Page 118 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding

The sound seemed to rattle through her bones.

But nothing, not even the interruption of her much-needed rest, could ruin Pandora’s mood.

She’d been in the garden with Victor until the sun was kissing the sky. Reluctantly, they’d pulled apart and made their way into the castle, heading toward their own separate rooms.

Pandora lay in bed for hours after, reliving the events of the night, the whispers and sighs, the love she’d felt for him leaching into her bones, into her very marrow, as they’d held each other in a tangle of limbs in the cool grass.

And today, today she was going to marry that same man.

She felt like she was floating.

“Wait a minute,” Lucy said, mouth falling open as she drew closer to Pandora’s bed. “Is that … Is that beard burn on your neck?” she asked, making Pandora’s hand slap to her neck, which felt oddly hot and sensitive. “It is! No way. I mean … I’m so happy for you and I need all of the details. But your female family members are about to burst in here to primp and prod at you for hours. So you might want to rush into the bathroom to try to cover up that redness.”

Pandora threw off the covers and ran into the bathroom, checking her reflection in the mirror. And, sure enough, there was a path of irritated skin down her neck where Victor’s lips had been.

“How do I cover this?” she asked, looking at Lucy’s giddy reflection in the mirror.

“If we had time, some ice and an oatmeal compress. But we don’t, so … What do we have here?” She grabbed Pandora’s toiletry bag and dug through. “OK. This cream should soothe it.” She handed the tube to Pandora, who quickly rubbed it on the spot. “This is Dante’s sunscreen, right?” Lucy waved the tube at Pandora.

“Yeah.”

“You said it has a white cast, right?”

“Yeah.”

“OK. This is as close to make-up as we are going to get since you don’t have any foundation.”

With that, Pandora slathered it on until it reduced most of the redness.

“They’re going to be with you as you get into your gown. Is there anywhere else we have to worry about?” Lucy asked.

If Pandora could blush, she would be crimson.

Still, Lucy must have caught a flicker of her embarrassment because she beamed at her friend.

“Oh, my God. I love that. And I want to hear all of the details. But the mob is always here. So … cover up your spots. I will stall,” she said, just as the click of heels sounded outside Pandora’s room.

Pandora rushed to do just that, brushed her teeth, and fished a few twigs and leaves out of her hair before washing it.

It was going to be a long day. She could have a full shower later.

When she made her way out of the bathroom a few minutes later, her room – which was enormous – was packed with women. The noise of their conversations alone almost had her backing into the bathroom for a couple more minutes of peace. Most of the chat seemed to be about her bed, with a couple of the women bouncing on the edge of it and sharing a look that made Pandora think they were starting to reconsider their own personal use of coffins.

But just when she was actually considering that, she was spotted.

And they all … swarmed at her. Hugs and cheek pecks came from every direction as she was twirled around and fussed over.

Pandora felt dizzy as her gaze slid helplessly to where Lucy was standing near the door with Vlad perched on one shoulder and Elizabeth the cockatoo on the other.

She noticed with a smile that Vlad had on a little birdie suit vest and Elizabeth had been dressed up with what looked like her own bridal gown vest.

“Here,” Ophelia said when the crowd dispersed to fuss over the bridesmaid dresses that had just been delivered by Pandora’s father. “We may not be able to get drunk, but traditions should be observed.” She held out a glass of lazily bubbling champagne.

“Plus the bubbles are fun,” Kora piped in.

Pandora reached for the champagne flute. “Thank you,” she said, rolling some of the tension out of her shoulders. Her family could be a real sensory overload when they all came at you at once.

“I remember my wedding day,” Ophelia said, running a hand down Pandora’s steadily drying hair that was likely already starting to frizz out. “I think all of this,” she said, gesturing toward all the women, “was more stressful than coming up with my own vows.”