ultraviolence // kai anderson

blessed is this union

       We put our brushes down -- mine for tasteful blush, Lacey's for finishing touches on my complex hairstyle -- and we're done. Loosely, we aimed for a look reminiscent of Priscilla in her early days with Elvis. My hair isn't quite the beehive that hers was, but there's a definite bump that adds the perfect amount of volume, and just in front of it sits the thin strip of a headband. My eyes are accentuated by small, dark brown wings in a cat's eye look, I've attached the rounded press-on nails Lacey mercifully brought with her, and the string of pearls she wore at her own wedding are around my neck resting perfectly atop my collarbones. My upgraded dress is my something old, and my beloved ring is my something new. The necklace is my something borrowed, and my dear sister-to-be says Kai can be my something blue. For lack of a better option, I let her think she's a comedic genius.

   I look at her through the mirror where she stands behind me, and the second my face twists in any show of emotion she says, "Ah ah, there's no time to redo your makeup if you smudge it." But it sounds like a warning to herself as well.

   "Right," I sniffle and straighten my back. "I... really, really appreciate this though."

   She nods and places her hands on my shoulders, "It's what we do."

   Before I can ask if by we she means sisters, or our group looking out for each other, someone else is knocking on the door. My heart drops, but when I look at Lacey's face, she isn't fazed. In fact, she looks expectant, almost excited. As she disappears from the room without another word, I stand to follow her, making sure I don't force a single hair out of place.

   By the time I'm in the main room she's already opened the door, and a very formally dressed Dakota steps in. Their hair is pushed back but not overly gelled like I've seen too many times before, and tight-waisted black pants rise to their belly-button where a dark gray ruffled shirt with puffy shoulders is tucked in. I almost comment that they look like an old-school vampire, but am not sure they'd take it as the compliment I mean it to be.

   They notice me and do a slight bow, and present a small black box , "For the bride."

   "Thank you," I say with congenial confusion, and take the box. Inside is a thick band of black metal, seemingly the perfect size ring for Kai. I look back up at Dakota with an open mouth smile.

   "Didn't wanna leave Kai with nothing when it's time to exchange rings," they supply immediately. "But! That's not my wedding gift to you, that would be this."

   They move out of the way of the still open door, their arms dramatically gesturing to the hallway as they slide away seconds before my little brother walks in with an impish expression. I nearly drop the box, and my smile vanishes instantly. This is wrong, he's not supposed to mix with this world of mine. I'm only supposed to be his boring big sister-- not the homicidal, fugitive cult member that I really am.

   "What-" I looked around the faces of everyone in the now crowd in the room. "What are you doing here?"

   Jace shuts the door behind him and says, "Are you kidding? This is the most excitement I've had since I got that tattoo without mom knowing."

   "But you--" I pause, then, "you got a tattoo?" He grins and begins lifting the edge of his shirt to show me whatever he's got permanently etched on his rib cage but I shake my head, "Doesn't matter. You can't be here. Dakota, what were you thinking?"

   "Just a second," Jace moves to stand in front of them, and the movement almost looks a little too protective to be friendly. I raise my brows and want to ask, but don't get the chance. "I asked to come, and it took days and days of pestering to get them to tell me anything going on. Do you know how worried I've been about you? How much mom and dad are freaking out?"

   My gaze falls to the floor with something like shame as I ponder how scary the situation must be for anyone who cares about me back home. I even feel sorry for Eric who believes he's lost his son, his ex-wife, and is probably worried now about his daughter-in-law and nephew. Jace continues his speech.

   "I know something weird must be happening, I mean shit you're marrying Kai," he just about scoffs, but in disbelief rather than disdain. "But I don't care what kind of shady shit you're into, okay? No questions asked from me. I would've been your other witness but I'm not eighteen, so I'm here as a harmless guest. I'm not a narc: just your brother. Let me be here for this."

   I look him over and a corner of my mouth rises, "Well, you are already in a suit."

   "Exactly, and this shit is tight in my armpits, so, can we go?"

This earns an amused breath of relief from me, and with one last look at Lacey, who nods at me, the four of us exit the hotel room and are off to my waiting fiance.

//

   The downstairs ballroom looks a lot different in the daylight. The high corners of the room have intricate cream-white designs protruding and carved. Miniature, more simplified versions of the geometric design are copied onto the doors of the entrance as well. A color slightly darker than beige runs all the way around the base of the room, where the waxed wooden floors meet the walls. The single chandelier we saw the night we impersonated that newlywed couple is only the lowest hanging one of the bunch, the others are a good few yards closer to the ceiling, but they're all lit up now.

   The most important thing however, and without a doubt the most beautiful, stands with his back toward me down the center of rows and rows of empty velvet chairs; well, empty apart from our three guests who stare back at me now each with different levels of fond facial expressions.

   Though I know Kai would rather have had his hair up for this, he's left it down because he knows that's how I like it. His roots have been touched up and he's shifting his weight from one foot to the other-- one would almost say nervously, his hands clasped at his tailbone. He's somehow acquired a white button up to wear, the collar's position letting me know even from the back view that it's buttoned as high as possible. The older man behind the podium in front of him switches his gaze back and forth from Kai's face to mine, his cheerful look never faltering. He nods to my fiance once I'm only a few strides away, and Kai finally turns to look at me.

   He takes his lower lip into his mouth and looks to the ceiling after getting that first good glance at me, and we've simultaneously taken each other's breath away. When his eyes find me again, they're slow in their journey from the top of my hair to the tips of my shoes and back up. He shakes his head to one side while letting out a low, nearly silent whistle, then extends a hand to me. I place my manicured hand in his, and position myself directly in front of him without breaking eye contact.

   We're in a world all our own when the officiant begins speaking. Moments pass and the whole time Kai's got this serene grin, and a shy smile plays at my lips as well. I blink up at him, and he mouths, "Pretty girl."

   I'm sure by now the imitation blush wasn't necessary; my face is flushed and as warm as the rest of me as my heart threatens to pound right out of my chest. It's just now that I realize he didn't have to do any of this. All that had to happen was us signing a paper in front of a couple strangers. Could he have really wanted a wedding with me as much as I wanted one with him?

   His thumb rubs gently over my own, and only when that began could I tell there was a slight tremble to his hands. My eyes well with tears, and it takes me back to my own shaky hands that first time he laid his head on my lap when we were kids, how nervous and excited and anxious and honored I was to touch him. And yet that feeling was a tealight candle to the all-consuming fire I feel for him now.

    With prompting from the officiant, it was our turn to do the talking. Kai went first, and I melted with every word he spoke.
"I, Kai Anderson, take thee," and my name sounded like a song on his lips, "to be my wedded wife: to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish," he twists the ring on my finger, "till death do us part."

   After him, in an unwavering and proud voice I vow myself to Kai for eternity. If there's a time or place after this life, I'm his there too. The ring I'd gotten this morning slides onto his finger and finalizes our commitment.

   The officiant closes the booklet he'd been reading from and says, "Then by virtue of the authority vested in me as commissioner of civil marriages, I now pronounce you man and wife under the law."

   Kai's smug but always lovely grin is the last thing I see before my eyes close and I'm pulled to him with the gentlest grip he's ever had on the sides of my neck. Goosebumps rise over my arms when his mouth closes over mine, and without thinking instinct brings our bodies flush against each other. I can hear our friends and family clapping a few feet away, but they fade out from the overwhelming euphoria of the moment. My hands have risen up his back so we can pull each other as close as physics allow. He's clean shaven, so there's no stubble or resistance as we kiss; everything is smooth and warm and flawless in every conceivable way.

   I belong wholly to this man: emotionally, physically, mentally-- and now at last, legally.

   When the time-warping kiss ends, we stand momentarily with our eyes remaining closed and our foreheads together, just breathing each other in and soaking up this sacred moment. A flash from my right is the first thing other than Kai to get my attention. Lacey stands with a sheepish but open mouth grin, and points to her phone which faces us, letting me know she'd just snapped a picture.

   When I fondly roll my eyes at her then face Kai again, I see in my peripheral that the officiant has left his spot beside us, and all that's on the podium now is our marriage certificate that needs our signatures. My husband guides me around to the correct side with a hand on my lower back, and picks up the pen first. He signs his full name and looks proudly at me, but his hand closes over mine when I reach for the pen myself.

   I look over and up at him expectantly, and his brows knit as he tells me with uncertainty, "I won't always know how to do this marriage thing." He needs a second to choose his next words and I grant it to him, turning to face him fully and hoping my face conveys patience and understanding. "But I'm willing to... learn, for you."

   His rarely displayed vulnerability is as overwhelmingly flattering as it always is when it shows up, and I know it's only me who has ever or will ever get to see this side of him. I kiss one side of his face and caress the other, then offer a last reassuring smile before writing my own signature on the line below his.

Finally, our last names are the same.