Lucifer's Bride [Complete]

02

"Come on," she grips my shoulders and spins me around. "Your wedding starts in ten minutes. We have to get you down to the service."

I am shoved towards the door of my dressing room, laughing to myself. My family and I have never been Catholic; we're not affiliated with any religion whatsoever. But Lucifer himself has chosen to have the wedding in one of California's most prominent cathedrals. It's the ultimate middle finger to God himself.

My mother and I rush out the door, followed closely by my bridesmaids. They're all succubae, really. No one I know or care about. They're just here to add to the ceremony. The five of them are gorgeous, voluptuous and completely heartless.

My maid of honor, Leyna, follows close behind me. I know she's staring daggers at the back of my head, but I'm too panicked to care. She's tall, with long cherry-red hair, pale skin and bright yellow eyes. She's also insanely jealous that I get to marry Lucifer and she doesn't. Leyna's had a crush on her master for centuries, trying in vain to get him to notice her over the so-called 'skinny human girls' like me. But her luck has run out, and now she's pissed because I get the honor she's been craving.

Believe me, Leyna. If I could put you in my place, I would.

We race down the intricate halls of the cathedral, rushing past carved statues of saints and dead priests. I can almost feel the rage radiating off my soul-sucking bridesmaids. They hate the religious crap as much as I hate my situation. This is the last place any of us want to be.

We finally stop just outside the main pathway of the church, hiding behind one of the massive stone walls. There's a long red velvet carpet laid out on the cold marble floor of the church. It's covered in dead flower petals. How fitting

Across from us, on the other side of the entrance, a line of groomsmen -- all high-ranking demons -- waits for their cue to start the procession. My mother ushers my bridesmaids forward, lining them up in their respective spots. Leyna passes me for the last time in my unmarried life, glaring at me and turning up her nose at my obvious humanness. I roll my eyes at her and turn to face the wall, pressing my forehead to the cool stone. The cold feels good and allows me to gather myself for a moment.

My mother rushes back to me, turning me so I face her. She runs her hands over my dress and hair, making sure nothing is out of place. An unknown male demon races up to us from around the corner, handing me a bouquet of dead roses and bowing his head slightly. He slinks back into the main hall of the cathedral, taking his seat in the pews.

My mother's warm hands cup may face, forcing my head up so I have to look at her. She smiles softly at me, reaching out to bush my cheek with her fingers.

"You look so beautiful," she whispers.

I give the best smile I can force. Her pep talks are the last thing I want to hear right now.

She laughs to herself, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Your father would have had a heart attack looking at you now."

That makes me smile. I remember my father as the most loving, kind, compassionate man I've ever known. The person who taught me how to read, who helped me with my homework, who comforted me after every nightmare. Tears threaten to escape my eyes. He didn't deserve to die the way he did, crushed between two hulking beasts of metal. He died because my mother wanted power, because she couldn't care less about what happened to him as long as she got what she wanted.

But he died being my father and loving me. That makes my mother's sacrifices even harder to bear.

I narrow my eyes at my mother. "He's not here to see this because of you," I whisper.

She sighs and tries to guilt-trip me again. "Don't do this. He wouldn't want to see you upset on your wedding day."

I bite down on my lip, holding back all the hateful words I want to say. They won't do me any good here. Besides, she hasn't gotten off scot-free from her deal. She'll have to pay up the moment this wedding is over. I can let loose then.

I jerk my head out of her hands, turning my gaze to the wall again. "Go sit down."

She sighs again and nods, patting my shoulder gently before she turns to leave.

Wow, mom. How much more love could you show to me in one day? You're smothering me.

She rounds the corner of the wall I'm hiding behind, disappearing from view as she goes to take her seat. Music starts, a soft, rhythmic melody, and I watch as the pairs of demons and succubae start their walk down the aisle. I sigh and press my head against the cool stones again, trying to clear my head of any emotions.

A soft tap on my shoulder brings me out of my pity-party. I turn to see Richard standing beside me, giving me the warmest smile he can muster on a day like this. His blonde hair is combed back, and his warm amber eyes smile at me in the sunlight. He's dressed in a beautifully tailored tuxedo, with silver cufflinks gleaming on his sleeves and a navy tie. For an old English royal who will never see the throne, he looks - dare I say it? - dashing.

"You alright?" he asks in his signature upper-crust British drawl.

I smile at him. "About as good as I'm going to get."

He smiles wider. "I know. Days like this, you don't really feeling dancing, do you?"

I shake my head. "Not really."

"Hey." He loops his arm around my shoulders. "I know this is one hell of a difficult position to be pushed into, but I know you, Amelia. You'll make it work. You always have. You have a resilience that would make most soldiers applaud you."

I smile again. Richard's a great stepfather, nearly a perfect replacement for my own dad. He loves me as his own kid, even though he only married my mom four years ago. He could cheer up the most depressed soldier in a matter of minutes. He should consider becoming a professional inspirational speaker.