Chapter 12

The days begin to bleed together. In the mornings, I wake to find breakfast made, Hyadum beaming at me over the fruits of his labor. Fruit studded pastries one day. Tiny egg and sausage casseroles the next. Fresh fruits, unlike anything I've seen on Earth, but delicious and filling.

Then I head to the lodge, tending to those that still need more care, more healing. Our load has lightened considerably, though. Anyone who could walk has left, heading for the safety of the walled town of Westshear, the one Hyadum can't wait to get me back to. Sulen continues to be a solid companion and co-worker, sweet and affable.

I try to pump her for information, though that's probably not the right term. She's only too happy to tell me anything I'm curious about.

Like Hyadum.

"Explain to me why he's in charge?" I ask her, about a week after I arrived. She keeps curtseying to me, and I finally have to command her to stop.

"His house, House Taurus, has always held these lands. They have the power to protect us, and they always have." Her nose crinkles, her mouth twisting to the side. "Well, they always have tried to protect us." Her expression falls as she realizes Hyadum failed to do exactly that.

Because of me.

Something must show in my face, because Sulen touches my forearm gingerly.

"I meant no disrespect." Her eyes brighten. "Besides, you are here now, and you will protect us, too, as soon as you seal the bond and have your powers."

"Real subtle, Sulen." I can't help snorting. The girl is more invested in my sex life than I've ever been. It's not funny though, not really. These people depend on the power of House Taurus, and to them, I'm another barrier to the vampires that have been ravaging their lands for over a century. I can't blame her for rooting for me to get laid.

Hyadum's so careful with me, though. The scorching kiss I can't stop thinking about has been the only one. I'm careful with him, too, if I'm being honest with myself.

I'm afraid. I'm wound up, still getting used to this world, to a world without heated plumbing and without microwaves or Netflix binges or social media. Or coffee. At least my caffeine headaches have mostly abated.

Instead of Netflix, Hyadum tells me stories every night after dinner. We don't chill though. Not, erm, not like that, anyway. Sometimes, I catch him staring at me, and I know. I know he's thinking about sex. With me.

I like it.

"You're smiling," Sulen says, poking me in the ribs.

I clamp down, trying to frown at her, but she reminds me so much of Ali I can't help but immediately grin at her again. Little sisters gonna little sister.

Guilt immediately wraps itself around my heart and squeezes.

I shouldn't be smiling, or happy, or thinking about having sex with Hyadum. I should be finding my sisters. Arietis left to find them nearly four weeks ago now, and still, there's no word of either of them.

"I recognize that look," Sulen says, handing me fresh linens. The woman we're helping is clearly faking sleep, trying to listen into our conversation.

"I know you're awake," I tell her.

Her eyes snap open. "Well, it's hard to sleep with all the talking around here."

Sulen laughs, and I roll my eyes.

"Go on, tell her why you are upset. Better to get it all out there," our surly patient says.

I tie off her bandage, sighing. "I'm worried about my sisters."

"Don't be an idiot," the woman says. "They're with their mates. They are safe as can be."

"How do you know that, though?" Exasperated, I plonk down on one of the recently vacated benches.

"There is no safer place for a Starbound than with her mate. You make each other stronger. You are incapable of hurting each other. A perfect match." She nods her head, as if it all makes complete sense.

Uh-huh.

"I am allowed to worry about them."

Sulen's gaze darts to the side, and our patient makes an aggravated noise in the back of her throat.

"No one is saying you aren't allowed to worry about them. We're trying to tell you to stop beating yourself up about it. Do not ruin the seed of happiness by squeezing it so tight it never blooms."

My eyebrows scrunch as I try to make sense of her metaphor.

I spend the rest of the day in contemplative silence. Maybe they're right. Maybe I should make a stronger effort to open myself up to Hyadum.

By the time I walk through the desolate, depressing dirt path leading to Hyadum's cottage, my nerves nearly have the better of me. It was easier when I wasn't thinking about making an effort.

The smell of fresh bread and something spicy wafts from an open window. I close my hand around the door handle, willing myself to turn it.

Get a grip, Mina. This isn't different than any other night you've spent with him.

Just because I'm going to try to have an honest conversation with him doesn't mean I'm agreeing to anything, or jumping into bed with him. Though… it would be a hell of a lot easier if I could just climb him like a tree, without any eternal attachments.

I scrub a hand down my face. Jesus. Eternal.

Hyadum's hinted several times at how old he is, about how old I will one day be. Frankly, I would prefer not thinking about it. Take it day by day.

I scrounge up the bravery to turn the handle, and the door swings open.

Unlike past nights, though, Hyadum's not alone. Thom, the captain of the guard, presses his hands into the island, his face set in an expression close to anger. Hyadum's back is to me, but I can tell he's pissed, too, from the way he rolls his shoulders, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The tension in the air is thick, and whatever I was about to say dies in my throat.

"Absolutely not," Hyadum says.

Thom's gaze darts to me and back. "I still think it is a good idea."

"I will not do it, and I do not want to hear another word from your mouth about it," Hyadum snarls.

What the fuck have I just walked in on?

Thom flinches before remembering himself, straightening his shoulders and dipping his chin at me. "Mina Kat," he says.

"Uh, hi," I drag out the sound, unsure. Weirded out by this confrontation.

Despite his grumpiness when we first met, Hyadum's been nothing but sweet with me. It's… jarring to see this side of him again.

"Mina," Hyadum says, and blatant relief chases the irritation from his face. A little part of me thrills at that, but I don't move from the door, a deer caught in the beam of their attention.

I clear my throat. "If I'm interrupting, I can take a walk and come back?—"

"No," Hyadum growls, injecting the word with command.

The hair raises on the back of my neck. "What's going on?"

"I had an idea to draw out the blood drinkers," Thom begins.

"Enough!" Hyadum's entire body posture changes, and he takes a step towards Thom.

What. The. Fuck.

"Understood," Thom says. "I just want to make sure Westshear is safe, same as you, Hyadum." There's an undercurrent to his words I'm too tired or too ignorant to grasp, and I blink.

"Leave," Hyadum orders.

"I will see you tomorrow in town then, Mina Kat. Be safe," Thom says, bowing his head before squeezing past me to leave.

The door shuts behind him, and still, I don't move.

Hyadum's chest heaves, and his eyes are slightly glazed, his thick lips pressed thin. At the mere thought of his mouth, heat rushes through me, and I close my eyes, inhaling deep through my nose.

"Hyadum," I start to say, but before I can get my question out, he's there, pressing me up against the door.

The breath leaves my lungs in a quick exhalation, and when I draw another, my breasts push against the muscled slab of his chest.

"I would do anything to keep you safe," he says. There's a fierce edge to his voice, and his focus is honed on me. His heart feels frantic against mine, beating fast and wild through the thin layers separating our skin.

"I know," I say, because I do. I may not have believed him at first, that my safety and happiness was important to him, but I do now.

"We leave for Westshear at first light," he says.

"All right," I agree, a bit breathlessly. I'm half-afraid to breathe too deep, afraid it will push me further against him. Afraid I'll break, and all my best intentions will crumble in a moment of higher oxygenation.

"No argument this time?" A low chuckle rumbles out of him, and he quirks one eyebrow.

Without thinking, I brush a finger against it, feather-light. His face turns towards my hand, his lips brushing against the flesh of my wrist.

A gasp catches in my throat, and every nerve suddenly jolts alive.

"No," I agree.

He steps away, and I clutch my hand against my chest, my wrist on fire with the brand of that hint of a kiss.

I realize what I've said a second too late. "I mean, no argument. My patients are well enough. They can either come with us or tend to their wounds on their own. They're out of the woods. If you think it's safer in Westshear, I trust your judgment."

I trust you, I want to add, but I don't.

"Have you heard anything from Arietis? Was that what you and Thom were talking about?"

"No." He shakes his head, his expression shuttering. "You know I will tell you as soon as we receive word of your sisters."

"Okay." Crossing my arms over my chest, I swallow, my gaze flicking to where a red, fragrant sauce simmers on the woodstove. I want to know how they're doing. I want to know if they're okay, if they're happy.

I want to hear it from their mouths myself.

But he's right—I know he is. Talking to my patients about the horrors of the vampire attack, because that's clearly what the blood drinkers are, has made it crystal clear it's not safe to go off in search of my sisters.

I can't help them if I'm ripped to shreds.

"I made something a little different for dinner tonight," Hyadum says smoothly, catching where my attention's gone. "And I have given much thought to this dating you spoke of."

I turn to him, surprise stiffening my shoulders. I told myself I'd be brave, and open up to Hyadum, but no matter how convinced I was I would do it mere hours ago, actually doing it is another matter entirely.

"I was considering the moo-vies first, though I cannot understand the appeal of watching cattle."

My nose scrunches. "What?"

"Yes, the moo-vies," he says patiently, drawing out the ‘o' noise again. "You mentioned you watch them for hours at a time the other night."

Realization dawns, and I bite back a laugh. I don't want to hurt his feelings. "I don't think I did a very good job explaining what they are. Cattle aren't usually, ah, part of the viewing experience."

Crestfallen, the pleased light dies in his eyes. "But I had three cows brought here, in case you wanted to watch them after dinner."

I bite my bottom lip. "Movies are, um, moving pictures?" I mime an old camera, like what you'd do in a Pictionary game, then stop, because I seriously doubt I'm adding anything but additional confusion into this conversation.

"Magic pictures?" He steps closer. "I thought you said you did not have magic in your old world."

"It's not magic, well, besides movie magic." I hold up a hand. "You know what, I shouldn't have said that. It's science."

"How does it work?" His attention is wholly on me, and awareness of his nearness, of his single-minded focus, blazes through me.

"I don't really know enough about it to explain it."

"Hmmph," he says, moving to stir the sauce, a world of meaning in the noise. "If you do not wish to watch the moo-vies with me tonight, that is fine."

"I wouldn't mind petting one, give a little scratch between their cute little horns."

"Is that right, coruscant?" He levels a searing look at me from over his shoulder.

Oh boy. I walked right into that.

He laughs. "Come, we can eat and then take the cattle back to their pasture together. If you still have the strength for petting after that, we can discuss it."

I make a strangled noise. "I was talking about the cattle. The cattle!"

He blinks, all faux innocent, then laughs again. "Of course you were, coruscant. I would never presume anything else. Would you like to help me?"

I tilt my chin and give him an appraising look.

"With plating the food, Mina. Nothing more."

"Mm-hmm." I sidle alongside him. The small size of the kitchen paired with his enormity means I can hardly move without brushing an elbow or hip against him.

Every innocent touch sends a jolt of awareness through me. I clear my throat, handing him a plate he then fills with food.

"What were you and Thom talking about?"

A low growl sounds, and then he shakes his head, setting the ladle down. "I do not want to trouble you with it, Mina."

"I want to know," I say, steel in my tone. I set a second plate on the counter, then hop up to eat. He settles next to me, still quiet.

I don't push him, though. His brow is furrowed, and he eats with concise, efficient movements. I know him well enough now to know he's thinking about how he's going to tell me. He hasn't shut me down, and I trust him to tell me.

I trust him.

My eyebrows shoot up, and I shovel food into my mouth to keep from saying anything I might regret later. I'm so lost in psychoanalyzing that thought, I almost forget I'm waiting for him to answer my question.

"Thom thinks we should be more proactive concerning the threat of the blood drinkers."

My hand stops midway to my mouth, and I lower the spoon, giving him my full attention. "What does proactive mean, exactly?"

Hyadum sets his cutlery down, too, steepling his hands in front of his face, his eyes troubled. I wait, unexpectedly tense. Proactive could mean anything. It could mean starting a war, whatever that might look like. It could look like, hell, I don't know, triggering something weird and magical I know absolutely jack shit about.

"Thom thinks we should use you as bait. That we should draw them out, make you vulnerable, and they'll drop everything to try and snatch you."

My throat goes dry. "And what did you say?"

"I said no, Mina," he snaps. When he turns to me, his eyes are fiery. "I will not endanger you. I will not risk it." This is said more gently, and a wave of affection washes through me. He cocks his head, rubbing the base of one horn.

"Do you think it is a good plan?"

I snort. "No. I don't want to be bait. It sounds stupid. I don't know the first thing about protecting myself. I wouldn't just be bait, I would be a victim. Not doing it."

I pause, my nose scrunching. Slowly, I spoon more food into my mouth, hardly tasting it. Maybe I should have said yes? If I was braver, I would have. But I'm not an idiot, and working long shifts in an emergency room has taught me there is a very fine line between bravery and stupidity, and those that flirt with it usually end up hurt.

I need to stay safe. I need to find my sisters.

"Is that the wrong thing to say?" I finally ask, managing to swallow the now-tasteless food. "Should I be offering myself up?"

I squint at him.

Hyadum shakes his head slowly. "No. Why would it be? It is a fool-hardy plan, a desperate one cooked up by a man desperate to protect his family and friends. He is on edge after the attack here, and I cannot blame him for that. I blame myself for that failure."

He sighs, and I squeeze his forearm reflexively, trying to offer support. His gaze dips to where my hand rests on his wrist, then darts up to my eyes.

"It isn't your fault, Hyadum. You can't blame yourself for the actions of others."

"It is my fault. It is my job to protect the people in my territory. Their blood stains my hands."

"Hyadum, no. You didn't kill these people. You can't do that to yourself." I squeeze his wrist. "You are doing the best you can in what is essentially a war zone. With no back up. You are doing what you can to make them safe now."

The look he gives me is frightening in its intensity, and I scooch back in my chair, removing my hand as though burned.

"Come, let us see to our moo-vie," he finally says. He moves before I have a chance to process, picking up our plates and washing them off before marching out of the house.

I blow out a breath, pressing my palms into my eyes. I hate that he blames himself. Sure, this is his medieval style fiefdom or whatever, but these people are way out on the outskirts. He didn't order their deaths. He came running as soon as he heard, ready to tear up the threat, a one man army.

Outside, the unmistakable sound of a cattle lowing sounds, and I grin despite the snarl of my thoughts and pity for Hyadum.

I might not be able to go to the movies anymore, but he brought the moo-vies to me.

I hop off the stool, welcoming the thought of a walk and some fresh air.

And possibly, the thought of some more quality time with Hyadum.