Page 16 of House of Darkness (The Fallen Star #1)

ESTRELLA

The bandages were finally able to come off. Isabella helped me unpeel them one by one, revealing the ragged, mostly healed skin beneath. I was astonished at how quickly the wounds had healed. Whatever Roman had been applying was nothing short of miraculous.

Yet the pain remained. Any twist or tug in the wrong direction sent fire racing through my flesh, leaving my movements stiff and awkward. Still, it was a relief to bathe and dress myself. A hot bath had worked wonders. I felt like a new woman.

Roman had promised to build furniture for my new office today.

Asking him for anything, given all he had done for me, made my skin crawl, but at least I knew how I could repay him.

A simple agreement, rather than indentured servitude to a man I couldn’t logistically live without, forced to keep him happy to survive.

It felt like a step toward more equal footing with my new warden.

I brushed through my hair as best I could despite the difficulty of lifting my arms, then dressed in a thick house robe of mazarine blue. The soft fabric left a trail of teeth-clenching tingles down my back. Roman met me at the foot of the stairs and led me out of the castle.

We took the same servant door through which I had escaped, the familiar frame casting a shadow over my soul. I had been so hopeful then, believing that if I ran fast enough, I could outrun all my problems. If only life were that simple.

It was raining—early spring rain that felt like icy insects crawling down the back of my gown, making me shiver. I had never been in the rain this long, and it was unpleasant. Roman lifted his wing to shield me from the downpour.

“Thank you.”

“Can’t have my doll getting wet.” He winked. My cheeks burned.

We followed a narrow path away from the front gardens, marked by crushed stone mostly covered with moss that squelched under my feet.

Budding bushes lined our sides, and I scanned their leafy exteriors for early-blooming flowers.

Rolling hills fell away on either side, and in the distance, I could just make out the dull gray slate of the lake visible from my room.

A low-lying cabin made of roughly polished logs stood only a few hundred yards from the castle.

It nestled among bushy trees, the first of their trailing white blossoms dangling from branches, bathing the entrance in a sweet, honey-like aroma muddled by the earthy scent of rain.

Roman folded his wings as we approached the sheltered front and pushed open the wooden door, which swung easily on well-oiled hinges.

The scent that greeted me was unmistakably Roman—a sweet, earthy smell of sawdust and the bitter scent of wood oil, layered beneath a smoky aroma.

It was difficult to see until Roman moved past me to a stone fireplace along the far wall and started a cozy fire in its hearth.

The orange glow of the flames danced along the wooden walls, bathing the space in a soft light.

A long workbench occupied most of the room, tools and wood shavings spread across its well-loved surface.

Wood pieces hung from the walls like abstract artwork.

Next to the fire sat a pile of chopped wood, and a worn splitting maul leaned against the stack.

I wasn’t surprised to see the rocking chair just as I remembered it, with the same quilt that had once comforted me after being pulled from the river.

“I’ve been here before,” I said, not as a question.

Roman froze.

I walked deeper into the room, brushing my hand over the thick quilt.

The memory, almost forgotten like a hazy dream lost to dawn, lay buried deep within me, never to truly leave.

It made sense that the most powerful vampire in the world would have special abilities.

Mind powers were rare, and the secrecy surrounding them gave him an edge over his enemies—or his pets.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” he murmured.

Rage bubbled within me. The feeling of being violated, touched without my permission, surged back.

Decades of being forced to choke back my emotions—to just grin and bear it—intensified my feelings of powerlessness and inadequacy.

My scabbed-over hands tightened around the fabric of my skirts, the tightness and inevitable bleeding from the pressure a satisfying pain to match the agony within.

I couldn’t hold it back any longer. Choking down that powerlessness and fear was like having a rock lodged in my throat, and I was done suffocating.

“You didn’t think I’d remember you manipulating my mind?” I turned to face him, relishing the way his eyes widened, and he stepped back. It wasn’t much, but having some control over his emotions, as mine had been controlled all my life, felt empowering.

“The alternative was making you suffer the pain and endure my fixing it.”

Endure my fixing it. My mind sluggishly worked through his words, the puzzle pieces clicking into place. A wave of revulsion washed over me.

“YOU LICKED ME!” I shrieked.

I remembered now—the slimy caress of his tongue over my ragged skin.

Purple spots danced in my vision as I recalled him tasting me while I was under his spell.

He promised to not take away my choice, yet he had the first chance he got.

A chisel was within arm’s reach, and I grabbed it, my blood from the fresh cracks in my palms smearing over its glossed cherry finish.

Roman's hands went up in surrender. “It’s not what you think, doll. Just like you taking my blood—”

“YOU HAD ME DRINK YOUR BLOOD?!” I threw the chisel as hard as I could, aiming for his arrogant face. He ducked just in time, and it bounced harmlessly off the back wall with a thud.

I reached for the next tool on the workbench, but in an instant, he was across the space between us.

He snatched my wrists before I could grab another projectile, immobilizing me.

I thrashed against him like a mouse in a trap, but it was useless against his strength.

My own incompetence weighed down on me, and I screamed into his face.

“God damn it, Estrella. Calm the fuck down before you hurt yourself more!” Roman yanked me to his chest and pinned my arms behind my back, his grip firm yet gentle. I hated that my body wanted to sink into his warmth and security. I hated him.

I bit him, right on one of those arms that were too bulky for their own good.

Roman laughed, the vibrations spreading from his stomach through his chest. “So feisty. You know I love your attitude, doll. I love your violence even more.”

He walked me backward, and despite my resistance, I found myself forced into the rocking chair. His weight pinned the chair back as far back as it would go.

He leaned back, his hands still holding mine. “You’re going to listen.”

I glared at him, which he ignored. “Vampire saliva cures open wounds, and vampire blood speeds up healing. Why do you think you’ve healed so quickly? You’re fucking welcome.”

Oh. “I thought it was the salve…”

“What do you think is in that salve? Honey, yarrow, and my saliva. More tasteful than me licking you, as you so delicately put it.”

I shifted uncomfortably, and this time, when I pulled my wrists, he let go. The fire in my chest dulled, the rage closing back up and leaving a ragged, aching hole. “You still didn’t need to manipulate me.”

Roman sighed. His hands moved to the chair’s armrests, causing me to gently rock forward. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to be in pain, but you’re right. It was a violation.”

The ever-shifting power structure of our relationship was shifting once more. Just when I felt like I had a bit of sway, I was reminded of my powerlessness. “What else can you do?”

“I can read the thoughts of others and send my thoughts to them. That’s how I send the visions—I picture them in my mind and send them forth.”

Mortification crept over my anger and helplessness. I was expected to be perfect, and with his powers, that meant my thoughts had to be perfect too. He had heard my every thought and feeling since we met.

“You heard my thoughts about Edward, that’s why you stepped in that night.”

He smiled softly. “I had to meet the acolyte feisty enough to fantasize about kicking a vampire in the balls.”

“And the night you picked me up too? You heard my thoughts about Matei.”

“I did,” he said, his fingers ghosting my cheek, “I don’t mean to intrude, doll. I do my best to keep out, but when you’re passionate about something, your thoughts shout at me.”

I ground my teeth to keep from sobbing. He had power over every part of me, including the ability to know my deepest thoughts. “You know everything about me, yet I have nothing. It’s like one more thing you have over me.”

“I don’t have anything over—”

“You have everything over me! You own me, Roman! And now I learn you have access to my every thought, yet I know nothing about you!”

“What if you don’t like the monster you find?” His jaw clenched, and the space between us stilled with a thick, electric tension as the weight of his fears settled on us.

“I’ve grown up around monsters, Roman. You can’t scare me.”

He leaned in until I could feel the heat of his breath on my lips. His eyes were like torches burning holes into my patchwork soul. He spoke in a low rumble that sent goosebumps racing up my arms. “You know nothing of monsters and men.”

His fingers traced a path from my cheek down my collarbone, across my shoulder, and along my arm. “You are quite delicious in blue, doll.”

I forced myself to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks and the warmth pooling in my stomach. “Tell me something important. Why did you kill Tsar Leonidas?”

He sighed. “A truth for a truth?”

I nodded.

“What do you know about Leonidas?”

I thought back. Roman had only recently taken the throne, so most of my education had been under Leonidas' rule. That didn’t mean I knew much about him, beyond the fact that he had ruled for several hundred years.

Our government education was basic—just enough to avoid embarrassment and please our masters but not focused on specific individuals.

“Only what I was taught at the academy.”

Roman nodded. “What they probably didn’t teach you is that he was a controlling, abusive asshole.”

He sat back, rolling into a sitting position on the floor in front of me.

He threw his arms over his knees and looked at me with solemn eyes.

“He wanted to use my powers to turn me into a weapon. When I was young, he would hurt me if I refused—take a finger, beat me, or cut my wings just to watch them grow back. As I grew older, that approach stopped working. I became too strong to control easily and too numb to the pain. So, he targeted my mother. He had always disregarded his acolytes, but by using her, he forced me to carry out his evil.”

A twisted smile transformed Roman’s face, turning him into something almost demonic. His fangs glinted in the firelight. “His mistake was thinking I’d never turn on him. He went too far with his abuse and killed my mother. I wasn’t there to save her, but I was there to enact her vengeance.”

I stared at him, stunned into silence. It wasn’t his actions that shocked me, but what he had endured. Matei had hurt me, but him threatening Solaris to bend my will was unfathomable.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“Can’t you just read my mind?” I asked softly.

“Like I said, I try not to. Tell me.”

There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice that made me really look at him. His brows were furrowed, and tension ran from his jaw through his broad shoulders and into his tightly clenched fists. He seemed genuinely concerned, as if my thoughts mattered to him.

“I’m thinking we’re more alike than I realized.”

Roman laughed, and my heart skipped a beat at the sound. He was always handsome, but when he laughed, reason seemed to dissolve. “What, two broken souls with anger issues and unhealthy avoidance tactics?”

I laughed in response. It was too true to be genuinely funny, but it was either laugh about it or cry. “Something like that.”

“Knowing what I did doesn’t scare you?”

I thought for a moment before shaking my head. “If I had the chance, I’d probably kill Matei. I don’t think ending your abuse makes you a bad person.”

Roman smiled. “Thank you, Estrella. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my powers sooner. I won’t keep things from you anymore, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Roman stood and walked to the far wall, pulling down a large, cream-colored slab of wood.

He slapped it onto his workbench, sending a cloud of sawdust into the air that dusted his midnight hair and feathers with sandy particles.

He found the chisel where it had landed and flipped it in his hand.

The sharp edge bit into the wood, peeling back layer after layer.

His muscles flexed under his rolled-up sleeves.

I settled into the rocking chair, eventually pulling the quilt from behind me and wrapping myself in it. It was fascinating to watch him work, the intense focus he brought to each movement. We spent most of the remaining day in silence. I didn’t mind; the silence around Roman was comfortable.