Fanged Love - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,82

I’m just so excited,” she whispers before returning her voice to a normal volume for the benefit of my family. “Wait until you see the banquet hall and ballroom. You’re going to love it! Now time for pictures.” She makes us pose for what seems like an hour. “Okay. I think a hundred pics of this moment should do it for the wedding album. Don’t want to be late.”

A hundred photos of just that? How big will this album be?

My dad helps me into the carriage, followed by the rest of my family, and then joins us. Neli closes the door.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” I ask her.

“I want to get some photos of you driving away. I’ll see you in a minute.”

I hope she doesn’t beat us there and open the carriage door. My family will definitely get suspicious. Or freak out.

The driver, who’s sitting outside at the front of the carriage, starts pulling away. “Neli”—I lean my head out the little window—“I forgot to ask, who is officiating the wedding?”

“An old friend, Nicephorus.”

What a strange name. I sit back in the carriage, trying to keep my hoop from smacking my chin and showing off my red silk lingerie to my family. Neli insisted I wear some very skimpy teddy outfit made of lace from Boz’s hometown. It’s supposed to be good luck.

Good luck. Does such a thing exist for a vampire? Luck? Goodness? “Oh, God. I don’t feel so well.” I’m marrying a vampire. I’m marrying a vampire! An unnatural creature of the night. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Stella, honey, just breathe,” says Mom.

“It’s normal to have wedding-day jitters,” Dad adds. “And just remember, your mom and I would never allow you to marry some creep. Boz is a good man, and I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You’re making the right choice—and if I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t have sold the winery to him.”

“Boz is awesome!” Eliza says.

“Truly,” Mabel says.

I suddenly just don’t know. It’s all happening so fast.

The carriage arrives, and there’s a photographer waiting to greet us. “Oh, thank God.” I’m not up to explaining Neli’s supernatural speed. I’ve got enough to worry about.

I step out first, followed by my family. According to Neli, it’s tradition for both parents to give the bride away to her new “vampire lord.” Boz assured me that wording was simply the ancient nomenclature and did not mean he would own me: “We will be equals in every way, Stella. Except in bed. I will be your slave and dedicate myself to your every whim, your pleasure.” I liked that answer. A lot.

We pass through the open front door, and there is music playing that reminds me of something I heard in a movie once. Flutes and drums. It has a Renaissance vibe. I wonder if jugglers and fire-breathers are waiting in the ballroom. I hate that I had no say in planning this wedding. I love planning! What was I thinking? This is all wrong!

I stop. “I can’t do this.” But just as I speak those words, Neli appears just outside the closed doors of the ballroom. I didn’t notice before, but she’s wearing a strange-looking red and black milkmaid outfit with a little apron. Her red hair is now braided in two pigtails.

“Let me guess,” I snap, “your outfit is tradition.” I don’t want to say anything to insult her because I know how hard she’s worked to put this wedding together, but I can’t contain my feelings. “I’m sorry. None of this is how I imagined.”

She gives me a smile, one that I know is genuine because it lights up her green eyes. “Stella, that’s the point.”

“Sorry?”

“The tradition isn’t red and black or anyone having to wear a particular outfit. The custom dictates that the colors, the theme, the music, and even the food must all be something unique. It is a symbol of the couple. There has never been a love like yours, because there has never been another Boz and Stella. There never will be. Therefore, your wedding can’t look like anyone else’s.”

Oh my God. That’s kind of beautiful.

“Awww…how romantic,” Mom says.

“Strange,” says my dad. “I was researching Romanian weddings and never read anything about that.”

“It’s a very, very old custom from Boz’s ancestral village,” Neli chimes in.

Yeah. I bet it’s old. “I think it’s a wonderful tradition.” The nontraditional wedding as a symbol of the couple’s one-of-a-kind love. “Why didn’t you mention it before?”

“And ruin the surprise?”