Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
My sleeps were haunted by nightmares—visions of my parents’ lifeless bodies drifting down the river, their faces scratched and marred with blood.
One dream in particular terrified me, where Draven and I stood, facing each other, our lips crimson-stained.
I would wake up screaming, but his soothing voice would quickly reassure me that it was just a dream, reminding me that I was safe in his embrace.
Most nights, I fell asleep with Draven by my side.
Often, when I stirred in the night, I’d find him seated in a chair, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows across his angular features.
His mind seemed forever restless, thoughts swirling, refusing to grant him peace.
Sometimes, he would gaze out into the night, lost in contemplation, or immerse himself in a book.
Yet, the moment he sensed me awake, he would return to bed, wrapping me in his arms until my unease melted away in his presence.
My curiosity about Draven’s research had not waned, and over the course of a few weeks, I brought it up on several occasions.
Each time he danced around the subject; his charm was frustratingly effective.
With a captivating smile, he would shift the conversation and distract me with a kiss.
I recognized his tactics, but my determination only grew stronger.
I’ve stopped writing letters to Vail. Instead, I headed into town every few days to visit her.
We enjoyed shopping together or sitting at a café, catching up on each other’s lives.
Occasionally, I noticed the people of Elmcross watching me, perhaps wondering where I might be residing.
At times, I would catch Vail looking at me with concern, though I reassured her she had nothing to fear.
Despite the watchful eyes around us, I told Vail every detail of my growing relationship. She always listened with genuine interest. She wore a velvet necklace with a single pearl, a gift from someone special, she claimed. Yet, whenever I asked about the giver, she remained tight-lipped.
During one of our conversations, Vail expressed her desire to meet Draven. I promised her that one day, when he was not so busy, we could arrange a dinner for them to meet.
As I made my way home one evening, I felt the weight of time pressing on me.
The sun was setting later in the day, casting long shadows through the trees.
The sky darkened rapidly as I walked toward Thornwood Manor.
The conversations with Vail still echoed in my mind, distracting me from the dwindling daylight.
Approaching the familiar grounds, an unsettling sense of foreboding washed over me.
I pulled off my hood, straining to hear the rustle of leaves and the whispers of the night that surrounded me.
Each sound seemed amplified in the growing darkness, sharpening my awareness and setting my nerves on edge.
A subtle movement made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I quickened my pace, but the sound shifted again, seeming to close in around me. A rush of emotions swirled inside of me, yet I did nothing but freeze as images of the Blood Hunter who killed my mother entered my mind.
I stood paralyzed, listening, a heavy weight pushing down on me, and the edges of my vision tunnelled as I willed my legs to move.
A branch snapped behind me, and I bolted, heart racing as I sprinted toward the gate.
The cobblestone path stretched out before me, the sound of my hurried steps echoing in the stillness of the night.
An uneven stone sent me sprawling to the ground, my knees crashing into the mud.
Panic surged within me as I felt a hand land on my shoulder.
“No! Don’t kill me!” I cried out, shielding myself against the beast I was convinced was upon me. But instead of teeth tearing into my flesh, I heard a familiar, calming voice.
“Rosalia, please, it’s me. Do not worry.”
Tears clung to my lashes as I looked up, my heart racing wildly in my chest. Draven’s face swam into view, framed by his long hair. He extended his hand, helping me to my feet and enveloping me in his arms.
“It’s all right,” Draven said, kissing the top of my head, his breath warm.
I clung to him, feeling foolish for my overreaction.
I should have had my dagger with me. But I’d grown complacent in my living situation, and now I regretted it.
I shivered into his chest. My limbs felt weak, and I realized I couldn’t afford to let my guard down again.
“You are freezing. Let’s get you inside.”
Trembling, I followed Draven into the mansion. Imalda was sweeping the floors as we entered.
“Imalda, prepare Miss Bertrand’s bath, please.”
She hurried up the stairs without a second thought.
Draven carried me to my room and placed me in a chair. I glanced down at myself, horrified to see my dress caked in mud. I could only imagine it had woven its way into my hair as well. Another ruined dress, I thought with a sigh.
Draven went into the bathing chambers and brought me a damp cloth. “I will return shortly,” he said, kissing my forehead before slipping out the door.
I lifted the hem of my dress and gasped—my knees were streaked with blood, fresh cuts glistening angrily against my skin.
Slipping off my shoes, I began to roll down my stockings, wincing as the fabric tugged at the sticky wounds.
Just then, Imalda stepped out of the bathing chambers to announce that the bath was ready.
She gently helped me to my feet, turned me around, and began unfastening the buttons of my dress.
Once she left, I eased myself into the tub, the warm water enveloping me like a gentle embrace.
Slowly, the tension in my body began to melt away, dissolving like frost beneath the morning sun.
Draven returned with a soft knock on the door, a cup of tea in one hand, and wearing no shirt. His chest glistened with sweat, muscles taut beneath the flickering candlelight.
“Where is your shirt?” I asked, instinctively crossing my arms over my chest and sinking deeper beneath the water’s surface.
He set the teacup on the small table beside the tub and settled into a chair in the corner.
“I checked the grounds,” he said casually. “Wanted to make sure no one was lurking.”
“And that required losing your shirt?” I arched a brow.
“It got dirty.” A muscle in his jaw twitched as he said it.
I narrowed my eyes, silently questioning what exactly he’d done in the short time he was gone to warrant shedding his clothes. His gaze finally drifted toward me—then snapped away the moment he realized just how exposed I was.
“I should go,” Draven muttered, already rising to his feet.
I reached out to stop him. “Wait. Would you like to join me?”
I noticed a flicker in his eyes, an unspoken vulnerability that mirrored my own.
The atmosphere in the room shifted, thickening with a tension that crackled between us like lightning.
My heart raced with anticipation as I turned my gaze toward the water, feeling his presence draw nearer, enveloping me with a sense of possibility.
The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as Draven removed the rest of his clothing. I shuffled forward in the tub, which was spacious enough to accommodate both of us, as he lowered himself into the water behind me.
Though I could not see him, I was acutely aware of the proximity of his body to my own. Every nerve in my body tingled with the awareness of his presence.
I kept my eyes fixed on the water, my cheeks flushed, and I felt overwhelmed, struggling to find my voice as the silence stretched on.
The only sounds were the soft movements of bathwater and the hushed rhythm of our shared breaths.
We were naked together, and I felt a warm rush of desire intertwined with a flutter of nervousness.
Draven picked up the soap and started lathering my hair. His touch was gentle as he began to wash away the dirt from the ends. His fingers worked through, massaging my scalp with care and tenderness.
Finally, he spoke, his voice a low, husky whisper, “Rosalia, I want you to know that you are safe here with me. You have nothing to be afraid of.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and I turned my head slightly to catch a glimpse of his eyes, now narrow and intense.
“I know,” I told him. “I get nervous at night alone, and I feel foolish for losing track of time today.”
His hands worked in gentle movements through my hair, his touch as comforting as it was reassuring. “You never have to worry when you are with me. I will always be here to protect you,” he murmured.
A shiver ran down my spine, and I wasn’t sure if it was from feeling vulnerable or if the tenderness in this moment awoke something deeper. A quiet yearning for the kind of safety I was too scared to admit I needed.
“I know,” I said again.
When Draven finished washing my hair, I turned around to face him. I could faintly see his body below the murky water, but I tried to keep my eyes fixated on his face and shoulders.
“I have been wanting to confess something to you for a while now,” Draven started, his voice hesitant but filled with a raw honesty that held my attention. “It’s hard to put into words. I am not sure how you will take the news.”
My heart quickened as curiosity stirred within me.
“It concerns the research I have conducted with the doctor,” he continued.
I nodded. “I have been curious about that for some time.”
“It is for me,” Draven admitted.
I furrowed my brows in confusion. “What do you mean by that?” I reached out and placed my hand on his arm, resting on the edge of the tub.
He took a deep breath, his eyes still locked onto mine. “I have a disease.”
A wave of concern crashed over me. I looked at the man in front of me, someone I’d grown so close to, and the thought of losing him, of death taking him too, made my chest tighten.
“What kind of disease?” I asked, my voice rising with urgency. “Are you going to die?”
I moved closer, our legs brushing beneath the water until I was nearly in his lap, clinging to him without even realizing it.
Draven shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Do not worry. I am nowhere near death,” he said gently, reaching out to touch my arm. His hand was warm and reassuring, and the contact brought a rush of relief through me.
“I have an aversion to the sun.”
“The sun?” I asked, trying to comprehend the implications of his disease.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “My skin is too sensitive. I have been meaning to tell you because I feel you’ve grown suspicious of that aspect of my life.”
“How long have you had this condition?”
Draven let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
“It’s been many years,” he began. “I am forced to be confined indoors during the day, unable to step out into the sun’s rays without suffering the consequences.
Occasionally, during winter’s embrace, when the sky is covered with thick clouds, I can steal a fleeting moment outdoors.
Though the warmth of the sun on my skin …
it has been a long time since I have felt that. ”
His confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of years of solitude and isolation. I felt a pang of sympathy for him. Imagining the loneliness he must have endured, confined in the shadows while the world basked in the light of day.
“I cannot imagine how difficult that must be,” I murmured.
“To be denied something so simple, yet so essential.” I grasped his hand in mine, noting the sun-kissed tan of my skin from months spent in the garden.
As our fingers intertwined, I couldn’t help but notice how his hands matched the soft hue of the porcelain tub.
“I have grown accustomed to it. But sometimes, I long to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin again, if only for a moment.”
He brushed his thumb over mine.
“Having you here has made it all more bearable. Before I met you, I did not realize how plagued I was by the absence of light, how I was stewing in the darkness. But with you in my life, I have begun to feel again, and for the first time, I feel like I am in the sun.”
I squeezed his hand, a rush of affection rising in my chest. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to his, my fingers slipping into his hair as he pulled me closer.
“My heart,” Draven murmured against my lips. “You have my heart completely, Rosalia. It is yours.” His lips continued along the curve of my neck. “You have become the light in my life, the one person who brings warmth into my world.”
I met his gaze, my heart aching with the weight of everything I felt. I took a steadying breath, my voice trembling. “Draven, I feel I am falling in love with you.” In an instant, he swept me up in his arms, his lips crashing against mine.
Stepping out of the tub, he carried me to the bed. That night marked the beginning of our journey together, the moment when my heart found its home in his.