I swallowed thickly and gave him a soft nod.
“See,” he said as he wrapped gauze around my thigh. The wound developed its own heartbeat from the pressure. “Explicit permission.”
“No taste test this time?” I mentioned, remembering how he’d gathered up the bead of blood from my wound and tasted me during the Veilbreakers ambush.
He paused, intensity filling his glare, as he tied off the bandage and inspected his work. Through a tense breath, he whispered, “I shouldn’t have done that.”
He’d scolded Vaspar for defying strict orders, ones he also hadn’t followed.
“There.” He looked up at me with a remorseful gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t intervene sooner.”
Remorseandsympathy? A primal, maternal instinct nudged me to comfort him. To tell him it wasn’t his fault, and remove the guilt he harbored in his pinched expression. But I ignored the long-standing, deep-rooted training in how to be a ‘good woman’ for men. No. His feelings were his own to manage.
Instead of coddling him, I sighed. “Who says you wouldn’t have done the same thing?”
Color rose to his cheeks but quickly subsided. “You’re right.”
I jerked my head back with his admission.
“And wrong.” He exhaled as he stood to stretch.
“Explain.” I eyed him while he set to cleaning Rolf’s blood from his blade.
“Some vampires have a preference to feed on the unwilling. I do not share that preference.” His eyes fell to my collarbone.
In a voice that didn’t sound like my own, I croaked, “What is your preference?”
His stormy gaze traced my neckline. “Permission.”
“Permission or submission?” I quipped, adjusting in the chair.
“Permission,” he insisted, meeting my eyes, hard and serious. Had I been standing, my knees may have buckled. He was saying all the right things. But to what end? Why flatter me? Why butter me up only to insist that I’m not to be touched or tasted?
The storm crackled, like the lightning strikes were drawn to the charged moment between us.
I blinked first.
“We’re going to be down here a while,” Dommik noted, sheathing his sword. “Best to keep busy to pass the time.”
He stood, wincing slightly as he reached his full height. Still healing, he’d said. Dommik’s long gait spanned the small basement in three easy strides. I tensed as he bent down next to me and collectedThe Forest and The Flamefrom beneath the bed.
He knelt there and slowly handed me the text. “I’m going to tend to Asher, feed myself, and bring you something to eat. I’ll be back shortly. Please stay here. Stay hidden.”
Two things worried me at that moment.
“What if you get hurt and need my help again?” I addressed my first concern, gripping the fragile book.
Dommik’s eyes flicked to my fidgeting fingers, then back to me. “I’ll be fine, lovely.”
He’d fought off a dozen raiders when he was well. Vaspar cowered in his presence when he was injured. Of course going out into the woods to find a rabbit or squirrel or whatever would satiate his thirst wouldn’t be a problem.
I looked down at the book, tracing the tree on the red cover, and admitted my second fear through a shaky breath, “What ifhecomes back?”
Dommik placed a curled finger under my chin, his knuckle encouraging my gaze to his. Kneeling in front of me, he looked like a knight on the brink of swearing his undying fealty.
“He won’t,” Dommik declared. His eyes burned with promise beneath his furrowed brow.
“He won’t?” I asked, reveling in the heat beneath the blanket of his weighty stare.
