Ch 43: Bite
Lucien stood there eyeing Charlotte with a mixture of feelings that he found hard to put into words. On one end, he respected the woman for her strength, and on the other, he had never seen her this drunk. She looked nothing like her usual self, her eyes drowning in intoxication, gazing up at him with a puppy-like softness and was expectantly waiting for him to thank her for the paperwork and all the work she had done to allow Melissa's admission into the academy.
Unable to see her eyes that almost threatened to cry. He opened his mouth and with his usual impassive voice he thanked her, "thank you," and he meant it. He was genuinely grateful for everything she had done, even if his personality rarely allowed him to express such things openly and he was not a man who liked being soft.
But ever since the memories of his previous life as Evan had returned to him, he had felt something different stirring inside, as though two personalities were locked in a quiet, constant struggle against one another. Lucien's nature overpowered Evan's more often than not, yet there were moments when Evan's gentler disposition would surface uninvited and push him toward things the old Lucien would have never considered. And strangely, Lucien did not hate it. He only felt something inexplicable each time it happened, something close to deja vu at discovering he was capable of what he had once dismissed as weakness.
One such moment had come when Melissa woke up in the infirmary. Evan's side had taken over completely, filling him with guilt, and before he had even thought about it, he had already apologized to her. He had gone too far during the duel. He had taunted her and mocked her, and he had regretted it deeply afterward because none of it had been his true intention. What he had wanted, from the very beginning, was only to test her strength and shield her from Patrick, whom Lucien had been certain would go all out without a second thought and end up seriously injuring Melissa, who knew almost nothing of real combat.
But his plans had collapsed beneath him. He had sunk too deep into Lucien's nature, the part of him that despised weakness with a cold and unrelenting contempt, and he had pushed Melissa far beyond her limits. He had forced her to pour out her power haphazardly, and had he not stepped in when he did, she would have shattered her own mana core.
If her core was destroyed, then he would have carried that guilt for the rest of his life. In his previous life, while reading the novel, he had felt a deep and quiet sorrow for Melissa, for the loss of her parents, for the hollow, doll-like existence she had been reduced to. That grief had resonated with Evan, who had also lost his parents in childhood and understood, in his own way, what it meant to become empty.
So when she had almost destroyed her manapaths, he had been terrified in a way that surprised even himself. He had stayed beside her in the infirmary until she woke up, using every expensive potion he had on hand. Only after seeing her recover, and after offering his apology, had he finally stepped out of that room.
"Huh? Did you rea...ally thannnked me?" Charlotte mumbled with disbelief, leaning in close, her head tilting up to look at him as her breath came in unsteady waves.
Lucien was pulled back to the present by her mumbling. His gaze dropped to his right hand, still caught in Charlotte's grip, her palm tightening around his wrist just short of pressing her nails into his skin, which he feared would happen at any moment. He wanted to push her away and leave her to herself, but seeing the state she was in, he could not bring himself to do it.
"We should talk tomorro..." Lucien's words died in his throat as Charlotte's left palm came up and sealed his mouth shut. The intoxicating smell coming off her hand hit him immediately and he pulled his head back, patience snapping. "What are you doing?" he demanded sharply, unable to contain himself any longer.
Charlotte was being far too touchy. Their relationship had always been formal, a carefully maintained distance between them, and now she was dismantling all of that without hesitation, closing the gap between professional and something far too personal.
"Shush! Can’t we talk today?" Charlotte asked in a hushed voice, her head drifting closer toward him, her eyelids threatening to fall shut at any moment.
She began to lean forward, tipping toward him, and Lucien's instinct was to step aside and let her stumble, but he feared she would hit the ground hard and crack a bone or two, so he held his ground and let her fall into him once more. Her head found his shoulder and her eyelids fluttered wildly, each blink opening a little less than the one before.
"You smell nice," Charlotte murmured softly.
Lucien tightened his grip around her waist, keeping her upright, already thinking about carrying her to the sofa in the corner of the room so she could sleep it off. But before he could take a single step, the woman bit him on the neck. He felt his blood run cold. He threw her back instantly, her teeth having nearly drawn blood, and his anger broke loose before he could stop it.
"You disgusting bitch!" Lucien snapped.
Charlotte stumbled backward a few steps, and Lucien, who had assumed she had finally fallen asleep, watched with disbelief as she remained standing, swaying on her feet, her eyelids still fluttering furiously in their losing battle against unconsciousness.
"Hehe, you look handsome even when you are ang...ry," Charlotte said softly, touching her lips with one finger, and then with a voice barely above a whisper she collapsed to the floor. Her body met the ground with a loud, heavy thud, and there she finally fell asleep.
Lucien stood over her with a feeling torn cleanly in two. He could leave her on the floor, which was the easier choice and the one that would spare him from her smell, or he could lift her onto the sofa in the corner, which his conscience preferred but which his caution dreaded. This was a fantasy world, after all, one where no situation was ever truly predictable and where villains or demons could appear from any direction without warning, and leaving a woman completely unprotected and unconscious in an unlocked room sat poorly with him regardless of how much she had annoyed him. But the latter choice came with its own problem, mainly the very real possibility that Charlotte would wake mid-carry and sink her teeth into him again, and he had no interest in finding out where she might choose to bite him next.
Lucien glanced back toward the door. His attendant Connor had not yet returned. With a quiet click of his tongue, he walked over to Charlotte, bent his knees, and gathered her up into his arms in a careful princess carry. He crossed the room with steady steps, doing his best to ignore the stinging smell drifting off her, and lowered her onto the sofa. He reached into his ring and pulled out a blanket, draping it over her body so she would not catch cold in the night.
He allowed himself one last look at her face, which was a picture of disarray, her purple hair tangled and spilling in every direction, and yet the woman still managed to look beautiful in spite of all of it. Lucien let out a slow breath, turned away, and quietly pulled the office door shut behind him. He took up his position just outside and stood there waiting for Connor to return, keeping watch over the door so that no one could take advantage of a woman who was in no condition to protect herself.
***
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