Sinjin, A Vampire Romance

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bryn

The evening of Jolie and Rand's wedding was raining, windy and bitterly cold. As I stood in Jolie's bedroom with her, Christa and Klaasje, I couldn't help wincing as the skeletal trees outside rapped against the windows, scratching the glass with their bare branches. Moments later, a volley of lightning lit up the stormy sky and the rain began pounding in earnest.

"Isn't rain supposed to be good luck on your wedding day?" Jolie asked with a hesitant smile. "Isn't that what everyone always says?"

I turned to face her from where I'd been frowning at myself in the mirror, not appreciating the dress I had to wear as maid of honor. Granted, I'd never heard of a maid of honor decked out in fighting gear, but that didn't make dress-wearing any easier for me. "Who cares what everyone says?" I asked her before realizing my voice sounded a bit strident, so I smiled warmly. "You and Rand were meant for one another, which means it doesn't matter whether it's sunny or raining tonight. All that matters is that tonight is the first night of your happily ever after."

Jolie smiled at me, gratitude in her eyes. "You're right."

"Now, if I could just feel halfway normal in this dress, the night could start looking up," I grumbled as I turned back around to face myself in the full-length mirror. My hair cascaded over my bare shoulders in an array of curls, the section at the top of my head pulled back tightly into a hairband. The dress was satin, the color of champagne, and very fitted, so much so that I found it difficult to walk in the pencil skirt. The bodice of the dress was just as tight as the rest of it, which made my breasts look like they were merely seconds from exploding out of the top. In fact, I was pretty sure that if I inhaled deeply enough, I'd blow the zipper in the back. As it was, the material stretched so tightly across my bust, I imagined the zipper was already screaming. If not for the thread-thin spaghetti straps, I didn't think the top would even stay up. Feeling my hair tickling my right elbow, I pushed it behind my shoulder before the rose corsage on my wrist got stuck in my hair yet again.

"Ugh," I muttered as I glanced up at all three of the women surrounding me. "I don't know how you all are able to function when dressed like this."

"Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to appeal to men," Christa responded with a dramatic sigh.

I looked at her and frowned, my eyebrows furrowing in the middle of my forehead. "The day I make a sacrifice for a man is the day I give you all permission to strike me dead, right where I stand."

I heard Klaasje laugh as she approached me, wearing an identical version of the dress I wore. Christa was too. Only they both seemed way more comfortable in theirs. "You look beautiful, Bryn," Klaasje commented as she presented me with my headpiece. It was a wreath of white daisies, woven into a circle with various lengths of white, satin ribbons spilling from the back. It was meant to sit atop our heads, with the ribbons flowing down on our hair. Mathilda created them for each of us; and while I thought they looked beautiful on my sister, Christa and Klaasje, I wasn't thrilled with the idea of wearing one, myself. It was just the complete antithesis to utilitarian attire.

After Klaasje plopped the delicate thing on my head and trailed the long, flowing silk ribbons over my shoulder, I frowned. Klaasje laughed again. "Repeat after me: it's just a dress and I'll survive wearing it," she said.

I shook my head and sighed at the same time. "It's so tight, I'm not sure I'll survive wearing it," I grumbled. Then my feet reminded me that they were being pinched to no end in the three-inch heels Jolie insisted I wear. "And if the dress doesn't suffocate me to death, these heels are so high, I can just imagine myself tripping and breaking my neck."

"She's got a point," Christa announced as she studied me, tapping her manicured fingers against her lips. "Have you seen her trying to walk in them? She's not exactly graceful." Then she faced Jolie. "Maybe someone should hold onto her while we're walking down the aisle?"