Wren gawked dumbly when the strange man appeared in the chapel, his mind suddenly distracted from the intricate black design that had etched itself onto the skin of his ring finger. The man had come out of nowhere. He floated in midair for a brief moment before landing gracefully on his feet only a foot or so from where Wren himself was standing.

Suddenly, Wren found himself swept up in the stranger’s embrace. He yelped in dismay as he felt himself falling backward, but instead of hitting the red-carpeted stone floor, he realized that the stranger was supporting his weight with one arm.

“I do.” The man whispered huskily and then Wren felt the stranger’s lips touch his own.

At that moment, Wren's mind refused to work properly. He should have been fighting the stranger off, but he could only think that it was like a scene out of a classic movie. What an absurd thing to be thinking when one was having their first kiss stolen by a complete stranger…

Wren started to struggle, but before he could do so, the stranger removed his lips from his own and peered down at him and Wren found his breath stolen away by a pair of glowing amber eyes.

Just who or “what” was he?

Those strange, glowing eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Had Wren not been almost nose-to-nose with the stranger, he probably would not have even been able to detect the change in his expression, so slight that it was.

Then, the stranger’s eyes narrowed on him, and that was very noticeable. Suddenly, the arm supporting him vanished and Wren found himself tumbling to the floor. He landed with a dull thud on his backside, the jar causing him to let out a little “omf” of surprised dismay.

The stranger glared down at him with an expression of annoyance.

“Who the hell are you?” He demanded. “You're not my fiancé. She's supposed to be here. She read the scroll and performed the blood sacrifice, didn't she?”

The amber-eyed stranger surveyed his surroundings, apparently searching for his absentee bride. Feeling a bit dumbfounded, Wren’s own eyes scanned the chapel as well, half expecting this person to suddenly appear. Wren slowly became aware that the man was looking at him again. This time, he peered down at Wren with a look that seemed a mixture of panic and disbelief.

“You!?” He accused, pointing one finger toward Wren. Wren just stared up at him from his position on the floor of the chapel, completely lost as to what could be going on. He did notice, however, that the amber-eyed man wore black fingernail polish on his elegantly shaped nails.

“You read the scroll?” The man asked, his voice drawing Wren’s attention from his perfectly manicured and painted nails to his rather uncommonly attractive face. Now that Wren thought about it, the man could easily be a model.

When Wren didn’t offer an answer, Mr. Amber Eyes ran his fingers through his dark auburn hair, mussing his perfect coif. He paced back and forth, muttering under his breath just loud enough for Wren to hear. “No, no, no! This can’t be right!”

Suddenly, he rounded on Wren. Pinning him to the floor with his gaze alone, he snarled. “Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Wren stuttered.

Wren sat where he was on the floor and stared up at the man looming above him. He was utterly lost as to what was going on. But there were two things that he was absolutely certain of, the second of which was not very comforting at the moment.

First, he was sure the auburn-haired stranger was a goth of some sort. He was wearing a quite outrageous tuxedo. It dripped with ruffles and delicate green lace and boasted cufflinks shaped like skulls. Wren was sure the suit had come from one of the Gothic specialty stores he passed by on his way to and from the University every day.

And then there was the stranger's eyes… he had never seen such eyes before. They glowed with a light that seemed otherworldly… demonic even. He had to be wearing those contacts that changes eye color.

Second, he was certain the amber-eyed man was royally ticked off… at him. That was what had him most worried and confused at the moment, mainly because he wasn’t exactly sure what he had done to affront the man, other than steal a couple of pastries.

He started when he realized that the man was suddenly looming over him. Wren shrunk into himself, as if trying to make himself smaller than he actually was. It wasn’t that it was the best line of defense, but Wren had often found that making himself as invisible as possible was his only line of defense. Lord knows, he’d faced his own share of bullies…

“Oh, for goodness sake, I’m not going to rip your head off.” The stranger snapped as he reached to take hold of Wren’s arm. He pulled Wren onto his feet and then curled his lips into what could only be described as a sinister sneer. "Yet..."

Wren couldn’t help but notice that the man’s teeth were pearly white and perfectly straight, save for his incisor teeth, which were sharp and canine-like. They looked to be made for ripping and tearing flesh.

Wren shook his arm loose from the stranger’s grasp and stepped back cautiously. As he did so, burning amber eyes followed his every movement, studying him intently. Wren’s backward momentum slowed and then he stopped where he stood, feeling as if he were tied by some invisible force to the place he stood.

At a loss of what else to do, Wren remained stock still as the man took his wrist and held it up between them. The stranger laid Wren’s palm flat against his own. He suddenly noticed that he had the same strange tattoo encircling his finger as Wren himself did.

“You're at a wedding,” he explained slowly, as if he thought Wren a simpleton. “My wedding. Or at least it was supposed to be. My bitch of a fiancée seems to have left me at the altar… But that's not important right now. You read that scroll sitting up there and offered your blood as a sacrifice, didn't you?”

Wren opened his mouth to argue that he did no such thing. The knife cut him of it own accord, after all! Poor craftsmanship and all that… He certainly hadn’t intended to injure himself or to offer up his blood. Before he could say anything, however, the would-be groom continued.

“See these matching tattoos on our fingers? I regret to say they mean you and I are wedded. Savvy?”