Chapter 61: A Vampire’s Mercy
On the way, Lucian said nothing. His steps were calm, as if her humiliation held no effect on him. Yet the weight of his coat on her shoulders felt its own gravity.
Her thighs pressed tightly together as she walked, an unconscious attempt to keep any more blood from falling. Each step she carried against the polished floor felt heavier, as though it mirrored the shame, gleaming too brightly under the noon sun.
When they reached the door to his room, Ruelle watched as Lucian pushed it open and stepped inside. A hush of cool air slipped out, carrying the soft scent of old parchment and something distinctly that belonged to him.
"M–maybe I should return to the previous room," she murmured, voice small and uncertain.
"I did not know that room offered protection from vampiresses," he replied. There was no mockery in his words, only matter‑of‑fact observation.
Her pulse fluttered. Living with her stepmother and Caroline had afforded her enough knowledge about the situation. And Caroline was always in discomfort and complaining. Her sister, though younger, had bloomed two years ago.
"It will be messy. I—I don’t want to inconvenience you," her words almost turned into a whisper.
Lucian turned, expression unreadable. He remarked nonchalantly, "I am a vampire, not some mindless beast. Your blood tempting me should be the least of your worries right now."
Something in his tone was calm and unflinching, which reassured but also unsettled her at the same time.
Ruelle stepped in behind him, her steps hesitant.
She watched him walk to the tall, carved wooden divider at the far end of the room. Behind which was the bathtub nestled in shadow. He reached for the bronze tap and turned it on. Water gurgled into the bathtub, steam coiling upward like gentle tendrils.