Page 21 of House of Darkness (The Fallen Star #1)

I looked back at him, my lips parting and my body tensing like a coiled spring.

To be part of this family—his family—would that mean love and comfort like displayed here?

I wouldn’t know because my family was nothing like this.

Outside of my sister, my family had been fueled by distrust and fear.

The term caused panic to coil in my gut like spoiled food.

I was saved from responding as a group of servants entered, carrying trays of golden tea sets, a coppery scent wafting off them.

The last girl brought in a tea dish with a piece of fruit, clearly an afterthought.

My stomach rumbled pathetically. After weeks of having free rein over my portions, the thought of being restricted again twisted my insides into knots.

Roman followed my gaze and scowled. “Please bring more than an appetizer for my acolyte. No need to starve her. Fresh bread, zacusc?, and butter would be nice. Some semblance of a vegetable too.”

I gaped at him. He had memorized my favorite dish. My fingers twisted into my skirts, and my cheeks flushed. It was thoughtful for no other reason than to be kind. There was no ulterior motive. It didn’t make sense, but I found myself enjoying the feeling.

With that, dinner commenced. It was a chaotic, cacophonous affair, and I savored every moment. It reminded me of better days at the academy when my sister and I would laugh about nothing over trivial meals.

Sorin drew attention to himself like a stage performer, speaking with a casual arrogance that effortlessly provoked reactions from others through crude comments I didn’t want to giggle at, yet couldn’t help but do so.

His innuendos didn’t stop with Isabella and me; he comfortably flirted with the other boys, eliciting snorts and eye rolls.

He relentlessly teased Roman, and for a while, I didn’t understand why Roman tolerated it.

Then I noticed the soft curve of his lips and realized he was just as entertained by Sorin’s antics as Sorin was in performing them.

Between Sorin’s escapades, Razvan regaled us with grand tales of his travels.

He wove stories with a lyrical cadence that made me feel as though I were right there beside him.

Enso would interject with his own recollections, having served as general of war for Roman’s father for centuries.

Something I wanted to know more about but was too afraid to ask.

The pair shared a calm energy, their voices harmonizing like a drum playing alongside a flute.

I found myself surrendering to the vibrant energy surrounding us, allowing my worries to fade into the background, replaced by a hum of contentment.

Even the colorful haze of their auras, which enveloped the table like a fog, didn’t bother me.

Roman’s earlier comment echoed in my mind: Being part of this wouldn’t be so bad.

I wanted to believe that; my soul yearned for that truth more than anything.

Yet my mind poisoned it with the fear that it could be taken from me.

I would make a mistake that even Roman couldn’t look past, and I would suffer.

The only safety I would find would be in isolation.

After dinner, Tatiana appeared, her head down and voice monotone. “I am here to escort you and your acolyte to your room, Your Majesty.”

In the chaos of the evening, I had forgotten the intimacy of our sleeping arrangements. Roman’s eyes flicked to mine in a nervous glance, but he masked it with his usual ease. He extended his hand to me. “Let’s go, doll.”

Alexander’s room was on the far side of the castle, through a maze of winding corridors.

The house felt like a labyrinth, and it took several silent minutes for us to reach the double doors guarded by sentinels clad in gilded armor.

I wondered whether they were there to protect us or threaten us. My bet was on the latter.

The room's interior was as opulent as the rest of the palace.

Turquoise walls were embellished with swirls and trims of solid gold.

Chaise lounges were strewn about, piled high with plush pillows.

At the center loomed the largest bed I had ever seen, draped in black and gold covers with golden silk curtains trailing down.

The bed had to be big enough to comfortably fit ten people. I quickly dismissed that thought.

Tatiana bowed. “I hope this pleases you, Your Majesty.”

Roman scanned the room, a frown tugging at his lips. “Your count certainly has eclectic tastes. Thank you, Tatiana.”

She departed without another word, leaving only us and a massive bed between. At least the bed was large enough for us to sleep comfortably without getting too close. Unless he expected more.

“What now?” I finally dared to look at him. He stood at the foot of the bed, where our suitcases sat side by side.

“Now I’m going to bathe and go to bed. This may surprise you, but fighting a lion was exhausting.” He unlatched his suitcase and retrieved a pair of linen pants. “You can take the bed; I’ll sleep on one of the chaises.”

“That’s ridiculous. What if a servant walked in to find the tsar sleeping on a chaise while his acolyte slept in a bed? If anything, I should sleep on the chaise.”

“You aren’t sleeping on the chaise.”

“We could just share the bed.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’ll take the chaise.”

I threw my hands up in exasperation. “The bed is massive. I was closer to my sister and cousins in separate beds than we would be. You’re the one who caused this whole issue by demanding the count’s room—why make it weird now?”

Roman smirked and stepped closer, causing my breath to falter.

My gaze traveled up his bloodied chest to meet his eyes, simultaneously the most attractive and intimidating man I had ever had the pleasure of basking in the presence of.

His body was lukewarm, but I could feel the heat between us.

He reached out, his hand still smeared with the count’s blood and pinched my chin. “I knew I liked your attitude.”

Then he slipped past me into the bathing chambers and shut the door behind him.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Despite my best efforts, I remained the cute pet in his eyes.

It was difficult to find my footing with a vampire who happened to also be the ruler of the world.

It didn’t help that he was also a behemoth.

The faint scent of copper wafted to my nostrils, and I remembered he had touched me with his bloodied hand.

I quickly wiped my face with my dress sleeve.

I opened my suitcase, seizing the opportunity to change out of my gown.

My only nightgown was wholly inappropriate for this situation—barely long enough to be considered a chemise, with flimsy straps and a low cut.

I laid it out on the bed and stared at it in horror.

It wasn’t as if I had anything more modest. Outside my few gifted gowns, my wardrobe lacked modesty.

I riffled through the closets for a robe or something, but the women’s clothing left behind was just as revealing.

Straps of leather and lace adorned garments specifically designed not to cover anything important.

I grimaced. This was a disgusting sex room that I now had to share with my master, whom I had spent my entire life learning how to please but didn’t want that.

I was expected to endure all this in a scrap of fabric that barely concealed me.

I huffed and changed. By the time Roman emerged from the bathing chamber, I had braided my hair back, rolled it into a bun, and was ready for bed, albeit indecently. He was running a towel over his damp curls, and he froze mid-step.

“Well, that’s… fascinating.” His heated gaze swept over me.

My cheeks heated. I would chastise him for staring, but honestly, I was no better.

He stood shirtless, his tattoo a beacon that drew my attention to his toned chest. His gray pants hung low, entirely inappropriate.

The way he held his arm while drying his hair made his muscles flex, and that was indecent too.

“I didn’t bring anything else. I wasn’t exactly prepared to bunk with you.”

He grinned, dropping his towel over the arm of a nearby chair. “I’m not complaining.”

“Well… good.” I crawled into the bed, trying not to think about the activities that might have taken place in it. At least Roman had insisted on fresh linens.

“Are you sure sharing a bed is alright with you?” I had my back to him, unable to see his face, but his tone hinted at uncertainty.

I rolled over to face him. He had a hand on the blanket but remained motionless, his eyes wide in a way that made him look young. Naive even. “Are you okay with it?”

His wings shifted along his back. "Yes. I just don’t want you to think… this was my goal. My intent was to punish Alexander, not you."

I laughed. "Roman, two weeks ago, I was sleeping on a straw mattress barely wide enough to fit me. Now I’m lying on a silk spread big enough for my whole family. I’m alright."

His shoulders relaxed at that, and he crawled into the opposite end of the bed without further complaint.

Despite my reassurances, I was hyper-aware of his presence, of the way the mattress dipped under his weight.

It was ridiculous; even if we reached out, we wouldn’t touch.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling of closeness.

The room was silent, but my mind buzzed with noise. I looked at Roman’s form, the ruffle of his feathers barely visible in the darkness.

"I can feel your eyes on me. What is it, doll?"

"Truth for a truth?"

He rolled over, his glowing eyes the only illumination against his silhouette. "Alright."

"Why don’t you ban the sale of acolytes?" My thoughts turned to my cousin, and the suffering reflected in her eyes. It wasn’t fair, but my heart needed someone to blame.

"There are some questions you may not want answers to."

"I want to know."

He sighed. "I tried, when I first took the throne. Banning the abuse of acolytes was my first step toward completely outlawing the practice. The morning after I passed the law, I woke to find a pile of murdered girls on my doorstep. They had been tortured."

His eyes closed. "It happened everywhere. Murdered acolytes were left to rot in the streets as a protest against the law. My mistake caused so many innocents to suffer and die. And after everything, it didn’t change anything.

Acolytes are still abused, as you know. I tried to help and only made things worse. "

Horror gripped my heart like a vise. "I had no idea..."

"I’m not surprised. The Kultas were involved in keeping the genocide under wraps.

If their acolytes had found out, they would’ve rioted.

" Roman’s eyes reopened, blazing like torches in the darkness.

"Things are never simple, Estrella. If banning acolyte sales was as easy as issuing a decree, I would’ve done it already.

But you must change the minds of the people first, and when dealing with thousand-year-old vampires, that’s a challenge. Why do you think I’m here?"

I had never considered the complexities of freeing acolytes. What would we do anyway? The world wasn’t designed to accommodate us, and we weren’t raised to handle freedom. We would be slaves to our own upbringing, bound to serve regardless.

"Your turn," I murmured, my mind swirling.

"You knew Tatiana, right?" Roman propped himself up on his elbow, his hand tucked under his head.

I nodded. "She was a bit older but always kind to the younger girls.

The day we began lessons in... sex, was terrifying.

We had to watch it happen while trained the best ways to please.

She cradled me that night while I screamed and cried.

She never tried to tell me it was alright—never tried to normalize it.

She was just there. I loved her for that. "

Roman shifted closer, just enough for his hand to brush against mine. The back of his roughened fingers glided over my knuckles, sending a comforting tingle through my skin. "Your turn, doll."

I contemplated his duty, the enormity of his position. He hadn’t been driven by a personal desire to take the throne, yet he ruled gracefully and brutally, naturally stepping into the spotlight. "Did you want to be tsar?"

His fingers paused in their gentle caress.

"No one has ever asked me that. I don’t know.

I watched what Leonidas did and thought about what I would do differently.

I see the suffering my people endure and want to help, and this is the best position for that.

But having everyone fear me can be isolating. "

"I don’t fear you."

Roman's lips curled into a slight smile. "No, you don’t."