Chapter 11 | Sephania
Sephania
After I finish dominating my lovely dhampir, Garro loops his arm around my body, holds me close, and swings us down through the window into our bedroom for the morning.
The sky is a radiant pink hue as we step into the room on boneless legs. The sun is still at least an hour out from showing its bright face above the mountain crest.
I’ve made a mess of my mate, and as I settle into the bed with Garro, I wonder how he, Vall, and Skar manage to keep me so feral and uncontrolled around them. I can’t deny the erotic pull from each of my vampires, with a different slant to my lustfulness informing how I approach each man.
Garroway is asleep within seconds of his head hitting the cot, lightly snoring as the open window grows brighter by the minute.
My raucous evening runs through my mind, keeping me awake, and I decide I need some alone time before finally passing out.
So, against my better judgment, I creep out from the bed.
I close one side of the window aperture, angling the sunlight so it won’t lance my dhampir while he sleeps, and head downstairs to the brothel.
The base level of the brothel is quiet, with only a single hanger-on at the bar swaying in his seat. The barman eyes the drunkard intermittently while polishing off cups with a rag, not even noticing as I pad through the room and out the front door.
On our way in earlier, I noticed a small outhouse, which I hope has the accouterments I’m looking for. The small structure, is unguarded and empty.
Inside, a small bathhouse sits, the water slightly murky but serviceable. I’d prefer a river to bathe in, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m as likely to find a river in the middle of Nuhav’s busy city as I am to find empathy in Olhav.
Glancing over my shoulders out the door, I keep it cracked and peel out of my clammy clothes before wading into the bath and letting out a contented sigh. I submerge, letting the water rush over me and speak dully in my ears. The world drowns away once I’m under, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
A moment later, I stand, keeping my bare back to the door and running hands through the wet hair plastered to my scalp. The water is lukewarm and inviting. I know I’ll sleep well this morning once I head upstairs.
“You need not fear me, little grimmer.”
The voice behind me jolts my system so badly I nearly black out from a rush of sensations. My arms instinctively bar across my breasts as I spin around in the water, face brightening with shock.
A tall man stands in the doorway, silhouetted by the orange hue of dawn behind him. With a dark cloak wrapped around his body, he forms a striking figure. Though I can’t see his face, I can’t ignore his body and familiar stature.
Lukain Mortis has found me. Alone. Naked. Wet. Recently well-fucked.
My eyes dart to my clothes and gear against the closest bank of the bath, where my swords lay in their scabbards.
“Please don’t,” he says in his deep voice, and I swear there’s pity in his tone. He takes a step closer, materializing from the dark corner, his face drifting into recognition.
My eyes search his pale red eyes, the sadness sinking his handsome face, and the many scars from when he fought Skartovius. He wears a long, violet scarf around his neck, hiding the burns across his neck. The scarf flutters in the breeze at his side.
“How did you find me?” I breathe, sensing the danger emanating from him.
“I haven’t stopped shadowing you in all the years we’ve been apart. Your alleyway violence, your little rooftop . . . games.” He spits the last word.
My heart slams against my ribs. He saw all that?!
“I’ve tasted you, little grimmer. I am a part of you, whether you want to admit it or not. Just as you cannot hide from me, you cannot escape me.”
He strides forward, forcing me to backpedal in the sloshing water. I feel vulnerable as he stares down at me, three feet below him like I’m in the shadowgala fighting pit again. Except this time I’m nude, weaponless, and surrounded by water that makes me slow-moving.
If my old master decides to strike me, I’ll have hardly any defense against him.
“Why?” I demand, my voice barbed with anger.
“I came to you at Sutlis Spire because I believed in you, Mas—Lukain. I let myself get caught in Alacine’s web, put myself through months of misery at your thrall’s hands, and for what?
I trusted everyone was wrong about you. I wouldn’t believe Skar, Vall, or Garro, even when they warned me you couldn’t be trusted. ”
My face darkens, the anger pulsing a vein at my temple as I take a daring step forward in the pool.
I let my arms fall from my breasts, uncaring if he sees me in my current state.
“And they were right,” I finish with a snarl.
“I needed to hear it from your mouth, and you told me exactly what you did.”
“Yes, but not the reasons—”
“The reasons are irrelevant! Don’t you see that?” I seethe, narrowing my eyes. “You molded me into a fighter, Master Lukain, and taught me pleasures I’d never known, just to abandon me when things got tough. Just to please your vile mother.”
Lukain sighs. He moves again, and now he’s only a few feet away at the edge of the bath. “Alacine is not your enemy, little grimmer. You must know, the man you’re working with, Lord Ashfen, is the true adversary here.”
I throw my head back incredulously. “I don’t believe you. Why should I? You’ve given me no reason to.”
“What must I do to prove myself to you? Would you like me to kneel? Beg? Grovel?”
Yes, all that and more. And it might not be enough to trust you ever again. “I nearly had my blood drained because of you!”
“I would have never let it get that far. Alacine and I both commanded no harm come to you. You are too important.”
“My importance doesn’t matter. I belong to no one.”
A tiny frown creases his face. “You belong to vampires who would use you and spit you out.”
“Funny, they say the same thing about you. I have more reason to trust Skartovius, Vallan, and Garroway than I do you, Lukain. You are my enemy. Why have you come here? You must’ve known how I would react.”
His eyes rove over my body, catching every pale inch of flesh from the waist up above the water. An expression of longing chases across his features. “I needed to see you again. I can’t stop, Sephania. I’m still addicted.”
“Then you’d better break your addiction, Lukain. I’ve already got three fiendish mates trying to conquer their demons. There’s no room for another.”
He opens his mouth to say something—thinks better of it. If I had to guess, he wants to ask how he can create room for another.
“I could scream and they’d come,” I say, hoping he doesn’t know I’m alone in this brothel with Garroway.
I have no idea if Garro is strong enough alone to defeat Lukain Mortis—Overseer Verant—in his new station.
They’re both dhampir, and Lukain has trained for battle his entire life.
Skar defeated him though. I don’t suspect Garro is Skar’s equal, but maybe he’s strong enough for Lukain . . . because Truehearts know I’m not.
There’s a nagging at the back of my mind which angers me more than anything, even more than Lukain showing up unannounced after watching me escape Sutlis Spire mere days ago.
Even now, still, after everything, I’m hopelessly drawn to this diabolical man.
The demon on my shoulder tells me to give him another chance, for the thousandth time.
I simply don’t have the heart to allow myself such naivety or luxury. “My place is no longer beside you, the Grimsons, or any others in Nuhav,” I say. “It’s beside my vampires, and you are my enemy. You must understand that, Lukain.”
He nods glumly. “Then I will endeavor to do whatever I must to change your mind.”
“It won’t happen.”
His nostrils flare. “I’ve hated vampires my entire life, little grimmer.
Just like you, deep inside, even if you don’t want to admit it because you’ve become corrupted by them.
You have allied with a man who will ingratiate himself to the vampire overlords, inviting them to dictate our lives even more than they already do. ”
“Skar won’t do that.”
“I’m offering you a way out, stubborn girl!” His outburst reverberates off the walls, and I recoil. “Apologies,” he mutters, shaking his head at seeing me jolt. “Come with me. Please. It’s not too late to start anew for us and build something mighty.”
“It is too late. We have never been what you think we are.” My voice shames me with its longing—its wish to be who he thinks we are. Even now, after everything.
His eyes lock with mine, the pleading so evident in his gaze it hurts my heart. Finally, he gives me a small nod, looking away. “I won’t stop trying. You’re following the wrong men, Sephania. These are not the allies you think they are. Skartovius least of all.”
“You must stop. Because next time, my mates will be here to fight you.”
Lukain stares at me a moment longer. Once he moves for the door, he glances over his shoulder. “You haven’t asked Skar where he obtained his silver sword, have you?”
“If it’s really so important,” I growl, “then why don’t you just fucking tell me yourself?”
“Because I want you to hear the truth from him, little grimmer. If he’s capable of the truth. Then you can truly understand the kind of man you’ve allied yourself with.”
He exits the room and vanishes like a wraith before I can reply, leaving me to wonder why he’s going to such great lengths to resolve our conflict . . . and if there isn’t some kernel of truth to his words warning me about my vampiric lovers.