My mind clung to the wordperson.
Then Rhazien confirmed my suspicion. “A human woman. A slave.”
“Oh.” Was all I could muster. As I thought about what Dommik Thorne might be like as a vampire in love, Rhazien’s blood swirled around the musing and snatched it away.
“There’s a stark difference in beliefs between our two communities. We believe in progress and growth, which means forging collaborative relationships with the human realms.”
If that were true, I hadn’t seen the evidence of it. The Illica Crown did everything possible to keep us afraid of vampires. At all of the balls, private dinners, and business trips I’d been on with my late husband, there had never been talk of partnership or alliances with vampires. If anything, it was the exact, ferocious opposite.
Confusion lined my brow as Rhazien continued.
“The Northern Hive believes humans are meant for positions of service. Sustenance or slavery.”
“That’s awful,” I breathed, thankful I’d been brought into his care, and not Eryx’s.
“It is.” Rhazien nodded. “But I saw good in Dommik. Not everyone who resides in the Northern Hive is so lucky. It takes an immense amount of mental grit not to submit to the darkest parts of our nature.”
Pieces of a puzzle were beginning to fall into place. Dommik had said he was referred to as a monster. Comments from Gorvin and Valta that, at the time, were out of context now made sense.
Dommik was different. Living here and serving Rhazien as a transplant from the Northern Hive must have been a shock. Too kind for the Northern Hive. Too cruel for the Southern. An ‘other’ anywhere he went.
“Like Vaspar,” I mused in a hushed whisper.
“Like Vaspar,” Rhazien breathed, irritation strangling his tone. I tensed in his arms. “You won’t have to worry about him. He’ll see out his sentence under lock and key. And will repeat his sentence until he repents for his actions.”
“Repeatedly?” I stammered.
“Mhmm.”
My stomach dropped.
“Because it heals…” I was putting the pieces together out loud.
“Correct.”
I picked at my nails as the scene echoed through my memory. “I won’t have to watch every time, will I?”
My arm was beginning to tickle from Rhazien’s slow, repetitive strokes. “Oh no. That first time was for show. To make a point.”
“And when he repents?”
“Ifhe repents,” he corrected, eyes filled with a sense of knowing I hoped I could trust.
“Ifhe repents? Then what?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when it comes.” Rhazien moved to sit and pulled me up with him. He reached for a basket, its contents clinking as they shuffled inside.
A cork popped and Rhazien filled a glass with an amber liquid.
“Cider, my lady.”
Its crisp contents were sweet, bubbly, more refreshing than the thick, heavy wine I’d been over served since arriving.
I waved away the grapes Rhazien offered and pulled my knees into my chest as I thought about Vaspar in the dungeon. His final declaration wasn’t just a threat, it felt like a promise. He’d regretted not draining me, and I believed, if given the chance, he would finish the job.
Rhazien’s blood cradled my fears, giving me a sense of safety I hoped wouldn’t fade as it left my system.
I pursed my lips and asked, “Couldn’t you kill him? For what he did?”
