Page 45 of Captive
"I'll oversee the northern evacuations personally," Thornmaker offered, drawing Boarstaff back to the present moment. The spearmaster's eyes held knowing assessment. "Since your attention seems... divided these days."
"My attention remains where it's needed," Boarstaff replied, though the slight tension in his voice betrayed him.
The council members exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them. Boarstaff had felt their growing wariness each time he returned from the sealed chambers, as if they sensed some fundamental change in him. As if the boundaries that separated warchief from prisoner were eroding in ways that unsettled them all.
He found the border guards maintaining disciplined watch despite obvious exhaustion. Their numbers looked thin after the recent losses, yet they stood their posts with unwavering vigilance.
"The wounded should recover," Murkub reported, his own arm bearing a freshly bandaged gash. "But we're stretched too thin now. The younger warriors may need to take shifts sooner than we planned."
Boarstaff nodded grimly. "Double the lookouts near the ridge where the ambush happened. They'll try the same approach again, thinking we're weakened."
But even as he assessed defenses, issued orders, fulfilled the endless demands of leadership, part of him remained in the chamber below. With brass that hummed with life at his touch and eyes that held potential beyond mechanical control. With truths about vampire nature that challenged everything both their peoples had built their societies upon.
The night horn sounded as he made his rounds, checking defenses, reviewing positions, ensuring his people remained safe through another darkness. His path naturally took him past the sealed chambers.
"He keeps asking for you, Warchief," one guard reported. "We didn't think it was urgent at first, but he's growing more insistent."
Boarstaff caught the slightly uneven rhythm of Sebastian's breathing, a pattern he'd learned too well. The vampire was awake, aware of his presence just beyond the threshold.
He should go in. Check the restraints. Ensure the prisoner remained secure. All the excuses he'd used before.
In that moment, he didn't need an excuse. Sebastian required feeding, and Boarstaff was the only one who could safely do it. He took a breath, nodded to the guards, and went in.
Sebastian's eyes opened immediately, focusing on him in the dimmed crystal light. "I wondered if you'd come."
"The transformation requires regular feeding," Boarstaff replied, keeping his voice neutral as he knelt beside Sebastian.
"Is that why you're here? Just duty?" Sebastian's eyes held questions that went beyond their feeding ritual, and the slightest hint of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
Boarstaff drew his knife without answering, making a practiced cut along his wrist. "Take what you need, nothing more." He paused, studying Sebastian's face. "And don't think this is more than what it is."
As Sebastian drank, his touch was extraordinarily gentle, taking Boarstaff's wrist with unexpected care. Boarstaff found his free hand moving to Sebastian's shoulder, ostensibly to steady himself, but lingering longer than necessary. The warmth beneath his palm felt entirely too human for comfort.
When it ended, Sebastian's tongue traced the wound with deliberate slowness, sealing it with an intimacy that made Boarstaff's breath catch. Their gazes met for a moment, Sebastian's holding that same knowing look, before Boarstaff pulled back.
"Do you need anything else?" he asked, the question emerging before he'd fully considered it.
Sebastian's eyes widened slightly before he shook his head. "What I need is to be free of these bindings and to have more blood than you can safely give me. Neither of those will be granted tonight." He paused, then added, "Though I wouldn't say no to some clothes. It's been days since I've worn anything."
Boarstaff raised an eyebrow. "Your nudity never seemed to bother you before."
"I wasn't exactly myself before," Sebastian replied. "And you weren't here to ask. The guards would have refused anyway." His lips curved into that knowing smirk again. "I don't suppose you still have my things?"
"We kept them safely stored," Boarstaff said, then added more carefully, "I'll consider it."
The smirk widened slightly, and though Sebastian said nothing, his expression made it clear he had his own theories about why Boarstaff might be reluctant to cover him up.
When he reached the threshold, he paused and glanced back, catching Sebastian watching him with an expression that suggested he understood exactly what was happening between them, even if Boarstaff wasn't ready to acknowledge it. Was it the intimacy of the feedings, or some magic that was flaring between them, robbing them of their free will? There were ancient tales of vampires taking others as their partners, that were more than just blood donors. Even if he asked Sebastian, would the vampire know the answer, or give him a true answer? Or was it something more, a level of fate that was forcing them together so they could stand together in some dark times ahead?
Even as he completed his nightly rounds, his thoughts returned to metal awakening to remembered life. To truths about vampire nature that challenged everything both their peoples had built their societies upon. To choices that would reshape more than just his own understanding.
Even his dreams turned to the texture of brass and flesh against his hand, to connections that transcended ancient enmity. To what Sebastian might be becoming as transformation worked deeper, guided by ancient magic toward something neither could have imagined.
That was between him and the darkness.
Chapter Nineteen
The crystal-lit chamber felt different. Sebastian lay against the ancient floor as magic flowed through his body, no longer violently tearing away his synthetic components but instead working to reshape what remained. The brass that had once regulated his existence pulsed with unfamiliar rhythms, awakening to possibilities he had never intended.
