Nothing More
Coffee at sunset. An unnatural combination.
But dusk was becoming my new dawn in this alternate life amongst the vampires.
The warm brew settled in my belly as the last rays of daylight stretched, gasping its final breath before the sun dipped behind the dark expanse of Atoris.
Golden hues of day gave way to the indigo and obsidian palette of evening.
With all that had occurred, and all I had learned, it was hard to believe it was only my third day at the Hive. Was this what time felt like for vampires? Years of lived experience shrinking into the span of days.
Better than a sty.
I sipped the coffee again, chuckling into the mug. While the brew chased away last night’s wine headache, it was waking me to all I’d learned.
That I was more than a guest. Rhazien had intentions for a higher purpose. Something sour churned in my gut thinking about how the foundations of those intentions still relied on me being a tool to his ambitions. Men were apparently the same everywhere, even when they were immortal.
“I hope you’re not thinking of jumping.” Dommik’s low voice felt like it had hands. Hands that wrapped me into a lover’s embrace. Hands that had become completely and entirely off-limits within the last day.
He brought the night with him. Stars slowly blinked into existence against the dark veil as dusk winked below the horizon.
“Hello, Dommik.” I remained where the onyx-haired vampire warrior found me, leaning on the rounded stone railing of my terrace. My silk nightgown and dark, untamable tendrils billowed in the evening breeze.
“Commander Thorne.” Dommik approached slowly.
His correction stung, but I held out my cup to him in offering. He declined with a simple wave and joined me at the railing.
“So formal.” I sipped the last of the coffee, returning my gaze to the horizon and acknowledging his newly formed formality.
“I am nothing if not a shining example of decorum.” Dommik sighed and a short-lived hum vibrated in my mug.
I stole a glance just in time to see the threat of a smile lift the corner of his mouth. I adjusted my stance, resting my hip on the railing and facing him fully. “We don’t have to be.”
“Hm?” He rested his chin on his shoulder and looked down at me.
“So formal.” The words were so soft, they were nearly suffocated by the breeze. Despite their meek delivery, I meant it.
Titles always made me uncomfortable. Claustrophobic. They were a constant reminder of the invisible systems at work, ones I more often than not disagreed with. Systems that kept the poor people struggling and allowed elites to continue to profit from their misfortunes.
I thought of Alba. Of how she preferred the Hive to living with her own family in Bromport.
Of how I’d seen the excessive wealth within the Illica castle walls to know there was always enough food to go around.
No one in Atoris had to be hungry, but they were kept that way on purpose.
People were hungry, tired, overworked, and afraid of stepping out of line, lest they be sentenced to a life of servitude at the Hive.
Dommik’s throat bobbed before he let out a measured breath. “Yes. We do.”
“Dommik.” I absently placed a hand on his forearm but quickly retracted it when his jaw tightened at the contact.
Right. No touching allowed.
I didn’t like it, but I understood it—the circumstances of our stations. His role and mine. We all had our parts to play in these damn systems.
“Thank you,” I said softly. My cheeks went hot with embarrassment that I’d overstepped. “For the book.”
His wild gaze shifted from my hand to my chamber doorway, Alba’s gray robes blending with the curtains of the terrace.
Fuck. What had that moment looked like to her? Worry took root as I pondered the rumors she could spread.
“Commander Thorne. Lady Reyva. Apologies.” She dropped into an exaggerated curtsey. “Your breakfast has arrived.”
I straightened my posture and pulled my robe tight around my nightgown. “Thank you, Alba, I’ll be right in.”
Dommik’s leathers groaned as he stood to his full height. Broad, thick layers of muscle wrapped up beneath fitted leathers beckoned me to reach out and touch him again.
My eyes traveled lower to movement at his center. It was then I noticed a small black box in Dommik’s hands.
I nodded to the package. “What’s that?”
“This is for you.” The box passed between our hands and Dommik was most careful to ensure our skin didn’t touch again.
“Another gift?” I asked, opening the box to a round, obsidian jar.
“Not exactly,” he said as I lifted the fragile item, curious what it held inside.
He gently tapped the glass. “This will remove any trace from any vampire that’s touched you.
You’re going to be presented to some of the highest placed and oldest vampires in the coming weeks and it needs to appear that you belong completely to Rhazien. ”
Belong. A piece of me skittered into hiding at the word. But then again, belonging meant protection. Or at least, that’s what systems built by and for powerful men taught us it meant.
“Appear? Don’t I belong completely to Rhazien?” I challenged with an arched brow.
Emotions flashed across his piercing stare so erratically, I couldn’t place them, like he was shuffling through which mask to don.
“You do,” he paused, looking down to his feet then back to me, “belong to him. Although, from the traces on your skin, you don’t look it.”
Vaspar was among those traces as well as his companion, Rolf. The promise of erasing the evidence of their attack, of my failure to avoid them or fight them off, was promising. But Dommik was also among those traces, and the thought of erasing him made something shrink inside of me.
I removed the cap and sniffed the odorless contents. It must be a rare element to not maintain a residual smell. Low potency, yes. But none? I wasn’t aware of a herb, flower, or toxin without an accompanying aroma.
I gave Dommik a perplexed look and he answered with a single word, “Bloodbane.”
Poisonous to vampires, but not for humans.
“Bloodbane,” I repeated, swirling the tonic. “Interesting.”
I poured the clear oil into my cupped palm and rubbed the liquid across my cheek. A place Dommik and Rhazien had both touched.
“Erased,” Dommik confirmed in an almost sad whisper. His blue eyes fell flat like a windless sea. “It takes months to grow, gather, and distill this tonic. Handle it with care but apply generously. I’ll leave you to enjoy your coffee.”
“You can stay,” I said, reaching for him but pausing this time before my hand met his arm. I have got to stop doing that. “I’d like you to stay.”
A strained smile lifted his cheeks but the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes.
He was ordered to retrieve me and now ordered to guard me, but I didn’t want him to keep me company because it was his duty.
I wanted him to choose it on his own. And with his expression bordering on anguish, I was tempted to dismiss him.
But I had a bone to pick with the commander.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked, capping the bloodbane oil.
He folded his hands at his waist and nodded. This demeanor was so clearly a performance. He wasn’t just wearing a mask, it was an entire suit of armor. What was he so scared of?
“When you were sent to retrieve me from Illica, had you always known Rhazien wanted me to become his prospective queen?”
Like a seasoned hunter, I was setting a trap. And like a centuries old vampire, he expertly avoided it.
He shrugged. “I’m just a soldier. I do what I’m told and I don’t ask why.”
Liar, I thought. Rhazien was surprised in the carriage when I told him Dommik didn’t inform me of his intentions.
“I’m asking because I felt like, while we were on the road, there was something between us.” I would have been nervous to ask if I hadn’t been so sure. I spent years at court watching, and oftentimes evading, the practiced tradition of wooing and swooning. “A connection.”
An evening wind wrapped around us, sending his dark locks dancing and my nightgown flush with my pebbled skin.
Dommik clenched his jaw. There was something there, unsaid. Tucked just behind his teeth.
“Am I making that up?” I prodded, my confidence waning in his silence.
He blinked once, slowly, then said, “Yes.”
Liar.
“You belong to my regent.” A slight quiver shook his statement. “It’s best this way. Best for you. Best for him. Best for Atoris.”
That just couldn’t be true, not with the way he’d talked to me. Looked at me. Touched me.
“What about you?” I asked. “What’s best for you?”
Without hesitation, he said, “I owe Rhazien everything. What’s best for him is best for me.”
Dommik was within arms reach but suddenly felt so far away.
“I was mistaken, then.” The small vial fell heavily into the pocket of my robe.
“You were mistaken,” he agreed.
But I hadn’t been. The signs were there, and more than his behavior, there had been a feeling there…
a melding. Like two components working together to make a salve or tonic.
And that, cannot be faked. Whatever the reason, he was lying, and that bothered me.
The familiar steel of my own emotional armor slid over my skin.
“Friends then.” I exhaled, pushing my unruly waves away from my face before crossing my arms over my middle.
“No.” His dark hair swayed as he shook his head. “Not friends. You are my assignment. Nothing more.”
My armor cracked.
Nothing more.
I would have preferred to take another arrow to the arm.
An assignment to him. A prospect to Rhazien. A tool. A pawn. A thing to be traded.
Nothing more.
Life at the Hive might be comfortable. It might not be as horrific as I’d imagined. But it would be a familiar cage, and that fact ignited an ember of rage deep in my soul.
Nothing more.
I set my jaw in a hard line before I turned away. “You’re excused, Commander Thorne.”
Paying attention to my lesson with Oddo was damn near impossible. My wounded ego was front and center, claiming my focus.