Scene 7

He appeared as angel as he slept.

Or did he sleep? Did dhampires sleep? Did they dream? If they did, what did they dream of? Blood, death and darkness, as was theirs by birthright? Or did they perhaps dream of love and life and laughter, the sort of things they couldn't claim in the waking world?

This did Doris wonder as she sat on a stool by the dhampire's bedside. He appeared so peaceful with his eyes closed, hands folded together on his chest, hair splayed about him like a curtain of darkness. If she leaned over to kiss him, would he wake? Like a knight and sleeping beauty, only with the roles reversed...

He was definitely a beauty. It didn't matter how many times she stared at that exquisite face...never would the huntress ever relax. It sent a thrill through her blood and other places as well. A painter would despair, never being able to recreate his beauty with brush and inks. Nor could any bards sing enough to honor his power, nor any story written to ever explain just how otherworldly he was.

Then the protrait of perfection gave a little soft sound. A moan of pain.

Doris started. Somehow hearing that sound shattered the spell he held over her. He was not invincible, though often enough he appeared so. He had been injuried. He had been deceived. He had been killed even. And though he came back from it all, the young man carried the wounds of his years, even if such was not immediately apparent on his face.

She took one of his hands in hers. Maybe this was why D didn't like to have any see him sleep, or injuried, or emotionally impacted. D was a fortress, beautiful and strong. To let another see him anything less than perfect was to admit that he could be conquered by the swift sword of a vampire or...

...or the sweet kiss of a girl.

Doris fought back against the tears, thinking of how she'd easily let him protect her, take care of her. Thought back to when he'd fixed her fence, or milked her cows or any of the numerous things he'd done to help her around the farm. It wasn't enough for him to save her from a powerful vampire lord; the hunter had to run errands and do chores too!

It did make the young woman wonder why he'd bothered to. She hadn't asked him to and certainly not expected it. D spoke little, but did much, and never seemed to expect any kind of reward. Any kind of reward...

Doris's mind fluttered back to that night in the common room again when she'd asked him to take his reward. He appeared as if he might, but they'd been interrupted. Somehow staring at him now, vulnerable and tranquil, Doris thought that her affection for D had been as a child's love of a toy back then; a favorite toy, for sure, but without substance. Enarmored by his beauty, captivated by his strength, but what part of her really understood him?

Now, seeing him here, the young woman could feel how much more he had come to mean to her.

"Where are we headed?"

His eyes remained shut, but his smooth voice floated in the air. Doris very quietly released his hands and while the hunter made no sense to indicate he'd notice either that she'd held his hand or when she'd let him go, the young woman figured he probably knew. Little escaped the vampire hunter's notice.

"The Capitol. After we fought the vampires, the ship's captain was so grateful for our help that he offered to take us anywhere we wanted to go." Doris smiled and blushed, thinking back to when the ship's crew had surrounded her. It wasn't until the first mate offered her his coat that the huntress realized how scantily-clad she was in the nightgown. "I figured you wanted to go straight to the Capitol so he set a course there. He said it would take two days."

D nodded, eyes on the ceiling. Then they returned to her. "You may go."

Her lips twisted. You may go? That was it? She'd protected him, fought even when it frightened her to the marrow of her bones...and that was how he addressed her? Like some simple chambermaid who'd come by to put dinner on his tray?

Doris struggled to remain calm. Throwing a fit at his cold demeanor certainly wouldn't help the dhampire relax his guard any. If she ever hoped to peel away his layers and earn his trust and devotion, the young woman would have to be patient, diplomatic. She refused to just give up and go out, but there was a tactful way to keep him by her side. Or she by his.

"I should keep an eye on you. I don't want your wound getting infected."

"It won't." Curt. Cold. So very D.

She took a long breath. "You don't know that, D. We can't risk having that happen."

"I'll be fine. You may go." D's eyes shut and he lay his head back down on the pillow. Doris longed to rip that pillow out from under him but restrained the urge. She stood up to go, turning toward the door. D would never respond to kindness nor compassion; a dark shard stood in way of his heart, built in the darkness of his life.

Then Doris stopped, a smirk crossing her lips. Something else did get past that barrier.

"So when are you planning on collecting your reward?"

D said simply, "They will have the funds prepared for my return." His eyes didn't even open.

"Not that reward. The one of getting to do whatever you please to me."

Now the dhampire's eyes flew open, a brief flash of shock on them that Doris got to witness because she turned around just in time. Even D couldn't keep the breathless look that came over him at the mention of that. She was fully dressed at this point in her silk shirt, corset and leather trousers but Doris knew that the dhampire could accurately imagine her completely disrobed, all her pale virgin charm on display for him.

"'Cause, you know, once you're up and about we could see to that."

D sat up, peering at her cautiously, the wonder evaporating instantly. He was master of himself once more, donning the cloak of coldness he was so famous for. "That won't be necessary," was all he said.

"Are you sure...because I owe it to you." Approaching his bedside again at a slow, steady pace, the huntress smiled sweetly. D might be able to pretend he didn't care but he couldn't pretend that he didn't desire her. Doris had seen enough often the look of lust from men. None could ever hold a candle to D, though and the young woman hadn't bothered to let any try.

"In fact, you're probably strong enough to take your prize right now." She was barely an arm's length from him now. If the she leaned over Doris could give the hunter an ample view of her considerable cleavage.

His sudden chill halted her. "Leave, Doris."

She frowned. "Why, D? Why don't you take me? You were going to do so before."

D's lips opened to speak then he stopped. Then he opened them again. "No, Doris, I wasn't going to. Now please go."

A snort issued from somewhere around the hunter's left hip but Doris dismissed it, thinking it in her head. "Don't lie to me, D! You were all ready to go when the crowd came." Planting one boot on the stool she'd sat on mere moments ago, Doris stared him straight in the eye, struggling against the miasma he'd summoned around himself. "Come on D, claim your prize."

A chuckle now, one swiftly smothered as the vampire hunter clenched his left fist.

"What do you take me for?"

The sharpness of D's response shook Doris right to the core of her being. The undisguised emotion, that of anger and disgust, was as a lightning bolt to her spine.

"What do you take me for?" he asked again, softer. "One of those drifters you spoke of? Is that what they are capable of? To avail themselves of a woman who enslaved herself for no other reason than to be free of a worst captivity?"

Doris didn't answer and D didn't seem to expect, or want, one. "Is that the kind of man you think of me as? Without honor? Just a dhampire willing to take whatever pleasures he may simply because of the advantage he holds?"

A lump seemed stuck in the huntress's throat for she spoke huskily. "No, D, I know you're a man of honor; I've known since the moment I've met you. I told you this! I didn't mean..." Her voice broke off as she choked off a sob. The vampire hunter had already more than adequately put her selfish anger in its place; she need not appear as a waif again, bawling simply because the man she desired turned her away.

"Get out." Again that sharpness to slice through her rage and sorrow. "Leave right now."

The young woman didn't need any further prodding. Ashamed of her anger, disgusted at her own blatant and unsuccessful attempts to seduce D, she fled out the room as quickly and as quietly as she was able.

Outside of D's room tears spilled down her cheeks. Doris didn't care. All she cared was to be away from D and his wintry gaze. Instead of understanding him further or drawing him closer to her, the huntress seemed to drive him deeper into himself, perhaps beyond ever bringing the light back into his eyes.

She cried into the wee hours of dawn.