Chapter Twelve
Vanessa
I did as Vil suggested and showered. Although I wanted to luxuriate in the hot water and clean feeling, I cut it short. Better to do that and be dressed when he returned than be caught naked.
Vil wouldn’t barge in on me like that just to get a view … would he?
I washed carefully, noting the bruises from the seatbelt that were new additions to the tapestry of my body. Rinsing off, I shoved aside the uncomfortable feeling as my fingertips rubbed over my sternum and the myriad bumps and ripples that remained even now.
They’re never going away. Ever. So just get over it. You have to learn to deal with what happened.
Angrily, I shut off the water with a smack of my hand and stepped out of the glorious glass-encased shower stall.
The thick, luxurious towel came to hand, and I relaxed into its embrace, pointedly turning away from the mirror so that I didn’t have to see the ruin that was my middle torso.
Maybe it wouldn’t bother me one day, but I wasn’t there yet.
I dried off quickly and then ransacked the closet until I found the aforementioned sweatpants and shirt. They were large enough that I felt like a child in his clothing, but they were warm and comfortable … and smelled like boy.
Shaking off the upswell of warm tingles that the aroma threatened to bring to life, I decided to explore, rolling up the sleeves, legs, and even the waistband as best I could. It was still a comical look, but I was dry and warm and clean. It was hard to argue with that.
Stifling a yawn, I went to the front door and turned the handle. I couldn’t escape, I wasn’t that stupid, but perhaps I could find out more about where I was. Maybe someone else would be willing to take me home.
The door handle didn’t turn. I twisted harder, but it still didn’t move.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said to the empty room, dumbfounded by the realization. “I’m a prisoner?”
These were his rooms, though. Why would he have a lock on the outside? I examined the handle, but there was no manual deadbolt to turn. Just a hole above the door that didn’t even look like it would fit a key. It was too large, but I had no idea what it was for.
“Sonofa—”
I turned and stormed across the room, flinging open every door I could. Closet. Closet. Bedroom. Study. I paused at that last one, noting the rows of notebooks on the shelves. They very clearly went from quite old to quite new.
“Now, what are these all about?” I mumbled, looking at the books. Without thinking of any consequences, I grabbed the newest one. I’d have preferred old books, but the fragility of them left me wary. I wouldn’t be the one to destroy an old book. That was just rude.
So I took the newest one and went back to the bed, flopping down. The name card in the front indicated it had belonged to a Prince Titanium.
“Titanium,” I said as I skimmed. “How humble a name.”
As it turned out, it was Vil’s father. I knew because there were entire pages dedicated to him. I didn’t read it all out of respect for privacy, but there was one constant throughout the entire book, each page a single day of entry: references to his mate, a Princess Iridium, or Iri.
Although it struck me as strange that everyone was named after a metal, what caught my eye the most was the final entry.
Today the God-King has called us. After a century of service, my mate and I will make one final journey to the top of Mount Drakonus. Although I fear not for myself or Iri, for the God-King will take care of us as he has my father before him and his father, etc., I do have worries.
Anvil is a strong man, and he will be a good prince.
Perhaps a better one than I. But Adamantine is up to something.
I don’t know what that slimy toad has planned, but Vil will have to handle it.
If he doesn’t, the consequences for our clan could be dire.
I fear what might happen if we stray from the God-King’s path.
My mate is calling for me now. She says I’ve already written more than is necessary.
That this will be our last day, and she wants to spend it with me.
And I will not begrudge her. Iri is the best thing to happen to me, and I have spent every day of the past century living out my dream with her.
My only wish is that my son will find his mate.
Something is wrong there. Not with Vil, but with fate. I do not know what the God-King has in store for him, but I worry that he will have to look elsewhere for the one who will rule at his side after passing the Test. Perhaps even outside the other clans …
I must go now. If you are reading this, my son, know that I have, and will always, love you.
You are my greatest creation and the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Words cannot express how proud I am of what you have done and what you will do.
I only regret I won’t be there in person to see it.
But the God-King wills it, and so I obey, as do we all.
-Prince Titanium
I took a moment, blinking furiously after the last paragraph while wondering what all that business was about being called to the God-King. Not to mention the Nine and that Adamantine person.
Just what the heck had Vil gotten me involved in?
Curious to learn more, I replaced the notebook and grabbed another, settling down on the bed with the best of intentions to read it.
“Vanessa?”
I blinked rapidly, my eyes coming unstuck as the thin film of crust broke apart, freeing them. “Huh? What?”
Vil was standing next to the bed, a warm smile on his face as he looked down at me. I immediately came awake as warm butterflies filled my stomach, practically lifting me from the bed on their own.
“How are you feeling?”
“Um.” I tried to get up—from his bed, oh, god, had I really passed out in it? —and my body screamed in protest. I swiftly lay back. “Not good. Everything hurts.”
He nodded. “I figured it would. You’ve been sleeping for ten hours or so.”
“What?” I gaped at him. “Seriously?”
I thought maybe I’d just closed my eyes, and he’d come back from wherever it was he’d gone off to.
“I came to check on you several times, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Thanks … I think.” I winced as my joints and muscles voiced their complaints about the current situation. “My whole body hurts.”
“You had quite the night.”
I flinched as an image of RJ’s blank face filled my brain. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I guess I did.”
“I can help,” he said, lifting a mug beside me. “If you drink this, it will help you heal.”
I frowned. There was something off about his tone. He wasn’t trying to hide it either. “What is it? Why do you sound so hesitant?”
“It’s mostly fruit juice.”
“Mostly?”
He sighed and crouched down next to me. “Dragon’s possess … healing powers. We heal fast.” He pointed to a nearly healed cut on the underside of his forearm that I hadn’t noticed before. “This is thirty minutes old.”
I snorted. The skin was clearly pink and almost healed.
Vil just looked at me levelly. “I cut it open so that I could put some of my blood in the drink.”
I recoiled. “You what?”
“My blood will help you heal. If you choose to drink it. I’m not going to force it on you. But if you drink it, you’ll feel better in a very short period of time. The choice is entirely yours.”
I looked at the mug, then at him. “You’re serious.”
“You want to feel better. So drink the drink. It won’t taste good, but you’ll be able to move normally and feel better.”
Again, I stared at it.
“If I wanted to poison or drug you, I could have done that at any point before now,” he said, getting up. “The choice is yours.”
He walked out of the bedroom to sit in the main lounge section, waiting for me.
Even like that, he looked good. His hair was styled, and the side profile only enhanced the already attractive lines of his face, the strong, square-cut jaw, and those eyes. They were entrancing.
“Drink dragon blood?” I said to nobody in particular, gently easing myself into a sitting position, wincing and hissing in pain nonstop. Even just sitting there hurt.
Fuck this.
I grabbed the mug and, without letting myself second-guess the decision, downed the entire concoction.
“Gah,” I exclaimed. “That was awful. You need to eat more fruits.”
Vil turned his head. “What?”
“More fruit. It works for other things. I’m sure it works to make your blood tastier, too,” I said.
Vil stared at me, confused.
“Never mind,” I said, absolutely not willing to explain that one to him.
I sat for several minutes on the bed.
“How do you feel?” he asked, coming to stand in the doorway.
“Not bad,” I was forced to admit. The pain had stopped and even faded. I stood, and there was but a twinge of irritation. Curious, I yanked the collar of his shirt down to examine the bruises from the seatbelt.
They were almost gone.
“Freaking hell,” I breathed, shocked. “That’s impossible.”
“So is a person being a dragon in disguise,” he pointed out. “Yet here I am.”
“Yet here you are,” I agreed, looking down at the bed and the notebook that had fallen off my chest at some point.
“You read some,” Vil said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I skimmed your father’s, Prince Titanium’s.”
Vil just grunted.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“Why?”
“Mostly so I can ask him how he did such a shit job raising a son who thinks it’s okay to kidnap women and take them to his secret castle in another realm without asking their permission first,” I said, unable to hide my ire at the whole situation.
“He’s dead,” Vil said flatly.
“Dead?” Crap. “But I thought he just went to be with the God-King? Whatever that is.”
“The God-King is real,” Vil said. “He’s the immortal ruler of all dragon kind. He created the clans and the rules by which we live. And one of those rules is that every one hundred years, the princes and princesses of each clan are called to him.”
“And?”
“And that’s it,” he said with a shrug. “They go and are never seen or heard from again. So they’re dead.”
My jaw dropped. “What? That’s absolutely barbaric!”
Vil didn’t disagree. “It keeps the rule of the clans fresh, free from becoming stagnant. That’s the reasoning, as far as we understand it.”
“I see.”
“You’re taking this rather well,” he said.
“Taking what well?”
“All of it. Me, dragons, the God-King. Everything.”
I shrugged, the motion producing no pain.
“Vil, long ago, I learned I was unlikely to ever live in a world I truly admired and believed to be ‘good.’ So I read. I escaped into fantasy worlds, many of which were worse than the one I lived in. Lands of faeries and magic and all that sort of thing. True, I never believed in any of it, but to see it coming true is kind of awesome, in a way. Except for the part where you kidnapped me,” I added.
“What about the part where I saved you?” he said in a softer tone than he usually used.
I looked away. Not because of what he had said. But his question reminded me of the car accident and what had caused the car accident. I shuddered, trying to put it out of my mind.
You aren’t like him. It was true self-defense. You had no choice. You aren’t like him.
I repeated that line over and over and over. But it didn’t have much of an effect. The darkness at the center of me lingered.
“Hey,” Vil said, stepping closer until he was in my personal space. “It’s okay, Vanessa. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s not that,” I said, shaking my head and fighting the urge to throw myself into his arms.
He kidnapped you. Don’t take solace in him!
“What is it, then?” he asked softly, his eyes a pale silver, full of concern. For me. “What’s bothering you?”
I stared into his face, trying to figure out how to explain it. How did I tell him?
Just do it. Just say it.
“I … I killed someone,” I said, the words spoken in the barest ghost of a whisper.
I waited for his reaction.