“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 Atorishadto 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 belongcompletelyto 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’tI 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.
