Lucia was hiding in the library when Britney was sent for her, she was a very young lady, or at least she looked like one and her blonde ponytail bobbed behind her as though her curls were made up of slinkies as she approached. She reminded one of a Barbie doll but chubbier. Lucia almost felt sorry for her, she didn’t look like she could handle the attitude she was about to catch.
“I’m not getting measured and I’m not designing a dress.” Lucia announced before the woman got too close to where she was curled up in a plush arm chair, her feet beneath her and a book perched on her knees.
Britney paused, her notepad clutched to her chest and her lips pinched together in an awkward expression, “So, you’re going to tell me your size and pick something… off the rack?” she asked hopefully.
“I’m not picking a dress,” Lucia said simply, her brows raised almost to her hairline. “I’m not taking part in this charade in any way.”
“So what will you wear on your wedding day?”
Hiking boots and lots of khaki, Lucia thought, as she walked her sorry butt as far away from this compound as was humanly possible. The woman was watching her silently, she stared back for a few moments until she could see she was visibly uncomfortable.
“I’m sure you have lots to do.” Lucia hinted with a tight smile.
“Understood.”
Britney left quietly and pulled the door shut behind her. Lucia grinned to herself.
~
Barely half an hour later, Elijah dumped a thick catalogue on the table in front of her.
“Pick one.” He said with a harsh edge to his voice. Lucia squinted at the book, then up at him to find out who the fuck he thought he was talking to like that. He nodded at the bridal dress catalogue with a stern expression. Looks like the mommy’s boy was getting serious, Lucia thought with amusement.
“I don’t like any of them.” She said snottily.
“You haven’t opened it.” He gave her a very tight smile that had her tempted to offer him chapstick.
Instead, she gave him a grim grin back before replying,“They’re just not my taste.” and nodded at the door to send him on his way back to his mother who was probably waiting to breastfeed him his lunch.
“What is your problem?” He asked incredulously, “My mother is doing everything to recreate a magical royal wedding with decorations and outfits and a feast of food that only you and a handful of other people can actually eat and you can’t just do her the favour of picking a dress?” he leant down and slid the catalogue closer to her with an almost pleading look.
“She’s planning her own dream wedding, trust me, she’s enjoying this far more than I ever could.”
“It’s still a lot of work.” He said quietly, a delicious hint of defeat in his tone that Lucia ate up proudly.
“Maybe you could offer her some assistance then, in fact, why don’t you pick the dress?” She suggested with all of the sweetness she could squeeze into her usually sarcastic voice. “I want nothing more than for you to find me attractive, it’s my life’s purpose to please you after all.” Okay, that line was probably a bit too much, it made her stomach heave a little and finally dragged Elijah’s forced pleasant smile into a frown.
“A potato sack it is then,” He said sulkily, “we’ll still need to measure you for the size of the arm holes though.” he snatched up the catalogue.
“If I tell you my dress size will you leave me in peace?” She couldn’t believe she was giving him an inch, knowing full well his mother would reach over his head and demand the mile.
Elijah blinked and raised his brows hopefully, “And you have to pick a dress.” he added, placing the thick book down in front of her again.
“I thought we just agreed on the sack?” She allowed her natural cheekiness to slip into her voice, it had always been hard for her to stay serious.
“Burlap is your colour.” He added with a half-grin.
“Racist.” She snorted.
Elijah froze for a moment, the way most white people did when you made a joke like that, they always had to run through it a few times in their head and make sure they weren’t actually in trouble.
“Wait, what?” He finally managed to mutter.
“I’m a ten,” She offered as amicably as she could, “don’t pick anything that could be mistaken for a meringue.” she threw the catalogue at him (he caught it easily in one hand), stood, and strode from the room as quickly as was possible.
-
Her room was on the other side of the far-too-large house and she had to stomp for what felt like miles until she even reached the main foyer again. When she did, she noticed Elijah’s sister, the skinny one with the straight hair, hanging around the bottom of the stairs with a sour expression. Her name was… Alice? No, Alyssa. Lucia shook her head, it didn’t matter what the frosty bitch’s name was, they would hopefully never have to speak again for the rest of her natural (and human) life.
Alyssa was pacing back and forth agitatedly, her lips moving as though she were muttering to herself but no sound reached Lucia’s ears. Lucia ignored her and continued on her way to the other side. She didn’t need to get swept up in the crazy that was swirling around that woman, she could practically smell the psycho on her.
As she approached the corridor connecting her to the opposite side of the house, her hair snagged and her head jerked backwards sharply and painfully. The shock and pain momentarily paralysed her.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Was snarled into her ear.
“I-What?” Lucia managed to turn her head enough to give Alyssa a look of utter bewilderment.
“Shut up.” The woman growled, dragging her backwards.
“B-” Lucia began, but she was quickly cut off by her attacker,
“I thought I had more time to get rid of you thanks to your shitty attitude problem,” A smack was delivered to the back of Lucia’s head, clocking her head forward again. “but he’s trying so hard to get close to you I have no choice - I can’t let him get any more attached than he already is.” Lucia couldn’t tell if she was actually addressing her or if she was talking to herself, either way Lucia was completely lost as to what she had done to offend. “Why is he trying to get close? There’s no point!” Alyssa yanked on Lucia’s curls again, so hard she was sure she must have lost a chunk. “There’s no point in him trying to get close to you when I was born to be his wife.”
“You what?” Lucia couldn’t help the words that shot from her lips in a moment of confusion and disgust. “You want to marry your own brother?”
“We are not blood, you moron, I was chosen by his family. Chosen because I am perfect. Chosen because I fit the Bonnet standard.” She gave Lucia’s ankle a swift kick where she had been attempting to drag her feet. “Not like you with your brown skin and black eyes, where did they find you? In a cardboard box next to a burrito stand?”
“I’m half Dominican.” Lucia didn’t know why she said it, it literally made no difference in the situation she was in of being dragged down the hallway by her hair in the hands of an incestuous vampire, but her pride got the better of her. Burritos are Mexican.
The woman ignored her.
Once Alyssa had reached the top of the stairs she twisted Lucia to face her roughly, causing her back to scream in pain from one of her legs being left behind her. But Lucia still fought back, kicking at Alyssa's stomach and swinging her body back and forth.
The vampire's rock hard abs hurt her toes and she wasn't making a smidge of progress flinging herself round. All she was creating was more pain for herself and she knew that, but it was the principle, she didn’t go down without a fight.
"You're so annoying." Alyssa growled quietly, digging her fingers into Lucia's skin painfully, the smaller girl squealed.
“Get your fucki-” A hand grabbed her jaw with a vice-like grip, cutting off any more sounds. She continued to struggle and squirm, desperately seeking a weak spot or opening but the woman’s arms remained rock solid.
“Shut up, whore.” Alyssa whispered into her ear. If Lucia had had the ability to open her mouth, she would definitely have questioned how she could be labelled a whore by a woman who wanted to fuck her own brother. But instead she made angry muffled noises through her clamped teeth as she continued to struggle. She flailed her legs wildly now, even if kicking Alyssa felt like kicking a football filled with concrete. It was very depressing that Lucia put in as much time in the gym as she did for it to mean nothing against these superhuman creepers.
“You’re nothing but a walking, talking incubator.” She spat with such venom it actually sent a jolt through Lucia’s stomach.
Her body spun with a speed that dizzied her and suddenly her heels were hanging over the edge of the top step as she faced Alyssa’s clavicle. Stupid nineties supermodel body.
Her hand was still gripping Lucia’s mouth and chin but that didn’t stop the shorter woman giving her the best stink-eye possible until her feet suddenly wobbled on the step, sending a jolt of self-awareness through her - if she leant back it would only take a small slip to send her tumbling to the bottom, how many stairs would she hit on the way down? Twenty? Thirty?
So this was her plan, scare tactics. She wanted to make Lucia run for the hills, stupid bitch hadn’t clocked that she was actively trying to and had been since she arrived. How many more ways would Lucia have to explain to these people that being here, marrying Elijah, was not her choice? No amount of threats could change that.
Alyssa looked deep into her eyes once more, green glaring into black, and flung her out from the top step. Lucia’s body seemed to hover in the air for a moment, shock clouding her thoughts as she tried to formulate any kind of plan - stop, drop and roll? Bend her knees? Suddenly the chandelier above her was getting further and further away and she realised it was too late, she was already plummeting to the ground.
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