Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
T urning to face me, Dominic’s expression was indecipherable as he devoured the space between us. His finger traced the line of my jaw, down my neck, across my jugular. Silence.
Say something. Explain the situation. Ease the tension.
“Dominic,” I whispered.
He remained withdrawn in his thoughts as his finger returned to the curve of my neck. I was fully aware that the fingers that lingered over the arteries in my neck could become claws in a matter of seconds. I swallowed when he pulled me to him, his hand twining around my hair. He yanked. Kneeling down at the threshold of the door, he laid the strands of hair across it.
“You have to ask before you do that,” I snapped.
His head canted ever so slightly, the blaze of his eyes and his posture showing a raw resistance to my command. Clearly a man not used to letting people know what he’s about to do.
“It’s a simple request for courtesy.”
“Or I could just not place the ward.”
“Really.” I frowned. “At my request for a basic display of manners, you counter with leaving me vulnerable to your sister’s whims?”
His crisp gaze lingered on me. Malice pulsed in his eyes and in a draw of breath, he was in front of me, his hand gently lacing through my hair. Heat from his body snaked around me. The intensity of his gaze as they held mine… a raging inferno lived in it. The previous strands of hair he’d taken from me were coiled around his finger.
“May I?” The heat in his voice seemed to be asking about more than just follicles for a spell.
“Yeah,” I whispered in a low rasp.
“Thank you, Luna.” The proximity of his body and primal sensuality that existed in any space he occupied made me think with my hormones instead of with the higher thinking that I desperately needed.
Luna, you’re trying to make a point. Despite my victory, it felt hollow because he’d taken something from this interaction. It showed in his salacious smirk.
“Remember, once you cross it, the ward is disabled, allowing others to get in as well. Stay on this side of the door.”
“This is where I’m staying?”
He nodded. “You’ll be my guest here,” he said. I preferred this politer version of ‘my room is probably the only way to keep my sister from murdering you.’
During the first hour of Dominic’s absence, I made myself familiar with my surroundings. Calling it a bedroom didn’t begin to cover it. Bedrooms didn’t have a kitchen, laundry, and two sitting rooms, one in the anteroom and the other in his bedroom. Sleep didn’t come, so I curled up on the large circular chair in the bedroom with a book I’d found on the bookshelf. I’d perused several spellbooks; there was another that looked like a historical account of the supernatural world. I ignored the spellbooks. The night— No, the past few weeks had made me apprehensive about dealing with spellbooks. The account didn’t offer anything more than what Dominic had already shared. It did give me a little more insight as to why Anand preferred living in the underworld to living among the others, which was that interspecies were often regarded poorly. If mixed with a human, they were viewed as a lesser being, their power diminished: for example, a human-shifter couldn’t shift but retained some enhanced abilities. The few that were able to shift couldn’t maintain the form long enough for it to be any use to them. They were never allowed to be part of a pack or pride. If the half-shifter was the result of the woman in the pack becoming pregnant, she was given the choice to abandon her child to the father or leave. The father was not given the option and was cast out.
Children who were human-witch combination were rare because witches valued protection of the strength of their magic over everything. Although a witch wasn’t thrown out of their coven for the violation, their offspring was forbidden to mate with another witch. The diluted bloodline ended with their child. Because human-witch children only presented with a nominal level of magic, the magic line was quickly diluted.
Vampires couldn’t have children, losing their ability to procreate once they were changed. The vampires they sired were considered their children.
Studying the book, I couldn’t help but think of Anand, a hybrid therefore considered weak and a demonstration of a weakened bloodline. Inconsequential. I’d seen Anand’s abilities. There wasn’t anything weak or inconsequential about him. His stealth, ability to go undetected in any environment, heightened senses, and lightning-fast reflexes, which I was sure was attributed to his magic, were not what was generally believed.
What happened to supernaturals who contradicted established beliefs? Was it his choice to live in the underworld to seek refuge among those who wouldn’t judge him or didn’t care about those things? But whatever Anand’s abilities were, I doubted they exceeded Helena’s and Dominic’s.
The historical accounts of the supernaturals in reality were a drastic contrast to the diluted fantastical view found in the Discovery of Magic that Reginald had given me. But anything could be viewed that way when the quest for power, cruelty, politics, and violence was removed.
I didn’t need any reminders, but it was the nudge into action I needed. I didn’t want to live in the underworld. It was an unlikely option anyway. If they didn’t find a way to break the spell and free themselves and taking my life was the prevailing option, I wouldn’t survive my stay.
How long did I have before their patience grew thin?
Despite fixating on the metaphorical ticking clock, I managed to fall asleep after setting aside the supernatural history book and attempting to read Le Comte de Monte-Cristo , putting my infrequently used French to use. Five pages in, I realized why it was infrequently used: I wasn’t good at it. Trading it in for the English translation, The Count of Monte Cristo , I slipped into an uneasy sleep.
Startled awake by a hard knock on the door, I quickly came to my feet and answered the door, book clutched to my chest. Dominic, carrying two bags, was waiting.
“You need to let me in.”
“Come in,” I said, stepping aside.
His eyes dropped to the door. Rust and purple waves burst across the threshold before pushing him back. It was comforting to see the ward’s effectiveness. When I stepped over the threshold, the pressure of the ward gripped my leg before releasing it. Dominic, now free to enter, came in and placed the bags on the trunk-style desk, which had become my favorite item in the room. Surrounded by clean lines, sterile neutral colors, and minimalist décor, I appreciated the whimsy of buckles on a desk. They worked and I was sure there was a story behind it that I was interested to learn.
“Clothing and essentials,” he told me as he opened the larger bag, revealing its contents.
“Thank you. There are stores here?”
He shook his head. “We keep supplies for those who work here. And guests.”
“How often do you all have guests?”
The underworld didn’t seem like a popular trip destination. But before the transfer of duties, Dominic had been the arbiter of punishment for the supernatural world. A hostile situation instigated by his sister had required him to give up that power in order to protect her. The other people who resided in the underworld were those who’d struck a mutually beneficial deal to work there. Once the term of the contract was over, magic would be used to wipe their memories. They wouldn’t remember the nice clothing they were given, the mansion where they resided, the prince they worked for, and all the peculiar things of the underworld that would make them compare and maybe appreciate their own world. Or recall the darkness of this world. A sun that never rose, a sky that was always dim, and a garden with the darkest of plants. No memories of the place devoid of greenery and sunlight so they’d appreciate those things even more upon their return.
I clawed my way from the despair that wanted to creep in and focused on what was in the bag.
Holding a button-down against my body, I looked at him.
Restrained laughter made his lips twitch.
I’d ask Dominic for a belt or scarf that I could tie around the waist so I could wear the shirt as a dress. Certain styles I avoided because they brought attention to my vertical challenges. This shirt wasn’t one of them. Sorting through the various bits of clothing, I found several pairs of leggings, my preferred t-shirts both oversized and fitted, and jeans. There appeared to be enough to last me a little over a week. I hoped there wouldn’t be a need for all of it and that I would soon be back home, coming up with believable excuses to explain my absence to everyone.
“Did you get anything from questioning Vadim, Celeste, and Roman?” I asked, refolding the clothes and stacking them on the desk.
His eyebrows rose and then his gaze followed mine to the bloodstain on his shirt. It was an educated guess, but he’d left like a man in desperate need of answers. I wanted some, too.
“Vadim and I are rarely civil when we interact.” The shifter with magical abilities and immunity to silver. An anomaly among shifters.
I wondered if he managed to be civil with Roman, whose claws were poisonous to him. I distinctly remembered Rei, an Awakener, being excited to have Dominic come in contact with the vampire’s claws. They were poisonous, causing a magic wielder to lose his magic until the poison was out of his system. Expecting vicious-looking claws like Helena’s and Dominic’s, I was surprised by Roman’s slightly curved, seemingly innocuous nails. He was the worst of the worst, possessing an ability I hadn’t seen with other vamps. A shudder of fear went through me at the thought of the third prisoner, Celeste, whose touch could kill.
“Did they know anything?”
He shook his head. “If they do, they’re not revealing the information no matter what is done to them. Peter’s freedom increased their chances of them getting their own, permanently.”
“Can he release them again?”
“I don’t think it’s possible with you here. I’m still not convinced that him using you to release them the first time was a coincidence.”
Once again, I was under his heavy gaze, but I didn’t entertain comment because I felt differently. Me being locked in here now wasn’t a coincidence, but I thought my initial entanglement was a crime of opportunity.
“If they are ever released and determine that they can’t be returned to their prison, the chaos begins. A civil war where there will be no impunity for the victor.”
“You’ll do nothing about it?”
“I will.”
I took his terse response, accepting being spared the details of the violence and death that would be needed to control the situation. And the inevitable firestorm he would face from other witches if he had to kill Celeste, whose magical link to the most powerful witches in existence meant that they would die as well.
Fear of what this meant for not just the supernaturals, but humans as well, brought new clarity. Everything I’d learned and experienced during my initial visit to the underworld raced through my mind.
“I might be able to leave,” I rushed out, recalling the use of the Trapsen he’d given me before, which allowed me to travel between the two worlds. “And get help,” I tacked on with zero confidence that was possible, because negotiation was why the responsibility of regulating the supernaturals had been taken from Dominic and returned to Demetrius. I had not made friends of the Awakeners, who wanted to expose the world to the existence of supernaturals, not as a courtesy to allow them to navigate a world where they were pawns between those who wanted to remain hidden and those who didn’t, but because they felt that exposure would elevate the supernaturals to the top of the food chain, putting humans at the bottom where they would be treated in ways that would serve as a reminder of their lowly status. Things weren’t much better with those who wanted to stay hidden, because if a human gained any knowledge of them, usually as a result of a supernatural’s failure, humans paid. Magic was used on them to wipe their minds, or they were compelled by a vampire to believe what the supernaturals wanted them to believe.
Dominic pulled the triangular prism from his pocket and handed it to me. “I figured you’d want to try. I’m not hopeful that it will work.” He flashed a small knife, which I’d need to draw blood and close around the Trapsen to activate it.
“It’s worth a try,” I said.
“If it does, then what?” His voice was neutral and his expression mild.
“I’ll get Nailah to help me.” Of the people I’d met, she’d exhibited the level of diplomacy that may yield the best results. “Have you tried it?”
He nodded.
“Give me Nailah’s info and I’ll contact her.” Their Seer appeared to have a rapport with the Conventicle’s representatives. Or at the very least, she didn’t seem to antagonize them to the extent Anand and Dominic did.
I tucked away the piece of paper containing the various ways to contact her, including a spell, which I wasn’t sure was useful to me.
“Ready?” Dominic asked.
I nodded and extended my hand to him. After a quick prick from the blade, I closed my fingers around the Trapsen, making sure it made contact with the welling blood. Closing my eyes, I imagined my small apartment. Home. Home. Home. How very Wizard of Oz . But I continued the silent chant with the entreat of a plea.
When I reopened them, Dominic had invaded the space between us, his expression expectant.
“Trapped here.”
Maybe he had felt some hope for success, because anger and the promise of unspeakable revenge tinged his voice. He was putting a great deal of effort in subduing the raging beast who didn’t appreciate being trapped.
After several minutes working for that control, he found it. Exhaling a slow breath, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt then the front buttons. When he shrugged off his shirt, my gaze moved from his face to the intricate sigils snaking around his body that made him immune to witch magic.
“Shower,” he said, leaving the room.
To stop myself trailing after him, I returned to sorting through the remainder of the clothing. I found a few dresses, a pair of black heels, and flats, which surprisingly fit. Unzipping the smaller bag, I found underwear and socks. Warmth inched up my cheeks at the thought of him picking these items for me, then I wondered if he had chosen them or had someone else do it. There was a collection of cotton hipsters and briefs, lacy thongs, and cheeky panties. The same with the bras: comfortable-looking sports bras, balconette, satin and lace embroidered plunge ones, and even several sheer bras that served no other purpose than to be sexy. Even the assortment of footwear ranged from simple ankle socks to thick fluffy ones with hints of lavender permeating off them. Sleepwear consisted of oversized shirts and tanks with matching wide-leg pants, all nicer than anything I’d wear to sleep in. Barely there tank and matching shorts so cute there wouldn’t be any sleeping, and an ultra-soft cami.
Thoughts of our sleeping arrangements were interrupted by Dominic calling me from the door. A towel was wrapped low around his waist, his hair was wet and messy, and the dimmed light cast a shadow that darkened his eyes.
“I’m out of the shower,” he said. “It’s free if you need it,” he added, answering my expression of confusion.
“Where am I sleeping?” I asked, grabbing the cami and panties and following him into the room.
“Wherever you’d like.” He moved to the bed, dropping the towel and giving me a glimpse of his ass before sliding on a pair of briefs and getting into the bed.
It was nearly impossible to enjoy the shower, the waterfall showerhead, the dark and jagged stacked stones surrounding me, and the soft lights designed to create a relaxing experience. I should have focused on all that, but my mind kept going to the sexy-as-sin prince just outside my door. Showered, I stacked my towel-dried hair into a messy bun and slipped on the clothes.
Dominic was sprawled on one side of the bed, the top sheet over the lower half of his body, the duvet rolled away. I had an unobstructed view of more sigils covering his back. I eased into the opposite side, which was larger than any king-size bed I’d ever seen. It was massive, which put to rest any worries of unintentional intimacy. If we neared each other for any reason, it would be intentional.
As it was when he moved, rolling toward me. Amber eyes a silhouette of a dying flame but with the raging intensity of a forest fire. Lightly brushing his lips against mine, softly at first, he then kissed me harder. Firm hands pressed into my back, kneading at my skin. The warmth of his body engulfed me. I wanted more. Needed more. When he pulled away, he was panting. Soft breath wisped across my lips. His fingers ran over the soft material at the front of the cami, making my nipples harden. His desire was palpable, along with his restraint.
“Why did you stop?” I whispered.
“We have a busy day tomorrow.”
That was a BS answer if I ever heard one. He’d questioned the prisoners. They hadn’t given him any answers about Peter, but maybe they’d disclosed something about me that left him unconvinced that me being in their lives wasn’t coincidental.
“Goodnight,” he whispered, turning his back to me. It was difficult to turn from him, ignore him, despite there being enough space to ignore the other’s existence, or at least give it a gallant try. Dominic wasn’t a presence that could be ignored. Eventually I turned my back to him.
“What’s the worst-case scenario?” I asked.
My question was met with a contemplative silence.
“That you’re more than you appear to be, a tool of chaos that needs to be handled,” he admitted eventually. The prince wasn’t one to coddle. I guessed I should appreciate that, for the second time today, he’d taken care with his wording. It might have been a verbal act of kindness, but it didn’t chase away the knowledge of how the supernatural community ‘handled’ things.
I tried to wish him a good night, but the words were stuck. I settled into the uncomfortable silence.