Off Limits #3
“You shouldn’t judge books by their covers,” he quipped, briefly glancing from his novel. “Looks like the rabbit was to your liking.”
It was the first time I felt full in weeks.
The constant state of hunger had given me a glimpse into what it must have been like to live in poverty.
I’d always had the luxury of knowing when my next meal would be, until I’d been arrested.
The Illica Crown wasn’t keen on quality, nutritional meals for their prisoners. Even high-born ones.
“And you?” I asked. It was a polite reflex and only after the words left me did I wonder if I truly wanted to know.
He chuckled and traced his bottom lip with his thumb. “I also had rabbit.”
My stomach fell as I imagined an innocent animal struggling in his grasp as he sank his fangs into its fur and drank. I was also thankful for the creature. It satiated Dommik, which meant I was off the menu…for now anyway.
With nowhere to go and limited distractions, an impatient curiosity festered. “Who were those two men?”
Dommik looked at me, lifting his head from his book this time, rolled his shoulders and said, “Soldiers.”
“Friendly soldiers, or enemies?”
Thump. Specs of dust flew from the pages as Dommik shut it in his palm.
“Both.”
“How are they—”
“It’s complicated,” he interjected, silencing me.
It didn’t seem complicated to me. It seemed like Dommik and the vampire he’d let live, Vaspar, were having some kind of pissing match, but I dropped it.
“Are most vampires at the Hive like them? Or are they more like you?” The question earned a feline smile that made me wonder if that rabbit had helped Dommik fully heal. He appeared to be back to his usual self.
“More like me?” He stretched to the cellar ceiling and laced his fingers behind his head. His biceps framed the smugness on his face. “What do you mean by that, lovely?”
I scoffed, “I mean. You don’t seem to have forgotten your humanity like them.”
My body jumped in my chair with Dommik’s laughter. The fit either gave him a stitch or aggravated what remained of his wound because he dropped one of his hands to clutch his side.
“Thank you, Reyva,” he said between breaths. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long, long time.”
Had there been more people around, I may have been embarrassed, but instead, I was just confused. “I don’t understand what was so funny. It was supposed to be a compliment.”
A few deep breaths later, Dommik conquered the lingering laughter. “It’s hard to explain.”
I folded my arms across my chest, unsatisfied with his answer. “Try.”
As far as I was concerned, he owed me this. After lying about who he was, I deserved some information.
“There are many who would consider me to be one of the more monstrous of our kind,” he explained, his smile falling with each word like the labels applied to him were hurtful. “So if you think I’ve maintained my humanity, I think you’ll be happily surprised with the other residents of the Hive.”
“Hm.” I narrowed my gaze, reading his expression and posture. He fluctuated so frequently from open and playful to broody and sad, like he swung between identities. Who he really was and who he was told to be. I knew the feeling all too well.
“Any other questions?” he asked, leaning his elbows onto his knees.
“Many,” I admitted.
“I’ll answer three.” He wiggled the same number of fingers at me and my many questions stood at attention, hoping to be selected.
“The family portrait upstairs. The young boy looks like you. Was this your home?”
“I’d assumed you’d noticed. Yes, it was.” Dommik produced the familiar canteen and took a deep drink.
I raised my brows at the short answer.
He pushed the cork back into place and said, “Two more.”
I rolled my tongue behind my teeth. If he was only going to answer the questions exactly as they were asked without embellishment, I would need to be careful and creative in how I worded them.
“Why didn’t the Veilbreaker want me to travel with you?”
One by one, knuckles cracked beneath Dommik’s grip. “I have theories, but don’t know for sure.”
I wanted to hear them, his theories, but a different question forced its way past my lips.
“Who do I remind you of?”
Dommik went rigid. “What are you talking about?”
Something about the way he looked at me made me feel the need to conjure as much bravery as possible to forge ahead with this question. “Last night, before you fell asleep, you said I reminded you—”
“That’s off limits.” He stood, carrying his chair to the side of the bed.
I narrowed my gaze at him. I didn’t remind him of something. It was someone.
“Who is she?” I pressed.
“I’m going to sleep, Reyva,” Dommik gritted.
I was momentarily possessed by insatiable curiosity. “Why won’t you answer?”
“Who was the stable-hand standing front row at your execution?” he fired back with daring eyes. “The one tearing up and whispering to you from the crowd?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line, silenced by my shame.
“Hm?” He shrugged and tipped his head to the side. “I see. He’s off-limits then? So is she.”
We didn’t speak again that night.