Page 14 of House of Darkness (The Fallen Star #1)

ESTRELLA

The first sensation that pierced through my consciousness was an unbearable itching—a searing burn slicing across my body, especially in my palms. I tried to clench my fists to relieve the discomfort, but something blocked the movement, stubbornly refusing to allow my fingers to close.

A gentle touch curled around my hands. “Don’t do that.”

I snapped my eyes open.

I was back in my room. Everything remained as I had left it: the gray light of an overcast day streamed through the open curtains, the blanket lay folded on the floor by my favorite window, and the chamberstick rested in its usual spot on my nightstand.

The only new addition was the man sitting beside me.

Seeing Roman in daylight felt surreal. He always looked out of place, but now the light seemed to bend away from him, as if his very essence demanded the shadows.

His eyes were fixed on my hands, which he held in his.

He had just removed the bandages, revealing a patchwork of scabs, hardened and crusted.

My movements had caused some of them to crack, and trails of blood trickled through the valleys of my palms. Memories surged into my mind, stealing my breath in a ragged gasp.

I could feel the monster’s claws tearing at my flesh, the futile struggle I had made.

It had been a helpless feeling, familiar yet tinged with a new shade of despair.

The flicker of hope I had clung to had been extinguished.

I was prey in a world of predators. The only reason I was alive was because of Roman.

“You saved me,” I whispered.

He glanced at me briefly before returning his gaze to my hand. He picked up a jar of cream with a strong, earthy scent from the floor and smeared a dollop onto my cracked skin. “Of course.”

“I didn’t know vampires would attack me. I thought it was illegal to hunt humans.”

“It is,” he said, “but that town is a haven for banished vampires. There’s no system for vampires outside the Houses, so they struggle to survive.

And a starving vampire cares little for legalities.

” He began wrapping my hand with fresh gauze, the soft fabric sticking to the salve now covering my palm.

“Oh.” I winced as he unpeeled the bandage from my other hand, the fresh air stinging my raw injuries. “He said he wanted to sell me at market.”

Roman made a disgusted sound in his throat, though his tone remained cold and monotone.

“Black market acolyte sales. Many vampires can’t afford the high prices of acolyte families, so they target kidnapped girls sold at a discount.

True acolytes like you go for a premium—not what’s paid at auction, but enough for a destitute vampire to live comfortably for a while. ”

A lump formed in my throat, and I struggled to keep my eyes from blurring. I would never be free. There was no such thing for someone like me. Despite my efforts, a soft sob escaped my lips just as Roman applied the salve.

His hands froze. “Did that hurt?”

His concern for my well-being made me want to laugh, but I choked it back. It didn’t make sense for him to be so kind. Men caused injuries; they didn’t treat them.

“Why are you being so kind to me? I was an unspeakable burden last night.”

“You’re human, Estrella. Not a burden. There’s a difference.”

“But you had to fight that vampire, and I stabbed you, and then the river...” I trailed off. “Are you going to send me back?”

I hated the vulnerability in my voice, how it trembled and slowed, ensuring he heard it. His gaze met mine, scanning me as if he could read my innermost thoughts from my face. Not in the way that other men stripped me with their eyes, but as if he could peel away my flesh and see the soul beneath.

“You’ll find I’m quite durable, doll. I can handle fights, frozen rivers, and stabbing.” He chuckled, a small, sad smile curling his lips. “As for your choices, I think you’ve paid for them. Don’t you?”

“So you aren’t going to send me back?”

“I would never send you back there, doll.” He finished tending to my hands and stood. “Turn around; I need to check your back.”

I did my best to comply, but every movement was a challenge. Pain shot through my body like white-hot fire, and I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out.

“Stop, I’ll help.” Roman’s tone was soft, unlike anything I had heard from him before. I didn’t like it.

He lifted me gently, turning me around so my back faced him. I caught my first glimpse of myself as the blanket fell away. I wore a white linen button-up far too large for me, and it was on backward.

As if he could read my confusion, Roman explained, “Bells thought one of my button-ups would be best for monitoring your back while keeping you clothed. She dressed you; I promise I didn’t see anything.”

I brushed my stiff fingertips over the thick shirt cuff. The fabric was softer than anything I had ever owned, and it felt nice against my battered skin. “Why does it matter what you see? You own me; you’re entitled to every inch of my body.”

He finished unbuttoning my back and began peeling away the first bandage. I winced as the crisp air burned my raw wound. “Do you honestly think so little of me that you’d believe I would take advantage of you?”

His comment made me pause. It wasn’t really about him; he was kind, but there was only one reason acolytes were purchased—to be used. “That’s my purpose, Your Highness.”

“Not to me.”

His words should have comforted me, but instead, they felt hollow.

My tiny flicker of hope had just been extinguished, and now the prejudices and expectations I carried were crumbling like sand, leaving me with nothing.

I didn’t know how to handle that, especially as the gaping hole in my gut widened.

It took a while for me to find my voice again, long enough for him to move on to my fourth bandage. “Why purchase me, then?”

“You and your questions,” he sighed. I pursed my lips to fight the frown forming. He had been so open, yet now he was dancing around the most pressing question I’d asked.

He finished rebandaging my wound and buttoned my shirt. “Get some rest, doll. I’ll make sure someone brings you food. Don’t move too much, or you’ll reopen the scabs.”

As he stood to leave, I noticed the torn fabric of his still-damp shirt, revealing perfectly healed skin. He left damp shoe prints behind as he walked out the bedroom door. I was left staring at those footprints, my unanswered question still ringing through my mind.

Roman kept his word. Shortly after his departure, food was delivered.

I picked at it absently, my mind elsewhere.

My hopes for freedom, for a better world beyond my cage, and my fear of Matei had fueled me my entire life.

Yet the world outside was just as cruel as the one I had known.

If Roman was to be believed, my fear of being returned was a farce. I didn’t know where that left me.

Then there was the look of panic in Roman’s eyes as he pulled me from the river, the relief that I was alive. Only my sister had ever looked at me with such care. His gentle touches had brought clarity and calm to the turbulent waters of my mind. I wasn’t sure how to process that.

He didn’t visit me again that day, and if I was honest, I was disappointed.

I woke to a soft knock at the door. I groaned and rubbed my eyes, blinking in the soft morning light. Spring rain pattered against the windows like a soothing lullaby, cloaking the sky in gray.

“Come in.” It felt strange to invite someone into my chambers. I had never had such privacy before.

Roman stepped in, his hair neatly groomed, wearing a crisp linen shirt rolled to his elbows. His wings were out today, giving him the appearance of a dark angel. He carried a silver tray piled with an assortment of items I couldn’t quite make out.

“Good morning, sir.”

His smile faltered as he approached my bedside and placed the tray on my lap. “I really wish you’d stop calling me that. It reminds me of my father.”

I glanced over the tray with vague interest. There were little sandwiches, a tea set, and a deck of cards.

He had really gone all out. “Breakfast in bed served by the tsar himself? I must be a lucky girl.” I gave him a smile, only half forced, and picked up one of the sandwiches. “Thank you, Roman.”

He sat in the chair beside my bed. “I thought you might appreciate some company. Sitting in bed all day can be quite dull without a good conversationalist.”

“And are you a good conversationalist?” I asked.

He smirked. “I’d like to think so.”

“So confident,” I teased. It was nice to see him in better spirits, a semblance of normalcy amid the chaos. Even though I had been wrong about so much, at least I knew what to expect from him. Suave and arrogant Roman was the one I understood.

I bit into the sandwich, barely containing a moan of pleasure at the flavor. The bread was soft and spongy, with the crunch of fresh cucumber adding a delightful contrast. As I munched, Roman picked up the deck of cards.

His nimble fingers shuffled the deck with intimidating speed and precision, not even glancing at the process as the cards fluttered like a bird’s wings blending into the sound of the rain. “Do you know any games?”

I shook my head, captivated by his movements. Vampires looked human, but even their subtle actions revealed an inhuman grace.

“No? What did they teach you at that godforsaken academy?” he teased.

I smiled, though my stomach twisted at the reminder of my lessons, most of which had been spent learning how to be satisfactory in the bedroom.

Learning to please a man was a dark part of my memory that I had shoved into the back corner of my mind and did my best to ignore. “They taught me how to please you.”