the way it makes me feel to think about how he really did save me from him.

"Thanks," I say to Troy, feeling like a complete ass but also, overthinking the fact that she called me her friend just now.

"No worries, but next time, please watch what you're saying and around who. Compelling people gets tiring sometimes." She flops back down on the chair behind us.

"Does it?" I raise my brow at her.

"Honestly, everything gets tiring as a vampire. If I’m being honest. Don’t get me wrong, I do love doing anything I want. But sometimes I find myself wanting more out of a life that is meant to last forever." I would have never guessed that someone as lively as Troian would be experiencing feelings like that, not loving her life to the fullest.

“I feel that,” I absentmindedly agree with her and this causes her to look over at me in pity.

But if I’m being honest with myself, everything she listed off sounds more intriguing to me by the minute. I'd be able to get anyone to do anything I wanted.

"Good because after the blood bind, it's all yours." She pulls her phone back out and scrolls through whatever social app she pulls up, not hiding the fact that she just pulled my thoughts from me again.

"Blood bind?" That’s the second time I’ve heard of that. “What is that?” I ask.

This causes Troian to sit up in shock and looks at me dumbfounded.

"You mean Rivian hasn't talked to you about the blood bind?"

"Rivian and I don't get along half the time, Troy." I shrug my shoulders feeling slight defeat.

"Well, I'm not going there. You'll have to ask him."

It’s hopeless. All I want is to be able to understand this life I'm about to be married into. For fuck's sake, can anyone just do me that favor?

"This is the only black dress I have." The sales lady comes back with a dress that literally takes my breath away.

It's pure black from head to toe. The corset bodice is a strapless neckline with detachable sleeves that puff out in a sheer mesh material and cuff at the wrists, leaving the shoulder area completely exposed. The rest of the dress flows out with tulle, creating dimension and volume. The train stretches out a good twelve inches past the hem of the dress which drops all the way down to the floor.

It's fucking stunning.

"I'll take it," I tell her as I hand her my card. I know Troy told her to give it to me for free, but I can't in good conscience succumb to that kind of entitlement yet. Plus, my money probably means nothing to the Society so I might as well use it while I can.

"Are you sure you want to do this Lucynda?" Troian stands up next to me and gives me a look of concern. She might believe in something as silly as wearing a forbidden color to a wedding, but until I start getting treated like someone who belongs to this kingdom, I'm going to do things my way.

I give her a glance, a plea to not say anything to Rivian. I want him to see my dress for the first time when I walk down the aisle. I want him to see just how devastating his future wife can really be. I want him to feel so fucking sorry for ever doubting that I can be anything more than just a means to power for his stupid Society and then I want to see the look on his face when he realizes that I want nothing to do with him.

I grin at Troy and then at the lady holding my dress who seems to be waiting for my answer.

"More than anything."