This was the first time in history that vampires and humans were in the same space without being at each other's throats. However, the lack of activities and music heightened her nervousness to an excessive degree. A shiver ran down her spine as she walked down between the two groups, her knees feeling weak, barely holding her up.
She kept her head down as she walked and folded her arms over her stomach as if to shield herself from the eyes that followed her down the long aisle that seemed to stretch on forever. The air felt too thick, pressing down on her like a weight, and a thousand unseen eyes seemed to be watching, judging her. She couldn't breathe. She had to get out. Now. She couldn't do this. She didn't want to shoulder the weight of everyone and her family. She would have to disappoint them again.
The veil over her face blurred everything, but she knew where she was headed.
To him. And she did not want to.
The mad vampire was standing motionless at the end of the aisle, waiting.
Belle wanted to turn and run far away from the hall, but it was too late. She was standing right before her groom, and the moment she made the attempt to turn and run, she tripped over the front hem of her skirt and went falling. Her stomach lurched as she thought she would fall and embarrass herself, but her body never met the unforgiving ground as his arm snaked around her waist, firm and strong, stopping her fall.
The press of his palm against her waist sent heat bleeding through the layers of her dress, searing through the cold of the hall. She sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn't supposed to be warm. Vampires were never warm; they were cold creatures inside and out.
The veil over her face shifted, slipping just enough for her to see half of his face that loomed over hers, and her breath caught in her throat. The hall seemed to dim for a moment as her eyes met the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. They were so dark it was like staring into an abyss of darkness with no end. His eyes didn't even reflect the light. Vampires' eyes were known to be blood red—his weren't. And not only were his eyes black, but his hair was also deep blue and was swept smoothly on his head as he frowned down at her.
But he wasn't looking at her. Not really. His gaze was locked above her brow, staring where the veil had moved. Staring hard without letting go, even though he had stopped her from embarrassing herself by falling. From his face, he was nothing like the rumors had said. He was handsome. Though the rumors had not called his appearance hideous, she had expected him to be just that and had dreaded looking into his red eyes.
She was terrified of vampires, as they had traumatized her in her childhood, and their red eyes had become her worst nightmare. They were the reason she became so timid and shy about her appearance. She had a scar above her brow that was caused by a vampire, and many considered it ugly.
She had been happy to have a veil over her face for two reasons: to hide the scar and to prevent herself from having to see her groom's red eyes. But now that she saw that he didn't have red eyes nor cold hands, she felt a momentary relief wash over her. He also smelled quite nice.
She tried to straighten herself, but his grip remained firm around her waist, and his body was slightly bent forward while hers was bent backward, his fingers spanning her waist as though measuring something unseen. He didn't blink. Didn't make any attempt to let go. What was wrong with him?
A shiver coiled down her spine. They said he was mad. Though he didn't seem like a madman, no normal man would hold her like this while everyone was watching and waiting impatiently for the dreadful wedding to be over with. It was obvious the humans couldn't wait for the vampires to leave their lands and the vampires could also not wait to get the hell out of there.
From the side of her eye, she saw movement. It was a man from the vampire side. He walked up to them and tapped her groom's shoulder, then whispered sternly into his ear before he let her go. Not quite really—he didn't let her go because he did something that surprised her.
He released her waist and swiftly reached out to fix her veil that had shifted, wordlessly and attentively. Then his large, unusually warm hand found her gloved one and gripped it in a hold she could only think was possessive for a man who did not know her. She felt an unwanted warmth in her stomach.
Through her veiled face, she saw his shoulders were wide, his chest broad, and the dim light of the hall touched his deep blue hair with gold. His face was as hard as his body, but his eyes were what set him apart from his kind and even the humans, because she'd never seen a human with such eyes before. He had just a small amount of white in them, and the dark orb was large.
When they sat on a sofa set for the ceremony, she realized her groom was still holding her hand, and his thumb traced the pattern of stitching on the back of her glove. Over and over, his thumb moved—hot, quick patterns, the pressure pulsing heat through her limbs. She wondered if the man marrying them or her father, who sat next to them, noticed her hand was on her groom's lap, because they both seemed to be staring at them strangely. She knew if this veil wasn't covering her face, she would have been embarrassed.
She wasn't afraid yet because they were still in her lands, and the vampires had signed a paper agreeing not to harm her. She would be cared for and looked after. She did not trust those words, because even though the humans had signed a peace treaty, they were still planning to end the vampires, and this marriage was one step ahead of that plan.
She wished he would release her hand. No man had touched her hand in such a way, and he was making her uncomfortable in some sort of way.
"Lord Rohan Dagon, do you take Isabelle Dawson as your wedded wife? If yes, please sign your name on the marriage register and take your bride back with you," said the minister marrying them. He was impatient and uncomfortable just like everyone in the hall.
The weddings she attended before never happened like this. Hers was being rushed without them even taking vows or oaths of forever. This was not how she had dreamed of being married someday, and it brought tears to her eyes when the paper was presented to her groom to sign his name on the agreement documents.
Rohan took the document he was asked to sign. He carefully dipped his pen in the ink and bent down to write but caught sight of the droplet of black ink hanging on the nib in a perfect, round sphere. The hall and everything around him dimmed, and he stared at the perfect shape. He wished time would freeze and the ink would never drop on the paper. He wished he could freeze it in that shape, so he paused to treasure it before it would fall and scatter forever. He held his breath, forgetting for a moment where he was.
Belle stared at her groom, who seemed to be caught in a trance-like state as he watched the ink droplet. She thought he was thinking through his decision to marry, but it seemed that wasn't the case. She heard murmurs from the vampires in the hall.
"Fucking hell! He's caught in his madness again. Someone snap him out—we don't have forever in this land to wait on him!"
The man who had talked into his ear when he held her earlier came back again. She watched him shake her groom's shoulder, and the ink he was staring at dropped onto the paper, breaking his concentration. But his eyes narrowed and darkened when they met the man's. A silent communication seemed to pass between them. His gaze flicked over her, a small frown on his face, then he reached out and gripped her hand, which she had pulled back when he was distracted, back into his before he signed the paper with his other hand.
And just like that, she was married to him.
Belle felt like crying, weeping, and screaming at everyone that she had made a mistake and wanted to take back her words, but it was too late. She was now Isabelle Rohan Dagon. She did not want to be his wife or leave her home and land.
When the wedding was over, no one came forward to bid her farewell, not even her parents, as they stood at a distance from her, probably because her husband—it sounded strange to consider him that, but for as long as she stayed in that land, she would have to learn to do that—was holding tightly to her hand. No one would step forward when a man like him was close.
The Dawson maids, whom she had come to consider friends, watched her with misery and pity as they waved at her. Her mother had tears in her eyes, and Belle decided it was because they would miss her. She did not want to think of any other reason beyond that, nor did she want to acknowledge that they had pushed her into this to save their precious daughter.
Her father had given her a strict warning that morning to focus on her mission and not disappoint their people. He hadn't said he would miss her, nor had he hugged her.
But regardless, she would miss them.
She searched the crowd with her eyes until they fell on a tall man with blue eyes—Jamie. He stood at the back, staring at her with pained eyes, and the look in them tightened her heart, making her want to run to him. He was everything she wanted. Marrying him would have been simple. She longed for a simple and loving life. But knowing that if she kept looking at him, she might break, she tore her gaze away and let her husband lead her out of the hall.
Would this marriage be her undoing? Would she even live long enough to betray her husband when they got to Nightbrook?
She did not want to show it, but she was terrified of her future.