Page 125 of Alien God

“Is that...”

“A veil? Yes! I am not sure if it’s quite right, though. I did my best based on your description.”

A veil. I’d mentioned it in passing to Aiko as a bit of human wedding trivia, not because I’d actually thought about wearing one.

When Aiko was finished doing up the dress, I went over to the bed, the lush, heavy skirt rustling with every step. I picked up the veil, a sheer, weightless rectangle of white silk. It was thin enough that I could see my fingers through it. There was a curving crystal headpiece attached that I could nestle among the two braids Aiko had helped me tie.

Instantly, I knew I’d wear it. It would be a barrier, blurring the world around me. Something to hide me, to protect me, to save me from reality.

“I must go finish preparing the feast for after the ceremony,” Aiko said. “Would you let me see the front of the dress, so I can make sure it is alright?”

“Of course,” I said softly, letting the veil fall back onto the bed. I lifted the skirt, being careful not to step on it, and faced her.

“Oh, Torrance, you are lovely. I’ve never been to a wedding, but I’m sure that you must be the most beautiful bride there ever was!”

“I agree.”

Both Aiko and I jumped and looked towards the door. Wylfrael was draped there, leaning with one arm up against the doorframe, the other down at his side with his fist clenched, as if holding something tightly.

Aiko said something else about the food, something I barely registered, and slipped past Wylfrael, leaving us alone.

I wanted to turn away from him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop staring at him.

He was exactly as I’d pictured him, bulk and power turned svelte by a perfectly-tailored dark suit. He even had the white shirt beneath, and the tie to match his eyes. His hair was smooth and tied-back, his leather boots freshly polished. He was stunning. He literally stunned me, left me still and stupid and breathless, unable to say a word.

Much like the veil, when Aiko had asked about what men wore to weddings in my culture, I’d figured she’d just been asking out of curiosity. Never would I have imagined that Wylfrael would actually agree to wear something like this, something human. I’d pictured him in a suit, but realistically assumed he’d wear his own clothing.

What did it mean, that he was dressed like a human man when he found humans so detestable and weak? Was it meant as some sort of taunt, like a predator turning the skin of its prey into a trophy?

Or was it an olive branch, however wilted and broken? A message meant for me?

When I found myself able to speak, that wasn’t what I asked him. Like an idiot, my voice sounding pathetic, instead, I asked, “Do you like the dress?”

The question had apparently been an invitation into the room. He strode in, his sky-fire eyes never leaving me.

He stopped before me, close enough to overwhelm me with his presence but not close enough to touch, and said, “Yes.”

My reaction to his body so close was instant and inescapable. My breath came quicker, my cheeks feeling warm. The time I’d spent in bed alone, wanting him to hold me even as I wanted him as far away as possible, had become a hard ache inside me. That ache turned sharp, like a blade, as I stood before him.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

I can’t believe after everything that’s happened we’re standing here talking about dresses.

“Yes. It’s perfect,” I said, smoothing my hands over the fitted bodice. Wylfrael’s gaze followed my movements, and his wings twitched, making air swish around me.

“Though, I have no idea what I actually look like in it,” I added. I could tell by feel alone that it fit beautifully, and that would have to be enough.

Wylfrael turned from me to face the nearest section of silver wall. He held up his hand, jaw tightening and eyes narrowing. Confused, my gaze went from him to the wall and then back to him again. He was doing something... Using his power to...

I gasped when I looked at the wall again. Where the rest of the room had a roughly carved, multi-faceted surface, the area Wylfrael focused on was becoming flat. Smooth. Something began to emerge from the wall – an image. Blurry, but growing more distinct every second.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Anyone who does not see you now, in your entirety, will have suffered a great tragedy,” was all he offered in response.

He’s making a mirror.

A few more seconds, and it was done. The wall gleamed, a perfect mirror, reflecting the two of us back out into the room.

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