Dawn of Dae

by R. J. Blain

  A high could make anything feel good.

  “Mommy?” Colby bounced onto the edge of the bed, hopping in place in its excitement.

  “Hey, you didn’t get fried,” I mumbled and considered whether or not I wanted to attempt getting up. “Good.”

  Maybe I wasn’t as coherent as I thought. I decided it didn’t matter, and with a contented sigh, I burrowed in the blankets.

  “Mommy!” With two long leaps, my roommate came to a halt near my feet. “Mommy.”

  Rob came into view and sat on the end of the bed, staring at me with a faint smile. Once again, I was aware of how much younger smiling made him appear. The clean lines of his charcoal suit brought out the brown in his hair and brightened the blue of his eyes. “Thank you, Colby.”

  “Mommy,” Colby announced, pausing for a moment before stringing its favorite—and only—word in a long speech. I had no idea what my macaroni and cheese was saying, but Rob seemed to understand it.

  When Colby fell quiet, Rob nodded. “I’ll take care of it. Your breakfast is in the kitchen.”

  Colby lunged past the other dae and vanished off the end of the bed. I retreated under the blankets, curling up. “I’m not awake.”

  Rob laughed. “You haven’t been awake for three days, Miss Daegberht. I have reassured the college you are safe, but considering the circumstances, it was wise to keep you hidden until they managed to deal with the uprising.”

  “Uprising?” I pulled a pillow over my head, wondering if I really wanted to know and if I could fall back asleep. “There’s an uprising?”

  “A few dae decided it was worth copying your kidnapper’s destruction at the college. I have no idea if they’re accomplices or simply opportunists.” At the disgust in the dae’s voice, I squirmed under the blankets enough to peek out. Rob stretched out on his side beside me, bracing his weight on an elbow and propping his chin with his hand. “While I have mostly smoothed things over for you and made your various employers aware of your rather extensive injuries, there are things I can’t attend to for you. Mr. Smith is one of those problems, and he insists you live up to your end of your arrangement with him. He’s quite displeased.”

  “He’s always displeased,” I grumbled.

  “He is under the impression you have aided his quarry.”

  “He got eaten by a werewolf.”

  “That is difficult to prove without the dae’s confession.”

  “You were the one who broke the werewolf’s neck.”

  “That makes it a bit more challenging.”

  I grumbled curses, and while I wanted to snarl at Rob for making my problems worse, there was no way he had killed my scapegoat to spite me on purpose. “Damn Kenneth, anyway. He’s always trying to ruin me. Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

  “You’re a talented and beautiful woman, that’s why. Of course he wants you. You’re also stubborn and do not want him, which makes you all the more desirable.” Smiling at me, he threw back the blanket so my head and shoulders were uncovered. “It infuriates him he hasn’t been able to claim you.”

  “You haven’t, either,” I snapped, grabbing the blanket and pulling it close to me. Unlike during my captivity with Arthur, I wasn’t naked under the covers, although my attire was limited to a thin, sleeveless nightgown.

  No wonder the elite liked silk. It was smooth and slick on my skin, almost as sensual as the plush blankets. The texture distracted me enough I didn’t notice Rob moving until he touched my chin with a finger and turned my head so I faced him.

  “I appreciate a challenge far more than he ever will.” The way Rob smirked at me stoked my fury, as though he knew something I didn’t and took great satisfaction in it.

  “What makes you think you’re any different from him?” I spat the words at him, struggling to extricate myself from the blankets. My face burned.

  Amusement brightened Rob’s smile, and he stroked his hand from my chin across my cheek. I tensed in anticipation of pain. Instead of the itching burn, his touch feathered across my skin, soft, smooth, and gentle.

  “You’ll see,” Rob murmured, and he pressed his thumb to my lips.

  I bit him hard enough to draw blood. While he hissed, he didn’t move, and his blood dribbled onto my tongue. A tingle spread through my mouth, enveloped my head, and swept through the rest of me. I gasped and let him go, shivering as the sensation intensified.

  “That’s not fair, stealing my blood without sharing yours.” Rob laughed, sticking his thumb in his mouth. Once he licked away the blood staining his skin, he showed me where I had bitten him.

  The wound closed while I watched. Fascinated, I grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand towards me. All evidence of the injury faded.

  Rob’s skin was smooth and warm. Mine was roughened from climbing so many buildings over the years. The blisters and rashes from touching others hadn’t done me any favors, either.

  He reminded me of the silk I wore, and fascinated by the texture of him, I brushed my fingertips along the line of his wrist to his palm. Rob relaxed his hand.

  “You’re soft,” I mumbled.

  He flexed his fingers, and his muscles tensed under my grip, hinting at his inhuman strength. “Not so soft,” he replied with laughter in his voice. “What are you doing, Miss Daegberht?”

  Between the pleasurable comfort of the blankets and the buzz in my head, I relaxed, stroking my hands over Rob’s hand. His palm was rougher than his arm, and he kept still while I worked my way towards his shoulder. Like his forearm, the inside of his elbow was smooth. Calloused skin marked the outside, catching on my fingertips.

  “Not so soft,” I agreed, poking him.

  “Elbows typically aren’t.”

  “Mommy?” Colby asked from the foot of the bed.

  I jerked, rolling away from Rob when I realized I had wiggled closer to him in my effort to examine his arm.

  With a scowl, Rob sat up, twisting in the direction of my roommate. “Mommy is busy right now, Colby.”

  “Mommy,” my roommate complained.

  “She’ll be fine, Colby. Go do your part of the work. I’ll watch her.”

  Colby muttered scornfully, but retreated from the room.

  Once it was gone, Rob turned back to me, scooting closer. He took hold of my right hand, and as I had, he brushed his fingers over my skin. With wide eyes, I watched him, tensing in expectation of a reaction.

  His touch was light, gentle, and soft, and the tingling in my head strengthened. My face flushed, and warmth crept down my throat to my chest. Tracing his fingers over my palm, he paused at one of my more prominent scars, a pale line stretching from my thumb to my pinky finger.

  “What happened?”

  Staring at my hand, I frowned. Why did he want to know? Seeing no harm in humoring him, I replied, “Kenneth wanted me to do some work for him. It got ugly.”

  Sometimes Kenneth didn’t send me sniffing after debtors, but after one of his hounds who had gone astray. I’d been a trusting fool back then, and I had a matching scar across my stomach to show for it.

  If the other bitch’s strike had been a little stronger, I would’ve been the one to die instead of her.

  Rob tugged on my hand. Puzzled, I stared at him. He brought my palm to his mouth and brushed his lips over the scar. My eyes widened.

  His mouth was far softer than his hands. The warm tingle in my head raced to my palm and left me squirming in its wake. My breath caught in my throat, and the drumming of my heartbeat filled my ears.

  “I don’t like the sort of work he has you do.”

  “Gotta get by somehow,” I mumbled, torn between angry at his criticism and fascinated by the way his mouth moved against my skin.

  Holding my arm several inches away from his face, he turned his attention to the next scar, one that ran along the length of my forearm. “This one?”

  “Same,” I grumbled and tried to pull my arm away from him as my annoyance surged. “Different day, same old shit.”

  Ro
b scooted closer without releasing me, although he didn’t fight against me. Without his gaze leaving my scar, he stretched out beside me, lying on top of my blankets. “I definitely don’t like the sort of work he has you do. He told me you were doing a job for him, so I couldn’t have you until he was done with you. He was very insistent you needed to finish what you started or he would cause trouble for you. I disagreed, of course. Of course, he isn’t aware I know the nature of his side business in drug dealing. He believes I think of him only as a property investor and purveyor of exotic goods. What sort of job are you running for him? He didn’t give me the details.”

  I growled, not caring if I sounded like a werewolf. “Terry Moore’s drugs.”

  Without the drugs—or the cash—Kenneth would ruin me in the eyes of the elite to keep me as one of his bitches. Once I finished with the job, I’d find a way to keep away from him.

  Agreeing with Rob about my working for Kenneth irritated me, and the buzz in my head wasn’t enough to dull the edge of my anger. I grumbled curses under my breath, yanked my arm free of his grasp, and rolled over.

  “What about the drugs?”

  “Gotta recover them—or Kenneth’s money. That’s the job. Was supposed to sniff out information on him, too, but it won’t do the boss any good now.”

  Rob’s breath tickled the back of my neck. “Why not?”

  Shivering at the dae’s close proximity, I scrunched my shoulders and clutched at the blanket. “I already told you a werewolf ate him. It had pink wings. You broke its neck. It’s your fault I can’t finish the job. At least I could have given Kenneth the info on Moore’s killer,” I complained.

  “It breathed fire near you.”

  I hadn’t been the werewolf’s target, although I had been singed during the fight. I frowned. “What does that have to do with it? You snapped its neck, so I can’t even use it to save my ass. This would be a lot easier if you hadn’t interfered.”

  “I see. Mr. Smith was rather quiet about the details of your work for him, much to my annoyance. Had I known you could have used that dae, I would have kept him alive for you. I suppose I will have to assist you so you’re able to locate this Terry Moore’s drugs so you can satisfy Mr. Smith’s demands. However, I will insist you cease putting yourself in dangerous situations for his profit.”

  I twisted around to face him and snapped, “How many times do I have to tell you? You don’t own me.”

  Once again, Rob pressed his thumb to my lips. My frustration welled up, and I bit down as hard as I could. Instead of letting him go as I had before, I held on until my jaw ached from my effort.

  “Vicious,” Rob murmured, stroking his fingers along my jaw to seize my chin. “I think you like making me bleed. It’s really not fair, stealing my blood without offering to share, Miss Daegberht.”

  The tingling buzz swept me to a stronger high, and while I was aware I had bitten him in retaliation, I lost interest in inflicting as much pain on him as possible. My hold on his thumb loosened and I went limp.

  For years, I had spent my days seeking my next drug-induced stupor. During the stronger highs, I disconnected from the real world for a little while, dazed and lost rather than pleased. I floated, keenly aware of the soft warmth surrounding my body. The silk of my nightgown caressed my skin, and with a contented sigh, I closed my eyes and wiggled my toes.

  Pleasure left me incapable of clinging to my anger, although as the last of my resistance crumbled to dust, I mumbled, “You drugged me.”

  “You were hurting,” was Rob’s quiet reply. He ran his thumb along my lower lip before stroking his fingertips across my cheek. “Rest, Miss Daegberht. You need it. Tomorrow is soon enough, and if you’re not doing better by then, it’ll wait.”

  I paid the price for escaping Arthur with chills and fever. My entire body ached, and despite my protests, Rob dulled the pain with drugs. Time distorted, and when I finally managed to fight my way through the medicated fog, I was alone and the bedroom was dark. Sweat bathed me, and shivering at the way the silk nightgown clung to me, I threw off the blankets.

  The room’s lights were dimmed low enough to keep my eyes from hurting. Someone, likely Rob, had left another nightgown draped over the back of a chair beside the bed. On trembling legs, I explored, grabbing the silky garment on my way by and draping it over my shoulder.

  I found a bathroom connected to the bedroom. The lights were dimmed but strong enough for me to fumble my way around without killing myself stumbling into something. I groped for the switch, found the dimmer, and brightened the lights.

  The tub took up most of the space, tiled with white marble veined with black and gold. Extinguished candles waited on the tub’s ledge and were also scattered on the wall-to-wall vanity. My reflection caught my attention.

  All signs of the burns and rashes on my face were gone, and entranced, I inspected my skin. While there was still a faint grayish cast to my bronzed skin, I found no evidence of my usual rashes.

  I didn’t itch. Puzzled, I rubbed my cheek where Rob had touched me the last time I had been awake, wondering if I had dreamed it. The mirror confirmed what my fingers told me; no bumps, hives, or rashes marred my skin. Unlike my hands, there were few scars on my face. I leaned against the vanity, turning my attention to my feet. While my toes were scabbed, the rashes I remembered from Arthur’s touch were likewise gone.

  How long had I been laid up recovering? I vaguely remembered Rob mentioning three days, but how long had I been with Arthur? How much time had gone by since I had rescued myself and Rob had found me on the streets?

  I shuddered at the thought of Arthur, and my skin crawled as though filth covered me. In addition to the huge tub, a glass-enclosed shower took up a corner of the room. Determined to scrub away the memories, I closed the bathroom door, locked it, and stripped.

  While I was aware of the fact Rob had dressed me in the silk nightgown, the presence of a lacy bra and equally lacy panties disconcerted me. They were black and so comfortable I hadn’t noticed I was wearing them until I took them off.

  Narrowing my eyes, I set them aside, torn between keeping them or tearing them to shreds and burning them. I couldn’t bring myself to destroy them.

  They were too pretty—and expensive. What Rob really was started to sink in, and shivering from more than the cold, I stepped into the shower. It took a little bit of experimentation to figure out how to work the taps to get the water to a temperature I liked.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had been able to take a shower without the sting of blisters and rashes. Scrubbing at the invisible stains, I cleaned until I turned red and my skin wrinkled. By the time I emerged from the shower, my stomach gurgled protests at being empty, I had a faint cough and a sore throat, and I couldn’t decide if I was too hot or too cold.

  I decided to wear the underwear and the clean nightgown, wiggling at the way the silk clung to my skin. With no one to watch and make fun of me, I ran my hands over the material, marveling at how something could be so smooth.

  Had my persistent rashes dulled my sense of touch? Curious, I brushed my fingers over the marble vanity. The stone was cool and slick under my fingers. The faucets and knobs were made of brushed metal, textured enough to draw my attention.

  I emerged from the bathroom, pausing to trail my fingers against the walls. The subtle bumps of the paint beneath my hands intrigued me. I crossed to the bed, sitting on the side to grab the blanket. It was as plush and soft as I remembered, and with a contented sigh, I brought it to my cheek and rubbed my face with it.

  Stealing from the elite was stupid, but I wanted to take the comforter home with me. Would they even notice its disappearance? The thought of trying to sneak back to my apartment while carrying such a large blanket made me giggle.

  My stomach gurgled again, and the discomfort of hunger distracted me from my enjoyment of the bedding. Scowling, I staggered to my feet and resumed exploring.

  The bedroom alone was large enough to fit my apartment,
and a maze of hallways led deeper into the house. I lost count of the number of offices, bedrooms, and sitting rooms I discovered before locating what had to be the living room.

  The television was as large as the bed in my apartment, dominating one wall in front of a couch easily able to sit ten with room to spare. My eyes widened as I took in the dark upholstery—leather, I guessed—and the golden oak end tables and coffee table. Tall lamps in each corner illuminated the room. On the other walls were hundreds upon hundreds of books. My mouth dropped open, and I tiptoed into the chamber. The nearest shelf held leather-bound volumes.

  With shaking hands, I touched the spines with my fingertips. The leather was smooth and pebbled at the same time, and the contrast intrigued me almost as much as the lack of a title. Pulling it down, I flipped it over. The cover was blank. Careful of the spine and the pages, I opened the book.

  Lined but otherwise blank pages waited for someone to fill them. I returned the journal to its place and picked up the next one to discover it was also blank. I headed to the next case to discover government-issued encyclopedias. I circled the room, my disappointment growing as the library proved to consist of allowed material only.

  On the other side of the living room, I located the dining room and the adjacent kitchen. Like the bathroom, the kitchen favored white marble with matching countertops. Stainless appliances contrasted with golden oak cabinetry.

  “Weird,” I muttered, wondering why anyone would match marble to such a bright shade of wood. I shrugged. If I had the wealth to own such a ridiculously large house, I’d probably have a crazy kitchen, too.

  Rummaging through a stranger’s kitchen unnerved me, but if I didn’t find something to eat soon, my stomach would eat its way through my spine. I peeked into the refrigerator, finding a bewildering assortment of meats, vegetables, and fruits. I sighed.

  I turned my search to the cupboards, discovering a lot of spices, flours, and other dry ingredients. If I wanted to appease my hunger, I’d have to either figure out how to eat the strange fruits crammed in the fridge or cook something. Cooking while under the influence of drugs was never wise. I chewed on my lower lip, sighed, and decided it was worth the risk.