A Dozen Things
It was a clumsy game of follow the leader, dancing around patrons, spinning further away from sight into the mess of bodies dancing to the lively fiddle and drums.
“Is something the matter?” Alba asked as I reached her.
I pulled her close and whispered into her golden hair, “Dommik is here.”
Her eyes were wide when we parted. “We should go.”
“Go?” Shaw yelled over the drums. “No, no, no. Not yet, my sweet.”
Alba’s suitor placed a hard, claiming kiss on her rosy cheeks. She was flushed from ale and dancing and I was still in awe of her natural beauty.
Shaw continued boasting, “And look! What a rare sighting. The moon is here too! We are witnessing an eclipse this evening!”
He was clever. Annoying and likely on the edge of being over served, but clever.
“Brother! Dance with the moon!” Shaw roared to my escort as he swept Alba up into an athletic jig. Spinning dancers converged on the floor.
“Would—would you—?” Colt was the perfect name for the young man and I looked at him with fresh eyes. While he shared the same almond-shaped eyes and disarming smile as his older brother, he didn’t carry the same confidence. Nervous and inexperienced as he seemed, he wasn’t a threat. So I agreed.
“Yes!” I took his hands in mine and we joined the frenzy of dancers.
That last ale was a mistake. Even though I’d stopped spinning, the room hadn’t. I’d lost track of Alba in the mixture of movement and needed to steady myself on a nearby beam. Colt panted next to me through shared laughter at our failure from the most recent dance.
I was on the brink of feeling sick but this was everything Alba promised it would be. This was fun.
My eyes tried to focus but kept shifting like one of my visions stuck in a loop. I stood, pushing my sweaty hair and sighing to the ceiling.
“Wow,” I said as the rush of excitement intertwined with the ale.
“Wow is right.” My eyes found Colt’s as he spoke. His expression was one of awe and hope. “I think…I might love you.”
I didn’t mean to laugh. He was sweet, but he was young. Too young. And na?ve.
The next song began and the dancers answered the musical call, forming lines that wove together in hypnotic choreography.
“You don’t love me, Colt. You don’t know me.” Alba and Shaw passed by. If all the lanterns went out in the tavern, their smiles would serve as enough light for the room. I pointed at the two as they danced away. “That’s love.”
“What if I want to know you?” He took a step closer.
I lifted a hand, pausing his pursuit. “I’m spoken for.”
Colt’s devastation hung in his sunken expression. “By whom?”
I looked over my shoulder, toward the man underneath the black cloak doing his best to stay inconspicuous so I could enjoy myself. But it wasn’t Dommik I belonged to…
I scanned the room, noted a small circle of women and gestured. “There. A table of fillies. Just waiting for a Colt.”
A mousey brunette smiled and waved at him. He looked at me as if asking for silent permission.
“That’s as good as an invitation. Go!” I shooed Colt away and leaned on a wooden beam.
Last Light had taken a turn. Jolly conversations had become shouting matches. An unconscious man was being dragged from the tavern.
It’s time to go…I thought to myself.
I searched for Dommik to signal him but the frame of a mountainous man swallowed my view.
“Miss, you looked parched.” The stranger’s gravelly voice lifted a mug of ale to my lips, the ale spilling over the sides when I didn’t open my mouth to drink. I shook my head and pushed the mug away, sending the liquid down my neck and corset.
“She’s not thirsty. She’s tired! Here, my lady, I have a place you can rest.” A set of rough hands gripped my hips and pulled me down into their lap. Those hands found their way around my waist and held me there despite my effort to stand up again.
“Hows about yous and I get ourselves a cozy little room, beauty?” The man's weathered skin was host to a layer of dirt and scars marring his brow and lips.
Bottomless brown pits of hunger feasted on my exposed skin.
His ale-stained breath was hot against my cheek and I pushed again and again, trying to release myself from his muscled arms.
Even the vampires of the Northern Hive knew better than to touch or handle me. But these men didn’t know who I was. Who I belonged to. Who was waiting to escort me home.
A rough voice said the words I couldn’t, “Get your disgusting hands off of her.”
Dommik?
A dagger, suddenly at my captor’s throat, reflected the yellow hue of the tavern lanterns and ale-breath loosened his grip.
Not Dommik. My savior was another stranger in Day Guard regalia. Pale and lean, his short, neatly trimmed hair complemented his caramel eyes. The sharp, deadly glare aimed at the handsy stranger matched the point of his dagger.
“Release her,” he repeated, my eyes never leaving the dagger. “Before I bring the commander into this.”
At the threat of making Dommik aware of this little scene, the unwelcome, wide-set hands released me. Without another word, the stranger ushered me away from the circling crowd of ill-intentioned men.
“Thank you.” I exhaled as we exited the tavern.
“Hurry, the commander is waiting.” His boney fingers pressed into my back, encouraging me through the crowd.
I stumbled from the bustle of Last Light into the evening beyond. The cool night air licked at my exposed, ale-soaked skin and sent goosebumps across my arms. A shiver of relief sailed through me as the door to the tavern closed, turning the conversations and music within from a roar to a murmur.
A woman was having her way with a man against the building, horses, and torches. But no Dommik. Maybe he was still inside. Maybe he was just behind us.
“This way,” the stranger cooed. His mouth stretched into a crooked-toothed smile.
“Where is Commander Thorne?” I asked as a leathered arm wrapped around me, leading me away from the tavern and toward the treeline.
He was silent but I felt his grip tighten slightly at my waist.
“Where is Commander Thorne?” I asked again, the back of my neck prickling as we were nearly out of sight from the tavern doors.
More silence.
“Who are you?” I asked, taking an unbalanced step back away from his grasp.
Rope emerged from the rucksack slung over the stranger’s shoulder.
“Come quietly and you won’t be harmed,” he said softly as he approached, rope in one hand, dagger in the other.
A sobering bolt of fear ripped through me and I turned to run. My limbs might be heavy with ale and my vision might be skewed, but I had to try.
My clumsy effort was short-lived. Urging my feet forward was like pulling a reluctant mule and I might as well have had cinderblocks for shoes. Breath left my body as my chest hit the dirt and my assailant laughed as he closed in on me.
Crawl. I would crawl if I had to. Small stones pressed through the thin fabric of my skirt, scraping my knees.
His hand wrapped itself around my ankle. “Let’s get away from the front door, shall we?”
Pebbles and sticks scraped at my skin. I yelled out, hoping someone, anyone, would hear.
Surely, Alba would realize I’m nowhere in sight.
And where the fuck is Dommik!?
“Quiet,” he snapped.
I let out another scream, louder this time. If my body couldn’t do anything else at my command, it could at least do this.
“QUIET!” He straddled me and the cold tip of the dagger traced my throat.
A sinister smile spread across his narrow, angular jaw.
“That’s better.” He praised my compliance in a way that made my gut swirl.
Pure, unfiltered hate radiated from me. This man had no idea what I’d been through. How close I’d come to leaving the world. If anyone was going to take me out of it, I was damn sure it wouldn’t be him.
I lifted my knee as hard as I was able. Wide eyes glared down at me before slamming shut and the man rolled off of my body, groaning in pain.
Balance was impossible as I scrambled to stand. If I could get back into the tavern, I could find help, but the assailant’s body slammed into mine, tackling me back to the ground.
“I thought this had been too easy,” he growled into my hair as I inhaled the earthy scent of the dewy forest floor. “Distracting the commander and luring you away.”
I writhed beneath him, telling myself I would at least put up a fight. But he overpowered me easily. Each arm was pulled one by one behind my back and secured within the rough confines of the man’s rope.
“There,” he said in admiration of his restraints.
“You’ll. Regret. This,” I bit out as he hoisted me to stand.
He pulled me in close, his front molding itself to my back in a way that made me want to retch. “No one. Hear me? No one is coming for you, Lady Reyva.”
This was no accident. This was no opportunistic abduction attempt. He knew who I was and a sinking dread buried itself in my gut as my name left his lips.
“Walk.” Without warning, his blade nicked my skin and a warm trickle of freshly drawn blood dripped down my neck.
“Believe me when I say I don’t mind carrying you,” he warned as the hand not wielding a blade traced the curve of my hip.
There was no way I would let him move me to a second location. There was no way I would simply agree to be a pawn in another man’s scheme for power.
No. I would not budge.
“Fine,” the man hissed before striking the side of my head.
Pieces of scenes bled together.
I bobbed on horseback in the dark. Blurred hues of a small campfire were marred and mixed into their own watercolor painting. I coughed. I heaved. Two rough male voices exchanged murmured conversations.
Who were these people? What did they want? And where had they taken me?
It was dark and quiet.
No rousing fiddle or thunderous conversations from the tavern. We were somewhere in the Eckwood. But the forest was vast. We could be anywhere.
“You’re absolutely sure this is her?” my captor whispered.
“Of course it's her. Raven hair. Olive skin. Light freckles,” the other voice answered, describing me.
I groaned as I pushed my wrists against the rope restraints. My shoulders protested as I tried to lift them and roll. My hope of even an attempted escape dwindled as I realized how limited my movement was.
“She’s awake,” the first voice said and gravel crunched underneath their boots as they approached.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. These weren’t supposed to be my last memories.
The newest stranger pulled my hair, bringing my chest off the ground. “Hello, gorgeous. Have a nice nap?”
I eyed him, noticing at least three missing teeth beneath his crooked nose. My vision was still reeling from the leftover alcohol and a possible head injury.
“I think you hit her too hard,” he said, releasing me from his grip and letting my chest and face meet the earth with a force that made me grunt.
“She earned it,” the other said. He must’ve been the one who lured me from the tavern. “We shouldn’t rest too long. Best to keep moving until the sun rises.”
“Bastards.” Dirt flew as I spit out the word and I struggled against the biting restraints. My head throbbed and my neck itched from the healing cut the assailant inflicted before stealing me away.
One of the men chuckled. “Someone is feeling brave.”
I tried to pull my knees beneath me but found them bound as well.
Fire crackled and liquid sloshed as the same voice asked, “Morvain needs her in one piece?”
“Alive,” the companion assured me. “Or else we don’t get the reward.”
Fear skated across the ice in my veins.
No, I thought. They can’t send me back there.
I’d rather have an ugly death than be sent back to Eryx Morvain and his court of horrors.
More liquid, more crackling embers, and another comment from the new voice, “What do you suppose he wants with her?”
“Vampire business is vampire business,” my assailant responded. “I might not know what he wants with her, but with a body like that, I can think of at least a dozen things he might want to do to her.”
The men chuckled together.
“Shame to put it to waste…” Gravel crunched and my labored efforts turned into a frantic frenzy of movement. No hope. No hope of putting up a fight. No hope of escape. No hope of stopping what he was insinuating if the other man didn’t intervene.
My corset had fallen, exposing my chest against the unforgiving earth. My skirt was above my scraped, bleeding knees. The work was half done for this ill-intentioned attacker.
A whoosh of wind and the ring of a weapon set free cut through the silence. Crackling embers and liquid. But not sloshing liquid from a shared bottle. No, gushing liquid. Blood spilling from an open wound.
I strained to look around but found nothing except the ember-lit bushes and trees.
The iron-tainted air wafted to me as boots scraped for purchase against small stones and dirt. Gasping breaths cut through the struggle and finally, a rattling exhale. The last breath of a life exiting its mortal constraints.
“By the fucking Four,” the voice murmured to themselves. My eyes popped open at the sound. The scent of pine and freshly spilled blood claimed my senses and I looked up to meet Dommik’s stormy gaze.
Relief flooded through me. Its waters gathered everything in its path as it rushed out of me in appreciative tears. I stared up at him in complete disbelief. That I—yet again—had escaped a horrific fate because of him.
“How did you find me?” I rasped.
The bindings around my wrists were cut loose and fell free to my sides. My feet followed. His gloved hands cupped my cheeks. “No man, no realm, no obstacle could stop me from finding you. Ever. You hear me?”
He ran a thumb over my bottom lip, holding my gaze, until it was pulled to my neck. Blood trickled from the small slice the attacker had given me.
“I’m just sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
Pure darkness peered down at the cut, the torn garment, the scrapes on my legs, the tears staining my cheeks.
“Did they—”
“No,” I breathed without hesitation, thankful he’d shown up before they could go further with their demented fantasy. His fury doubled as he discovered new details across my body.
“I’ve got you, Reyva,” he assured me. Streams of blood coated his chin and neck. Monstrous and murderous, his gaze was pure fire as he searched me for signs of injury. His broad arms squeezed me tighter as if to say, ‘Rest. You’re safe now.’