Before The Darkest Hour

Ten

Jacel

I storm out of the room, the wound delivered by my mate still aching.

She will not have me.

Rejected.

Her physical hit did not hurt more than my pride, and in all honesty, I am happy she fought. But against me, her own mate? It is too much.

I should have paid better attention to her thoughts when I approached her. In my mind, I thought the fear scent radiating from her was due to the soldiers, a residue I wished to scrub free from her body with my own hands. The realization that it was me who caused her unease came a bit too late.

Just another thing that is wrong in this world, upside down. She does not know that I am her mate, her other half. Or perhaps she does, and she just doesn't find me worthy.

Her rejection hurts worse than any physical pain I have ever endured.

As soon as I am out of the room, I make my way back down the hallway, to the entrance of this underground dwelling. Should I leave her here? The breath leaves my chest at the idea. No. I cannot abandon her. Not without knowing the truth of why she doesn't want me.

I have a few ideas already.

My hands are caked with already drying blood, and I wipe them against my jacket as I stalk down the hallway. The stains do not come free, not without water to wash them away.

A single sigh escapes me as I close the gap between me and the open doorway ahead. It is thick, too much metal to claw through. If any of my people want to get inside, they will have to ask nicely. I smile, but it slips from my face. My mate will not be safe around any of my people, not until they find themselves again. Not until their bloodlust is satiated.

The pile of problems I have to deal with stack upon my shoulders, as they have for many years.

That is the burden of a leader.

I close the door tight, turning the metal lock until it clicks into place. No one will be able to enter without permission. And I will not leave until I am forced out by my mate, maybe not even then. Who else is there to protect her from the strength of maddened dhampirs, or other males who want to take advantage of her softness?

My teeth ache at the thought, ready to tear into the flesh of any who dare to harm her.

I turn then, wandering back down the hallway from which I came.

Even now, I know she does not want to see my face. All of the other females screech and spill hot wet tears when they see me. She did not cry though. She did not do much more than stare at me when I went to her, touched her. That has to mean something.

My lips lift in a small smile. Perhaps I have a chance at winning her heart after all.

This building is unnatural. All sharp lines and white walls, like the color has been sucked from the surface. It feels wrong, not at all like home.

I am not home any longer, I remind myself.

I have to get used to these walls, these bare and boring rooms. I pass by door after door. The building is empty except for the beating hearts of the six women who still cower from me in the room I left them in. If I am going to make this work, then I will need my own lair.

A place to make mine, to feel comfortable.

Because no matter how frightened my mate is of me, I will not leave her side. Not until I talk to her, explain who I am and what has happened to the world outside of these walls. She deserves to know the truth about me, about those wild beasts that roam outside of this sanctuary.

But first, I must get her to trust me. To see me as a man, instead of a monster.

I turn the corner of one of the long corridors and find myself in front of a door, left ajar by someone who was in a hurry to escape this place. I push the wooden door open, letting the scents from inside waft near. Smoke and sweat, mixed with a bitterly sweet smell that reminds me of the nectar that bled from the trees back in Azure. That gentle reminder of home is what beckons me forward, inside the small room.

A brown cushioned chair is pushed under a wooden desk inside, and a small table lines the back wall. On top of the table is a bottle, where the sweet scent is the strongest. Red liquid sloshes inside as I lift the glass container. Could this be blood? It certainly doesn't smell like blood.

Without letting the scent put me off, I raise the bottle to my lips and drink a mouthful.

The liquid has only just touched the back of my throat before I begin to cough, the burn of the substance trailing down into my stomach. I grimace, placing the bottle back down onto the table.

I turn back to the rest of the room and let my eyes glide over its contents. Nothing of much importance stands out. The desk has papers littered about, the floor is the same color as the hallways, it's small.

But it will do.

As I pull the chair back from the desk and settle into it, I think of my mate, and what I will have to do to ensure that she becomes mine.

My nature tells me to just take her, make her see that she was meant for me and me alone.

But I know that is wrong, and I have already met the fierce spirit she carries within her. She would not take kindly to me stealing her away from her friends. Instead, I need to comfort her. Offer my protections. I cannot rush this, or she will fall away from me again.

I have to be strategic.

My lips lift again, the grin stretching my skin.

If there is anything that I am a master at, it is strategy.

War.

Fighting for my people.

And now, she is my people. I will fight for her the way I have for all of my kind.

One step at a time.