Margot

All around me I can vaguely hear other people moving, talking, and laughing, but it's a muted scene. Like an old black and white movie with the volume turned down all the way. I can feel the impression of the scene unfolding around me, but nothing more than that. I’m too busy wrapped up literally with Nathaniel.

​Our cut wrists are bound together by a cloth as he uses his spare hand to stroke my arm in slow waves, up and down. I had been told about the binding a few months ago, but nothing beyond a blood toast was mentioned. I didn’t know that it would physically and emotionally bind me to Nathaniel.

​No turning back now, I guess.

​Even though that was never really an option was it? I try to slow my breath as my heart continues to race. I am too aware of his touch. I am overwhelmed with the need to feel him everywhere. It creates an ache deep inside me. But I still have half a mind to keep my distance because while I feel like we’re alone, I know we are not.

​If we were truly alone, I don’t know if I could contain myself from throwing myself at him. It’s not just that I want to touch him but in the pit of my stomach there is a burning desire to share one space with him. Close isn’t enough for me. I want to breathe his air, satisfy his every want and please him. It feels animalistic in nature. But beyond the physical aspects, there is a strong urge to devour his thoughts so that I can gain his approval.

​My free hand still rests on my stomach as if holding me together. The after image of vision clings to me. His thoughts still echoing in my head, heavy and warm, not entirely mine to hold. He was happy with what we saw. I could feel his initial reluctance but as the scene unfolds he had the same feeling as me- our union is destined. Do other Accord marriage partners feel this and experience these shared visions? This is all new for me and there is no manual I can refer back to for guidance. I thought I knew the Accord, knew the rules. I was wrong.

​After what feels like an hour, Nathaniel stops touching me and starts unraveling our bound hands. My eyes are glued on the unbinding and once he has completed his task, He taps my chin, waking me from the spell the Binding has put on me.

​“Y-yes,” is all I am able to say at first. Shaking my head I try to balance the energetic party with the soul shattering connection that was just forged between us.

​“Are you okay?” His face is full of concern and he gently holds my hand as he walks me back to the now empty table I was previously sitting at. “The Binding can be intense from what I am told and have seen myself in other ceremonies. I think ours will be as well. We can discuss it later?” I get the feeling that it’s a matter of a private conversation and nod. Sitting down, I reach for my wine glass and gulp it down.

​Getting drunk might be a good idea for now. Or at least tipsy.

​I can feel him linger behind me, but he doesn’t say anything else and walks to his sister who is dancing with a pink haired human. After a few moments of them speaking in between her dancing, he motions towards his own chair and walks away. Needing to give myself some distance, I head for the restroom.

​Exiting from a back door, I explore the hallway. I needed a map for this house or else I would spend the next month getting lost every turn. I spy a door labeled lavatory and let myself in. Letting the air out of my lungs, I practice my breathing exercises. The emotions rolling through me feel alien and I just need to revert back to myself. I have enough confusion and doubts beyond my growing attraction for my fiance, that I don’t need the added pressure of his emotions as well.

​Surprisingly, the bathroom is larger than I suspected, with stalls and a marble counter with a few sinks. Hunching over the sink, I turn on the water and start splashing my face. I just needed to cool down. The heat from Nathaniel’s touch had simmered but I was still sweaty. My hands gripped the porcelain sink and water dripped down my face as I continued to take shaky breaths in and then force them out.

​Behind me the door swings open and my eyes search the mirror in front of me for who has joined me. The pink haired woman from the dance floor gives me a sly smile and approaches the sink next to me. Ignoring me she pulls out a tube of lipstick and starts to reapply her red lipcover.

​She’s leaning into the mirror examining herself and doesn’t make eye contact with me. “Cooling off?” She caps her lipstick as she makes eye contact with me through the mirror. “You should. Nathaniel’s a prize that most women would kill for. What a shame your sister couldn’t make it. I enjoyed meeting her in the city last time I visited. She seemed to keep…interesting company.” Flashing me the fakest sympathetic smile, she blows me a kiss.

​Sashaying out of the bathroom, she doesn’t spare me another look, leaving me filled with anger. Everyone knew that Vivienne was dead. It wasn’t like she missed her flight. She was rotting in a casket after she decided to party too hard one night last December.

​Who the fuck was that and how did she know my dead sister?

​I let the shock wear off as I racked my brain for any meaningful story that Vivienne told me about her time here during the last Crimson Ball. She made jokes about the bloodsuckers, the Registry, and someone on the security team who she thought was hot. Nothing of substance.

​She must have met that pink haired bitch again before she died. The ball’s always in October. Between then and December…that’s when it happened. It had to be.

​I can’t help but question why I never heard anything about this. Vivienne and I shared everything with each other, but after her death, I started to realize that not everything added up. Like how did my sister die from an overdose when she always refused drugs? At the time of her death, I was so buried in grief, I accepted that there were missed signs and lies to explain away her unknown addiction, but now?

Now I had even more questions and fewer answers. My gut was telling me that something was off. And I needed to find out before I walked down the aisle. I wouldn’t get married with these doubts. I might be the replacement bride, but I deserve to know whatever that woman and anyone else knew about my sister.

I grabbed the hand towel, ripping it off the holder in my absentminded rage and attempted to find some type of inner peace. I couldn’t leave here upset. My father would be embarrassed if I made a scene, so I swallowed my anger and questions.

I swung open the door to the hallway and was surprised to find Ivan waiting for me.

“I was wondering where you went off too. Still on duty?” I asked him knowing that he wasn’t ever off the clock. Here he didn’t have any other guys to give him a break, so he would be working until I went to bed behind a lock door. Although I could ask what kind of trouble could I get into when I was surrounded by my supposed allies as my only companions.

“Just making sure you’re okay Ms. Astor,” is the only response I get. He must have been hiding because I hadn’t seen him since arriving. Ivan was chosen to accompany us here for the main fact that he was privy to the Accord as his family was a part of the Founding Ten. He probably didn’t know everything, but he knew enough to do his job and knew the importance of what our stay here meant.

I give him a sweet smile, hoping he can’t see through my facade. My heels clicked against the flooring, their rhythmic noise lulled me into a false sense of security. I was the Astor bride and I had every right to be here and ask my questions. Although, now would not be the time, I would get my answers.

The ballroom hummed in conversations as I weaved between people and sat down once more at the table. The noise surrounding me slowly died as I took a sip of my now replenished wine.

Then I saw them.

​The Registry women were walking into the room with smiles on their faces. Some had weary eyes like this wasn’t their first time. Others were excited to be put on display. They all wore the same red dresses and heels. Their breasts were offered to the world with the low cut v of the dresses that left little to the imagination. They were all of different ages and races. All willing donors to the Eternal Court. Nobody talked to them at first, but I saw plenty of the immortal guests pointing as they discussed with themselves who would taste better.

​Slowly, men and women stood up and walked over to the Registry women, making choices and herding them to tables. They would be the entertainment for the night.

​And then Nathaniel stood.

​His gaze never left mine as he walked toward them.