Chapter 4: Bloodstained Feathers

She's in pain.

Her back is burning to the point that she wants to claw it out as she sits on a pristine white bed. 

She cries, weeps. Her sobs reverberate off the walls of the small illuminated room as she clutches blood-soaked feathers to her chest, her white robe stained with crimson blood. 

Agony surrounds her and fills her with the call of something unknown as she cries. Her neck burns the most second to her back, clumpy red feathers getting stuck between the palms of her hands as she grits her teeth to tolerate the ache.

And then, her eyes fall on the mirror propped against the golden vanity in one corner.

*

Serafina frowns at her reflection in the mirror, the annoyance showing on her face as she brushes her hair back, the 12-carat oval cut diamond was gracefully slid onto her finger by her fiance when he came to pick her up, glinting under the fluorescent lights. She turns then, the assistant following after her hurriedly, picking up the train of the large dress as she walks out of the dressing room. 

And there he sits, her devil of fiance in his white silk shirt and leather jacket, his tight jeans clinging to muscular thighs. Serafina had rolled her eyes in the morning when he showed up wearing those jeans and maybe she wouldn't have hated them even more now had her fiancee not made her try on ten wedding dresses in four different stores. "What do you think, sir?" the attendant asks fearfully, knowing if he doesn't like the dress she would need to take it off Serafina and put her in a different one. 

But the issue that Serafina is over it.

"I don't like it," Serafina says before her fiancee can open his mouth to say anything. 

Damien meets her eyes in the mirror, a slow smile spreading across his lips. He knew she would never like it. Matter of factly, the only dresses he's requested her to try on are the ones she hated. "What do you not like about it, Angel?" Playing the loving fiancee. Serafina is also over the smooth rumble of his voice.

She looks at the dress on her again. Her hair has been brushed down by the attendant, a clip in the shape of a white rose holding her veil in her hair. The bodice of the dress isn't intolerable. If anything, it looks gorgeous; with delicate embroidery and a form-fitting design. But the flare of the skirt is too much, it is large and long following after her. It reminds her of Queen Victoria's dresses and not in a good way. 

"It's too big?" She tries her hardest to not grit her teeth at him as she replies, smiling sheepishly at the attendant. 

Her fiance waves the confused attendant away as he approaches Serafina. "You know with that attitude, everyone will know you don't want to marry me, don't you?" he picks a strand of her hair from her back as he peers over her shoulder. 

She hates that she is still shorter than him even though she is standing on the platform. She looks back at him, trying not to let the venom show on her face as she speaks, "You know that wouldn't be the case had you picked the right dresses for me to try?" She makes her voice saccharine sweet as she replies.

"Baby, you could always say you don't want to try them," he mocks her, his voice equally sweet though his amber and blue eyes glint in mischief. 

She narrows her midnight ones at him, the anger getting the best of her. "And blow off the fucking cover?" she sneers. But her breath gets stuck in her throat when he inches closer to her instantly, his differently colored eyes even more gorgeous from this angle as his hand wraps around her waist.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you so visibly upset, you might just blow the said cover by reacting so loudly," he tuts, rubbing up her arm and eliciting dangerous shivers up her spine.

"And whose fault would that be?" she murmurs, her eyes hard though she makes the effort to lower her voice.

"Yours, of course," he smiles down at her, sharp canines glinting under the fluorescent lights and Serafina has half the mind to step back. 

"Can you show her that dress we were talking about earlier?" He says loudly seemingly to no one in particular and magically the attendant slips out of the dressing room with red cheeks. 

Serafina realizes she has been careless when Damien winks at her, although there is a fire in his eyes that tells her she's stepping on thin ice. But does she care? 

Well, maybe a little bit.

The dress that the lady shows her is beautiful. Delicate lace that hugs the form perfectly, it's backless to the bum, and has a detachable train that would follow five steps behind her. She is instantly in love though she does feel like something is missing. 

"It's beautiful but I don't know, there seems to be something missing," she mutters to herself as she stands before the mirror in the same dress, her fiancee busy with his phone which she is happy with, not wanting any more of his opinion.

"I can't tell, Miss. It's the most stunning piece we have," the attendant answers. "Would you like to wear a veil and see how you feel about it then?"

But the veil makes no difference. She's so taken with figuring out what the dress needs that she misses Damien's silent steps as he approaches her. She almost jumps out of her skin when his hands settle on her hips, "It needs a pop of color. Can you embroider maroon flowers along the hips and on the shoulders?" He traces over her hips and then her shoulders where he suggests the flowers should be.

They get into a whole conversation about the placement and shade after taking Serafina's agreement. 

But all Serafina can think about are the blood-stained feathers in her dream and its resemblance with her wedding dress. 

*