Page 15
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A scream erupted from her mouth; her body engulfed in flames. She kept screaming, unable to escape the fire.
The flames licked at her skin, hot and ravenous, their crackling roar deafening in her ears. The acrid scent of burning filled her nostrils, choking her as her vision blurred from the intensity of the heat.
She had never been in so much pain.
“Tavia. Tavia!”
A voice, soft and insistent, broke through the chaos.
She woke with a gasp, sitting up abruptly. Her skin glistened with sweat, damp and clammy against the night air. Her heart pounded like a war drum in her chest, and tears streamed down her face, hot and unchecked.
Lucius was on the bed next to her.
It was dim, the faintest silver light spilling into the room, but not fully night.
She glanced around, her gaze darting to the open window where the first hues of dawn—muted purples and delicate oranges—filtered in. The cool breeze brushing through the room starkly contrasted the inferno in her dream.
“Hey,” Lucius murmured, his voice low and soothing. He reached for her, his touch warm as he gently grabbed her face, brushing back strands of damp, sweat-soaked hair.
“It was just a nightmare,” he said.
But she couldn’t stop shaking, her muscles tight and her breath shallow.
He lifted her onto his lap as if she weighed nothing and held her, rocking her rhythmically. His hand stroked her hair in slow, calming motions, the steady rhythm matching the faint chirp of awakening birds outside.
She kept trembling, her body rigid against him, her mind unable to form coherent thoughts. It had felt so real—the fire.
Her parents weren’t in this one.
This time, she was trapped in her home, the familiar smell of pine reduced to the acrid stench of burning timber. She could still feel the phantom heat blistering her skin.
She gripped his shirt, the cool fabric a relief against her overheated palms, trying desperately to steady herself.
“Same dream?” he asked, his voice gentle. His hand stroked her hair, rubbing small circles on her back as he rocked her in his arms.
“Different,” she managed to say, her voice trembling. “I was on fire. My home again.”
The words came out between gasps, each one hitching in her throat. She had never had nightmares this close together, and she didn’t understand why.
Lucius tightened his embrace, his arms strong and steady.
“It’s all right. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you. It’s just a nightmare.”
“What if it’s not?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It feels so real.”
The phantom heat of the fire clung to her skin, her mind unable to separate the memory from reality.
“Let me run you a bath. A cool one, okay? Stay here.”
She nodded, her head bobbing slightly against his chest. He picked her up effortlessly, his arms firm and reassuring, and set her back down gently before disappearing into the washroom. The sound of rushing water soon followed, echoing through the quiet space.
She curled into a ball, her nightdress clinging to her damp skin, her body still trembling from the intensity of the dream.
After a few minutes, Lucius returned. Without a word, he scooped her up again, his embrace carrying a faint scent of cedar and something earthy and comforting. He carried her into the washroom and placed her in the bath.
She sank into the water, the coolness enveloping her and soothing the lingering heat on her skin. A faint lavender scent wafted from the water, mixing with the clean, crisp scent of the early morning air drifting through the washroom window.
Lucius moved to a nearby cabinet, his movements deliberate but quiet. He returned with a small vial of clear liquid.
“Here,” he said, crouching beside her. “Drink this. It’ll help calm you.”
“What is it?”
“Just a calming tonic. Valerian root, chamomile.”
She took the vial, the glass cool and smooth against her fingers. She downed it, the earthy taste of herbs lingering on her tongue, and handed the empty vial back.
Sighing, she rested her head against the rim of the tub. The tension in her muscles slowly began to ebb.
Lucius knelt on the floor next to her, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The faint light caught on the sharp angles of his face, softening his features as he rested his arms on the tub's edge.
“As soon as this is over, I’ll come back to your home with you. If you want me to.”
Tavia nodded, the faint ripple of water breaking the stillness as she shifted slightly. She could use a friend. She feared returning home to find nothing there—her parents gone, the house empty.
Her eyes stung with fresh tears, and she cried, her shoulders shaking silently.
“No, don’t,” Lucius said, moving closer. He rubbed the sides of her face, his hands warm against her cool, damp skin.
She sat up in the tub, pulling her knees to her chest. Her sobs came harder now, raw and unrestrained.
He rubbed her back, the steady rhythm grounding her.
“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out,” he said firmly, his voice steady and sure.
“They’re so vivid,” she said, her words choked with emotion. “They’ve never been this bad.”
“Are you hungry?” Lucius asked after a moment.
She shook her head, still trying to steady her breathing.
“The bread’s almost ready,” he added, his attempt at levity softening the mood.
“Again?” she asked, managing a weak smile despite herself.
“Well, since I don’t need to sleep, I find kneading dough relaxing,” he replied with a shrug.
Tavia nodded, her gaze lingering on him for a moment. Then, without thinking, she leaned over and hugged him. Her damp nightdress soaked his shirt instantly, but he didn’t pull away. He held her tightly, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered. “I’m glad I met you.”
Her vulnerability hung in the air, and she clung to the comfort he provided.
He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands.
“That makes two of us,” he said softly. “Now enjoy your bath, and when you're ready, come have something to eat. We have a big day today.”
She nodded and watched as he stood, his movements graceful. He gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off in one smooth motion, revealing skin that caught the dim light like polished stone. Each ripple of muscle looked as though it had been carved with precision.
He tossed the shirt into the corner of the room, the soft rustle of fabric breaking the quiet.
“I left the robe for you here,” he said, gesturing to a neatly folded bundle of fabric on the counter. “And there are more boxes—but do not open the one with the black bow. That’s for tonight. ”
Tonight was the masquerade.
Tavia leaned forward, resting her arms on the rim of the tub, her gaze following him as he moved. She imagined he’d been like this even before turning immortal. Despite herself, she didn’t mind watching him.
His lips curved into a teasing grin, his fangs barely visible.
“Is my pretty dove admiring the view?” he asked, his voice a low purr.
“Maybe,” she replied, her cheeks warming despite the cool bathwater.
“You know,” he said, his hands moving to the top button of his pants, “there’s more of me to see.”
Tavia sat up straight in the tub, shaking her head quickly, her damp hair clinging to her skin.
He laughed, the sound rich and deep, reverberating through the small washroom. Without another word, he turned and exited, closing the door softly behind him.
Tavia exhaled, sinking back into the bath.
The lavender water wrapped around her like a protective cocoon, its scent chasing away the last traces of the nightmare.
Was this how all males acted? Somehow, she doubted it.
From the ones she had encountered during her thieving days, most had been either brash or dull. Some were gentlemanly, but Lucius had an air of regality around him, a caring nature that felt rare. There was no bitterness in him despite all he had endured.
Captured for decades, locked away in darkness, yet he seemed content just to be free and alive again.
Maybe he’s completely insane , Tavia thought. That seemed like the more logical explanation.
Years in confinement could’ve driven him mad, and he might be pretending that nothing had happened to him.
But she didn’t know the whole story of his captivity. Had he been tortured? Starved? Or simply locked away and forgotten?
Why hadn’t they killed him?
She suspected there was more to his imprisonment than he let on. Still, he hadn’t pried into her past—into the years she’d spent surviving on the streets as a thief. So she extended the same courtesy, refusing to push him for answers, especially if the memories were ones he sought to avoid.
The water cooled as Tavia lingered, her thoughts churning.
Finally, she stood, droplets sliding down her skin as she stepped out of the tub. The nightdress clung to her like a second skin, heavy and soaked, but she stripped it off, letting it drop to the floor with a wet slap.
She wrapped herself in Lucius’s robe, the fabric soft and oversized, its faint cedar scent comforting. It was quickly becoming one of her favorite things.
She padded out of the washroom, her bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor.
Lucius’s humming drifted through the house, a low and melodic tune that added a strange warmth to the quiet. The scent of fresh-baked bread filled the air, rich and inviting, mingling with the faint traces of lavender still clinging to her.
In the bedroom, her eyes fell on the stack of boxes, one of which was tied with a big black bow. She stared at it, curiosity sparking.
What could he have bought her ?
She knew Lucius had rich taste, and she wouldn’t be surprised if the contents of the box were grand enough to rival the masquerade itself. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure about his plan for tonight.
They had the rest of the day to think about it—to plan an escape if something went wrong.
But Tavia wouldn’t let it come to that.
Her time on the streets had taught her how to sense when things were about to turn. If she felt any sign of danger, she’d make sure Lucius got out, even if it meant putting herself at risk.
No one would capture him again.
No matter the cost.