Chapter 7
Onyx’s POV
Something had changed drastically in the past three weeks or so.
Dreya was no longer making an effort to meet me in the living room after work, making small talk during dinner, or asking me what I wanted for my meals on the weekends.
In fact, my blood wife had been doing the exact opposite.
She was no longer seeking me out, no longer making any kind of initiation in conversations, only engaged when I initiated about her day, and spending an awful lot of time in her “sanctuary,” with the door closed and locked.
The changes had put me on edge. Maybe this was the real Dreya.
I felt an immense amount of dread, and discomfort.
I realized once the changes began to happen, that I missed the things she had been doing, even if I had not shown any outward appreciation to her efforts.
The only time Dreya made any effort at contact with me was during the taking.
However, there had been a change with that as well.
In the beginning, she would come to bed naked, or in a silky nightgown.
Truth be told, both options had tempted me to no end, but I held my restraint until the next morning at which time I would initiate sex with my wife.
She did not discourage the intimacy, but I could feel a change there as well.
Once it was done and over, she turned away from me.
The first night after the taking in which she turned, I had been shocked at her ability to grab the sheet on the bed and pull herself away. That had to have taken quite the effort to do. It would, however, become the new way she would respond to me after the taking.
I dreaded what answer she would give me, but I felt the need to address this change. Possibly, there was something I could do to have things go back to the way they had been.
One Saturday afternoon, I went to her sanctuary and knocked. I waited for what felt like an hour, until I heard her unlock the door, making me flinch, then opened it. There stood Dreya, cool and detached in a way that had become the new norm. I did not like it one bit.
“May I come in?” She had once said I could come in anytime to work while she read, and I hoped that general invitation was still on the table.
She stepped back allowing me in. I took that as a good sign.
She stood in the middle of the room, her arms crossed. I closed the door to ensure privacy for this conversation.
Her tone came out calm and detached. “Yes?”
That was all she said.
I looked at my blood wife, the change in he posture, her tone, her expressions.
I wasn’t sure how to approach this topic with her.
I rubbed the back of my neck, hoping to relieve some of the tension there, but it wasn’t working one bit.
I looked back up at Dreya, who was simply standing there, waiting.
“You seem different somehow.”
“Oh? Do I?”
“You have not been acting like you did when you first came here. Why is that?” I tried to sound concerned, not anxious.
She replied in a flat tone, “I am simply doing what a blood match does.”
“What does that mean, Dreya?” I felt frustrated.
“Well, about a month ago, I overheard you talking to someone and explaining what this,” she pointed back and forth between us, “really was to you. That I am merely here for my blood match.”
I flinched. “You weren’t meant to hear that.”
She shrugged. “I’m glad I did. Made me realize I had been wasting my time hoping for a true husband, and not just someone who needed me for my blood.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry about what you heard….”
She cut me off. “I’m not. I will be here for the blood, and nothing more. Just as you wanted it.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No, no that’s not what I want. I want us to go back to how we were.”
“Oh. You mean how you practically ignored me, shut me down whenever I would ask you about your day, try to spend time with you?” I felt like she had knocked the wind out of me. “Or how the only time you seem to want anything to do with me is in bed?”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, but she continued talking.
“Since we are discussing this topic now,” she spoke with such a formal tone. “I think it would be good for us to discuss a mistress.”
I felt like she had slapped me. “A what?”
She shrugged. “A mistress. When you want a mistress, do let me know. But once that occurs, I will no longer have sex with you.”
Again I felt like I had been slapped hard.
I heaved out a loud breath. “I do not plan on ever having a mistress.”
“Hmmmm. Well, that is your prerogative. But at some point you may get bored with this,” she waved her hand between us.
She was being very matter-of-fact about this topic, making me uneasy.
“My family values loyalty.” That made me pause. “Doesn’t yours?”
Dreya shrugged, looking bored. “I do not know what goes on between my parents. I have suspected my father of having a mistress as he is often gone from the home, but that is business I’d rather not know of.
Besides, I assumed it was normal for all men to have mistresses, based on what I had heard among the house staff. ”
I looked at her shocked.
“I’ve heard of some high bloods and even a handful of mid blood borns having mistresses, but you make it seems as if that is the norm.”
Dreya shrugged again. I was really beginning to hate that movement.
I gestured into the room. “May I sit with you for a moment?”
She rolled her eyes at me, making me frustrated, but she nodded as she also sat down. She sat at the end of the couch cushion, knees locked together, hands crossed on her lap, looking at me blankly.
I sat across from her on a chair. I continued to stare at her. She really was a beautiful woman. Very unique, even as she sat there in a casual floral dress.
“I made assumptions about you since the beginning.”
“You mean like I’m ‘that scoundrel’s daughter’?” She grinned widely at me.
I grimaced, as I looked away. I ran a hand down my face. “Yes. I judged you as soon as I saw your name on the documents at the Facility.”
“Hmmmm. Because of course I gave you every impression that I was like Mr. D’Avare.”
My gaze snapped back up to hers. “Why do you call him that?” It came out harder than I intended, but there was no taking it back.
“What?”
“Mr. D’Avare. Why do you call him that?”
“Because that was how I was instructed to address him.”
“By whom?”
“Mr. D’Avare.”
“Your father, told you, to call him, Mr. D’Avare?”
“Yes. That is what I just said.” She spoke to me like I was hard of hearing, which I guess it would appear that way since I literally asked her to repeat herself.
I frowned at her. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he didn’t want a daughter. He didn’t want a daughter with red hair. And he very obviously didn’t want me.”
I stared at her stunned. That would make sense.
Her father rarely had her come out in public, like she was a big secret.
I guess she really was, since not many people spoke on he having red hair.
That would have been a hot topic among the vampyrs, even if not for the best reason.
I was staring to realize I had entirely misjudged my blood wife.
I shifted uneasily. “You said he wanted you ‘clean and pure.’ Did he ever say why?”
She shrugged. “No.”
I was starting to suspect Mr. D’Avare simply didn’t want his heir out in public to be a scandal for his very precious name.
I had made a huge mistake, assuming my blood wife was like her father, and treating her like a pariah.
She had appeared eager, maybe too eager, in becoming my blood wife, which I had assumed was for some nefarious reason, when maybe she just wanted to have someone who cared.
I looked over her closely. “What about your mother?”
She shrugged.
“Please stop that!”
“Stop what?”
“That, that gesture with your shoulders.”
“Hmmmm.”
She paused looking at me like I had a second head. Hell, at this rate, maybe I did.
“My mother is an anxious sort. Mr. D’Avare ensured my mother and I stayed home away from the spotlight as much as possible. Mother was always eager to do as he asked of her.”
So, her mother was an anxious doormat. Good grief!
In a soft tone, I said, “I am sorry for making assumptions.”
She smiled. I think she was about to shrug again, but she paused, looked away and smiled again. She turned her gaze back to me.
“No worries. I am merely a blood match. Now I know and we can carry on as we are.”
I leaned in, getting agitated. “But I don’t want to carry on as we are. I want us, well you, to go back to how you were. I will change. I promise. I will give us a chance.”
“Not necessary. You have made it clear where I stand in this situation, and I am perfectly fine with it, now that I know my position.”
I stood abruptly. “No! That is not where you stand. You are my blood wife.”
“Blood match.”
“Blood. Wife! I messed up. I didn’t give you the right chance. I wish to give us a chance now.”
Her forced smile dropped into a sad expression. “But I no longer wish to give it a chance.”
I felt a stab in my heart. “Please Dreya. Please. Give me a chance to make it right.”
She continued to look at me sadly. “This is how it will be.” She sounded resigned.
I realized I lost my chance to have had a special relationship with my blood wife all because my arrogance blinded me to her. The real her. The one I would have embraced wholeheartedly if her last name had not been D’Avare.