The Hive #2
The fear, the pain, the loss, the exhaustion. It all pressed into me and I fell to my knees on the lavish rug. Rhazien’s blood intensified my feelings and the room, already glimmering and golden, began to blur beyond welling tears.
A gentle knock rapped at the door and with it, my hope for privacy vanished. The much needed cry would have to wait.
“Just a moment, please,” I called from the floor, wiping the moisture from the corners of my eyes. The art of suppressing feelings was one I had mastered in my time at Illica court. A voice belonging to a stronger version of myself came through, “Thank you, enter.”
Five maids dressed in simple, flowing gray garbs entered. The first carried a tray of oils, the others shared the load of large water barrels. Their faces were covered by a lengthy piece of fabric, making only their eyes visible.
The first maid placed the tray on the table next to the door and gestured to the decorative bottles. “Is there a scent you would prefer for your bath?”
I inspected each bottle one by one. A stout, muted green bottle offered an earthy scent, like fresh birch bark and moss.
I sampled a few others. A citrus, a chamomile, all of them pleasant.
But it was the taller, sleeker, purple tinted bottle that held the unmistakable and almost overpowering smell of lavender that I kept clutched like a precious treasure.
Known for its ability to reduce stress and induce a relaxing state, it made the most sense for what I needed in the moment. Sedation.
“Excellent.” The maid mixed my chosen scent with a grainy paste in a small dish.
“Body polish?” Dommik wasn’t kidding. The Hive did take care of their favored guests.
“Yes, m’lady. This way.” She led me to the bathing chamber. Dark stone slabs stretched themselves across the floor and walls of the generously sized space. Sloshing water drew my attention to the bronze clawfoot tub, big enough for two, beckoning from the corner of the room.
“Thank you.” I nodded to the maids exiting the chamber.
“I’m Alba, Lady Bergmont.” Flowing fabric spilled across the floor with her practiced curtsey. “I’ll be your principal chambermaid.”
“Please, call me Reyva,” I insisted, trying not to slur.
Her cheeks pushed upward under the veil, crinkling the corners of her round, caramel eyes. “With your permission, I can help you undress.”
“No,” I said quickly. The blood only wanted Rhazien to touch me. I composed myself and explained, “I’ve had quite a journey and would love nothing more than privacy as I wash.”
“I’ll take my leave and, unless there’s anything else, I will return with firewood and your meal in an hour.” Alba nodded, curtsied, and floated out of sight.
The steam rising from the brassy colored tub wafted hints of my selected lavender oil. Once the door to the main bedchamber clicked shut, I immediately undressed. I kicked the dirty gown and bloody bandages into the corner of the room.
Amongst the oils and body paste was a stable of other luxurious products. A pumice stone, nail file, and a hair wrap and brush.
As I lowered myself into the tub, a moan slipped from me—the hot pool was an unmatched ecstasy.
The liquid wrapped itself around me like a second skin and I submerged myself fully into its warmth.
I imagined the layers of dirt and grime from the keep, from the road, the blood, and any lingering residue from recent pleasures lifting off of me.
I blew out bubbles from underneath the water while I wondered, would the traces of other vampires’ touch be washed away as well? Or could Rhazien…and everyone…see where Vaspar tried to feed from me?
My fingers caressed my inner thigh, but where Vaspar sliced me open and fed was now closed and completely healed. Impossible. I looked at my arm, where the arrow struck me and found unblemished skin. Rhazien’s blood must have sped up my own healing.
Did the Crown know about vampire blood’s healing properties?
There were so many wounded and sick subjects all across Atoris that could benefit from the blood.
It might put those who dabbled in herbal healing like myself out of business and turn the continent into a constant state of feral lust, but trading their sickness or injuries for a temporary alteration in mental state just might be worth it.
For my own pleasure as well as an experiment on how vampiric senses worked, I took advantage of the body paste. The smooth cream spread across my arms, creating a temporary armor.
A gruff voice cut through my dabbling. “I see you’re settling in.”
A tall, familiar figure was perched in the bathing chamber doorway.
Dommik.
His blue-gray eyes bore into mine. How much of me could he see?
“Hello, Commander Thorne. Are you here to join me?” I teased, slurring slightly.
He knelt beside the tub. Unfazed, I continued my task and rubbed the paste across each shoulder before moving to my collarbone. The cool substance gave a delicious contrast to the heat of the bath.
“The regent isn’t keen on other vampires touching his things.” Dommik sighed and Rhazien’s blood sang in a chorus of agreement.
“So many rules.” I flicked water over the curved edge at him.
He wiped the soapy beads from his cheeks. “Enjoyed a bit of blood, have we?”
Popping the large bubbles floating across the bath surface was extra satisfying. “Against my will, but yes.”
He huffed.
“It doesn’t like you,” I said, avoiding eye contact. The blood whispered to make him leave. I fought it. Dommik had protected me from Vaspar and he’d kept his promises not to feed from me. Some part of me, however foolish, liked having him near.