I didn’t mean to laugh. He was sweet, but he was young. Too young. And naïve.
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 thetavern 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.
