12. Softly Stolen Solace
12
SOFTLY STOLEN SOLACE
T he next few days passed like that…
Days of Luella waking with a chill in her bones and Az sitting like a guard, resting his back on the bars between them. She would spend time pacing along the short length of the cell, bare feet slapping on the ground and hopping over dirty puddles of water. Food was brought by a guard, a different one each time. Meager sustenance; slop, really. Stale, hard bread and chunks of dried meat. She ate the bread, even though she struggled to get it down, but she didn’t touch the meat. Az seemed to love it, trading her his bread for her meat. It became a little system. He would coax her into finishing her small loaf before gently nudging his through the bars to her. It tasted like ash in her mouth, dry, crumbling, and lacking in flavor.
The other males never showed up. Even though Graves had left with a promise to see her again, Bastian saying the same as she was led from the throne room. She tried not to feel like she had been forgotten and left to rot here.
Luella and her strange, beastly neighbor grew closer, asking each other random questions to pass the time. Some, he would answer easily. But others would cause him to grow quiet and solemn, leading Luella to bite her lip and utter a soft apology. She wouldn’t dare do anything to upset him. Not when he was her only point of connection.
The end of the day—or what she thought was the end, it was hard to tell without any natural light—saw her curled up against the cold iron, shivering in her thin, torn gown. Az would murmur low words over her as she fell asleep, lullabies and foreign prayers. He only wore thin leather pants with rips at the knees. Otherwise, he would have given her his shirt, he had told her.
She wasn’t sure exactly how long had passed. Perhaps a week? It was hard to tell. There was no way to tell the passage of time other than the meals, which were brought at random intervals to keep them out of sorts, no doubt.
Luella let out a lengthy sigh, tilting her head to the side to watch Az. He was lying down, knuckles knocking over the iron bars as he trailed his hand back and forth in a lazy motion. The firelight cast warmth over his already-tanned skin, illuminating his chest and causing her heart to seize as she tore her gaze away, back to his amber eyes, which were already watching her. He smirked, and she fought against the urge to hide her face behind her hands.
"What’s your favorite color?" Luella asked. Her hair fanned out above her as she lay on her back.
Az hummed, contemplative. He stared into her eyes before flicking his gaze down to rest on her warm cheeks, where she knew a blush was painting her skin. The demon gave her a lopsided grin before saying, "Pink."
Her face heated up even more if it were possible. She turned her attention to the ceiling, tracing the cracks along the walls that spider-webbed up, up, up and made strange little patterns—a morbid version of cloud gazing.
She asked the first thing that popped into her head to distract herself from further embarrassment. Something that had been pressing heavily upon her mind, and she had been far too nervous to ask. Even now, trepidation threatened to stop the words. What if she made him angry? But her curiosity won out, and she spoke. "Why are you here, Az?"
The demon grew still beside her, and she turned her head, peeking at him. The strong line of his jaw clenched with subtle displeasure, and she watched as he, too, directed his attention to the ceiling. An arm was crooked and tucked under his head, and the other fell, the fingers that had been tracing over the bars coming to rest on his lower stomach. His bare, lower stomach, she noted. Luella felt her skin warm anew. But this time, not with embarrassment.
He looked so…otherworldly; though, she guessed he was , as a demon from the Below. It was a whole other realm from the one in which she resided. He turned, eyes locking on her, and she tried not to feel abashed by the fact she had already been studying him intently.
"I…" Az trailed off like he was searching for words that were just out of his grasp, escaping him. "I went against the King."
"What do you mean?" Luella rolled over on her side, resting her cheek on her crooked arm. Even through the bars that separated them, she felt intimidated by him. Laying so close to him… Her fingers slipped through the bars, poking against his side. Az tensed at her touch before grabbing her hand quickly like he was scared she’d pull it away.
He tugged her hand as far as it would go, her arm socket straining as he threaded his fingers through hers and pulled their clasped hands up to his chest. She stifled a groan of protest at the stretch. She knew Az didn’t realize he was hurting her; instinctively, she felt that if he knew, he would be ashamed of himself. Az would never hurt her. Couldn’t hurt her.
Somewhere along the way, her apprehension of him had lessened and lessened. At first, it had been quelled by his binding blood oath. But now? Now, she could feel it in her bones, in that cavernous pit of her soul where she was bereft of any magic. Only one thing resided there, filling up those empty spaces: a call leading her to him, holding the knowledge that he would truly protect her.
When Az failed to respond, Luella didn’t push him. She was well acquainted with the nature of secrets. She had her own. If the roles were reversed, and he asked her why she was imprisoned, she wasn’t sure if she would be very forthcoming, either. So how could she expect the same of him?
"Enough of that." Luella wiggled her fingers in Az’s grip. "What’s your favorite food?"
Her stomach grumbled softly at the mere word.
At her change of topic—and the faint growl from her belly—Az barely concealed his amusement, head tilting back as his chest expanded and a laugh echoed in the space between them. A happy sound, unfitting in the darkness of the dungeons.
He rubbed a thumb down the back of her hand, and she preened at the fact she could elicit such a noise from him, chest warming with an emotion she didn’t want to investigate in its entirety.
"Strawberries," Az said. Another secret smile was on his face, and Luella bit her lip, holding back a twin expression that threatened to split her mouth wide open. She hadn’t smiled in a while. It felt odd. Amber eyes focused on where her teeth dug into her lower lip, and he swallowed harshly. "And yours?" He cleared his throat.
She hummed under her breath, memory conjuring up savory rolls topped with fresh herbs and pats of melted butter, roasted nuts rolled in caramelized sugar, or even bowls of sweet cream topped with a dollop of honey and sticky syrup.
Her mouth watered, and she let out a low moan.
What she wouldn’t give for some real food.
Az sucked in a sharp breath.
"Anything sugary. I’ve always had a sweet tooth."
He hummed, considering her. "I think I do, too."
His tone was heavy, and she looked at him, feeling tension weigh between them as their eyes met. The deep timbre of his voice conveyed far more than a mere discussion of sweet treats. She couldn’t handle it—had never been so relentlessly pursued before.
Luella looked away first.
Az’s fingers continued their soft path against the back of her hand. Like he understood her hesitation somehow and did not fault her for it.
He tugged her hand to his face slowly, like he was giving her a chance to break away from his hold before he pressed his mouth against the fluttering pulse point on her wrist. His lips were soft, plush, and inviting. Luella’s breath hitched.
"Let’s go to sleep," Az murmured against her skin, his voice far deeper than she had ever heard it before.
Luella nodded, her voice stolen from her by the mere touch of his lips against her skin; she was left breathless, unable to formulate words.
She fell asleep like that. Hand clutched tightly in Az’s, held against his chest, with her arm stretched out between the slats of the iron bars.
Flames radiating warmth flickered in the fireplace before her. Embers sparked from the orange-hued, dancing blaze and landed against the stone of the mantle.
Luella’s toes sunk into a plush rug, and she sighed. It was comfortable. Safe. Her body relaxed into the armchair, shoulders slumping in languid content.
Just as she felt like she might nod off, a presence settled against the back of the chair, hands landing heavily on the tall back. She startled, head tilting up to be met with the sight of red-tinged eyes, flecks of brown and hazel interspersed in a maze of maroon. Thick, black lashes lined the half-lidded gaze, and lips that were inviting and plush, sensual and graceful, curved up in a sinful smirk as her eyes tracked over his face before stopping right on that keen stare.
Bastian.
The vampire.
The interloper of dreams and the King’s captivating Advisor.
His treatment of her had been hot and cold, yet a strange sense of altruism, mellow as it may be, had been extended to her in seemingly random acts and platitudes.
A sash of silk to keep her hands tied and a promise to keep her life safe.
The vampire was an enigma.
And he had stolen into her dreams once more.
Luella glowered up at him.
"You." The word was a hiss between her teeth.
"Me," he purred in answer.
"Why did you steal into my mind this night?"
"Why is it you think I’m the one stealing into your mind? What if I’m only stealing you and whisking you away to mine?" the vampire countered.
"What difference does it make? You still go where you’re not permitted and take what does not belong to you." She was bold, careless. And she loved it.
Bastian stepped around to the front of the armchair, sitting on a low table resting in the center of the room. The fire was behind him, and the red glow illuminated his edges like an aura of fury and menace. His hands slapped against her knees—bare, she realized, for she was still in her tattered gown.
"I thought we covered this already, pet. You do belong to me. You are mine to take and do with whatever I see fit." Bastian distractedly toyed with the hem of her gown, the threadbare fabric torn and dirtied. He pinched it between his fingers, lifting it from her thigh as though it gravely offended him. "Why am I not surprised? Of course, they haven’t thought to offer you a change of clothes. Those careless beasts," he muttered, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling as if in prayer for patience. "I can’t even leave them alone for a few days… Do I have to do everything myself?"
"What—" Luella started, but he cut her off with a firm finger pressed against her lips to shush her, and she grew cross-eyed as she looked down at the affronting appendage. She had half a mind to bite it.
"And this blood. You’re caked in it," the vampire huffed. "No matter. I didn’t realize how out of practice they were for caring for another. Let alone a fae princess,"—he eyed her with intent—"someone like you. I’ll see to it you’re taken care of from now on. At least while they have you in the dungeons." The last words were mumbled under his breath as he shook his head, and he flattened the hem of her gown back against her thigh and gave it a gentle pat.
The vampire was making no sense, and she wondered if he had hit his head or indulged in too much wine. Before she could ask just that, he pressed a firm thumb to her brow.
"Wait!" Luella lifted a hand to stop him, but it was too late.
She fell backward and forwards and upwards… All at once.
Body floating in a haze of scattered imagery.
And Luella?—
Was jolted back into her body to the sound of muffled cursing.
"That blood-sucking bastard. I’ll fucking gut him." She heard Az hiss from behind her.
She had fallen asleep with her back pressed against the iron bars of the cell, the rigidness setting a slight ache to her spine. She twisted, facing Az.
"What?" Luella murmured sleepily. She pressed a hand to the back of her mouth to cover her yawn, a funny heat overtaking her as she kicked off the thin blanket draped over her slightly shaking, tired body. She felt hot and cold at the same time… Strange.
"Are you hurt?" Az fit a hand through the bars, rubbing every bit of her he could reach—her shoulder and the tip of her fingers when she offered her hand to him.
"Hurt?" she questioned. "Why would I be hurt?"
"Because of him ," the demon seethed.
"Bastian?" she breathed.
Did Az know him?
"He stole into your dreams. I feel him all over you. Smell him all over you." Az pressed his forehead to the bars, horns knocking against them from the movement. He gazed down at her, amber eyes stark and jaw hard. "He didn’t hurt you?"
"No," Luella assured. She sat up, pulling her hand away from Az’s as she rubbed her palms down her arms to warm herself.
Was it just her, or had it grown even colder?
The demon eyed her skeptically, and she rushed to assure him further. "I promise. It’s not the first time he’s been in my mind." She tapped a finger against her temple. "But he’s strangely never hurt me. Quite the opposite, in fact. He says he wants to keep me alive." The last part was a whisper, like she doubted it, even though the vampire had followed through thus far.
Az seemed to ignore her, all of his focus on her…hands?
He suddenly jerked forward and forcibly lifted the delicate skin of her wrist to his mouth and ran his nose along the blue-green veins there. She softly exhaled at the feel of him pressing so insistently against her, following the line of her vein and puffing warm breaths against her cool skin.
"What are you?—"
He looked up at her from under his lashes, a thick fan of black. She inwardly lamented the fact that a demon could have such pretty eyes and dark lashes.
"Need to get his scent off you." His voice was gruff.
After a few heavy moments, Az released her, a satisfied tilt to his lips. She was reluctant to pull her arm back but didn’t know why. Something about him carefully covering her in his scent made her weak in the knees. She was thankful she was already sitting. If he continued for any longer, she feared she may have turned into a puddle on the floor at the warmth filling her chest, filling that usually cavernous and empty space in her stomach.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and opened her mouth to dispel the sudden terseness between them.
Just when a question was poised on her lips, she was interrupted by the howling call of a guard. "Food!" the male barked, shoving a little dish with the usual dried meat and white bread through the little slot at the bottom of the cell.
Luella scrambled to it, knees digging into the ground in her haste to pick the platter up. She was ravenous, her stomach an empty pit. She tore into the bread, barely paying attention as the soldier left. Az watched her with alertness.
"Hungry?" he asked, stretching a hand through the bars to offer Luella his bread. She nodded around a mouthful of the tasteless substance before crawling back to where their cells touched. She gave him a small smile and reached a hand out for the bread, but he jerked it back at the last second. "Ah, ah." Az smiled before tearing off a small piece and offering it to her. "Let me. Open," he instructed.
She obeyed, mouth opening just a tiny bit. Az touched the piece of bread to her mouth, forcing it further between her lips. She closed her lips around it, took it from him, and chewed thoughtfully. He lowered his hand to her chin as she swallowed, eyes sparking in pleasure.
"Good," Az mumbled.
Luella gulped, mouth suddenly dry, and she reached for the small tin of water, lifting it to her lips and swallowing greedily.
"Oh." Remembering the dried meat on her platter, she offered it to Az, and he took it with a grateful smile, tearing it into quickly.
Luella didn’t know what the feelings low in her belly meant. But she kept thinking of Az’s hand against her chin, directing her to swallow, his grumbly voice praising her.
She huffed, laying on her back, arms reaching far above her head as she stretched out her tired, achy body. Her back arched slightly from her stretching, and she watched as Az’s attention jerked down to rest on her chest, amber eyes darkening, before he tore his eyes back up to settle on her face.
Luella felt unsettled for some reason. In a quick motion, she rolled to her stomach, tucking her curled hands under her chin as Az stared down at her.
"Tired?" he asked.
She nodded, feeling a strange wave of vertigo overcome her. Her head felt spinny, and her body felt… untethered.
"Yeah," she mumbled, closing her eyes. "Think I’ll rest for a bit."
A warm hand came to settle on her forehead. "You’re burning up," Az remarked. He moved to press the back of his hand against her cheek, the coolness of his palm comforting to her. She let out a tired and contented sigh. Normally, the demon had scorching hot skin, but it felt wonderful on her inflamed cheeks. Cool, almost, against her flushed and overheated skin. "Are you getting sick?" Worry clouded the demon’s voice.
Luella made a noncommittal sound under her breath.
Waving him off lazily, she curled up even smaller, a knee pulling up to her stomach as she attempted to sleep. She felt her gown ride up high on her leg, but she was beyond caring in her current state.
"Rest, angel. I’ll keep watch over you." Az sighed heavily, carding his fingers through her hair. "Those fuckers," he growled.
And she was out like a light, falling asleep to fingers stroking firmly through her hair and the sound of Az rumbling lullabies in that guttural, foreign language of his.