Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

In the middle of the deserted road, Edward had his hands placed on his hips. He stared at the damaged wheel as though glaring hard enough could repair it. On the other hand, Caroline had stepped away from the carriage. She murmured, "This is bad luck." Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her skirt and she whispered, "It's happened twice now."

Standing beside Caroline, Sawyer tilted his head and asked her,

"Are you suggesting we're all about to die here? Or perhaps this was all just a ruse so that we could kill you, just as you guessed," he grinned.

Caroline's eyes widened before she instinctively took a step farther away from him in horror.

Edward turned to the coachman and snapped, "You. Didn't you inspect the wheels before we left? Do you want your head off your shoulders?"

The coachman immediately lowered his head into a deep bow.

"I did check, Your Highness! Three times. I checked every wheel and even inspected the horses' hooves before our departure."

"Were you doing it in your sleep?" Edward narrowed his eyes and the poor coachman paled. The prince clicked his tongue before casting a glance towards the dark stretch of road disappearing into the forest ahead. The first two carriages were nowhere to be seen. He glared and demanded, "Well? Stop staring at it and get on fixing it."

"Y-Yes, Your Highness!" The coachman replied before hurrying back to the damaged wheel with beads of perspiration already forming across his forehead.

Caroline instinctively flinched when the wind stirred the branches above them. The rustling leaves seemed far louder in the darkness than they ought to have been, making her glance nervously towards the trees. Instead of finding danger, she found Hailey glaring at her.

"What?" Caroline asked with a huff, putting on a brave face.

"This is all because of you," Hailey muttered, folding her arms across her chest. "At this point, I don't think burying you here would be such a terrible idea."

Hailey continued grumbling under her breath, too caught up in her own misery to notice the frightened look she was receiving. If not for Caroline insisting on travelling together, she would have been sitting comfortably in Mr. Hawksley's carriage by now. They could have spoken during the journey and perhaps, if fortune had been particularly kind, even laughed together.

Instead, she was stranded on the side of a dark road. Perhaps it was the universe letting her know it wasn't going to happen and she sighed. Suddenly, a dagger was presented in front of her and she blinked.

Hailey slowly lifted her eyes and she saw Sawyer standing next to her. He asked,

"Have you hunted before?" Before Hailey could answer, he lightly touched the side of his own neck with a finger. "The vein runs here. Or better, just go from ear to ear and it will do the trick."

Silence settled over the road.

Caroline stared at him and then at the dagger before her face drained of colour. Without another word, she let out a startled cry before she bolted down the road as fast as her legs would carry her.

"You idiot!" Hailey scolded Sawyer, feeling vexed. "Look at what you did?!"

Sawyer watched Caroline disappear into the darkness before a quiet laugh escaped him. He admitted,

"I wasn't expecting her to run," and hid the dagger back in his coat. His gaze then shifted towards Hailey. "You should probably bring her back before something else finds her. Besides, you did suggest burying her first."

Hailey stared at him in disbelief.

Edward let out a long, exhausted sigh and waved his hand dismissively and said, "Go after her, Hailey. We'll stay here until the wheel is fixed."

These men...! Gathering the front of her skirt, she went after Caroline, shouting into the darkness, "Get back here! Caroline!" The winter wind whipped past her as she muttered under her breath, "And if you're planning to die, have the decency to do it somewhere else!"

At the theatre, Ruelle and Lucian's carriage slowly came to a stop. Fire burned in the tall fire pits around the entrance. Their flames swaying gently with the evening breeze and bathing the stone building in a warm amber glow. Polished carriages rolled to a stop one after another as coachmen hurried to open their doors for the passengers.

Once Ruelle stepped out of the carriage, she placed her hand on Lucian's arm. She noticed how lively the place was compared to her last quiet visit, which was during the day. Most of the women were vampiresses, though a handful of elegantly dressed human women walked beside the men who wore tailored coats.

"Mr. Slater."

A neatly dressed attendant stepped forward the moment they entered, a rolled parchment resting in one hand. Offering a deep bow, he said, "Allow me to escort you to your private gallery. This way, please."

Lucian gave a slight nod and they followed the man through the entrance hall.

The moment Ruelle stepped inside, a gentle melody drifted through the building, the soft notes of a pianoforte floating above the quiet murmur of conversation. Crystal chandeliers suspended from the high ceiling cast a warm golden light across walls and floor, while countless candles burned on the sides.

The air itself smelled different. Beneath the familiar scent of beeswax and polished wood lingered something sweeter. It reminded her of perfume, yet there was a freshness to it that resembled ripe fruit, delicate enough not to overwhelm but impossible to ignore. She couldn't remember smelling it the last time she had been here.

Glancing over the carved railing towards the stage below, Ruelle gestured her hand in the direction of the rows and said, "We sat there the last time we came. It was about a war hero who lost his limbs."

Very few people occupied the open seating below. Instead, elegantly dressed patrons disappeared one after another into the private galleries that circled the auditorium above, each hidden behind glasses that the other side couldn't see, offering both an excellent view of the stage and privacy.

"Mr. Slater, a pleasure to be seeing you here tonight," the man greeted with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, his gaze sliding past Lucian to linger on Ruelle's face as if to check something. A young woman in silk clung to his arm, her fingers twitching as if itching to be noticed. "And this must be—ah, yes, Miss Belmont," the man's voice turned syrupy, his hand lifting as if to reach for Ruelle. "Balbor Brooke. I don't believe we've been introduced—"

Lucian's hand shot out and his fingers closed around the man's wrist into a vise grip. "You have a remarkable memory, Mr. Brooke. But then again…" His fingers tightened just slightly, enough to make the man's smile twitch. "So do I."

"My goodness," Mr. Brooke's smile faltered. "It is good to see that a pureblooded vampire has been matched with a human. It would be odd for a treaty if it was with a halfling," he laughed.

It took Ruelle a moment before she realised what the man was getting on about. The rumour Lucian had slipped yesterday had begun to make circles.

When Lucian didn't let go of the man's hand, Ruelle cleared her throat and whispered, "Lucian." Her hand brushed Lucian's arm just once and he finally released the hand.

The man took a hasty step back, rubbing his wrist and said "W–well! Enjoy the play!" and the person disappeared from the sight with the woman he was with.

Ruelle and Lucian then continued to walk, following the attendant.

"This is your assigned gallery, Mr. Slater," said the attendant, who stopped before one of the carved walnut doors and unlocked it with a polished brass key. Pushing it open, he stepped aside with a respectful bow. "Refreshments will be brought up shortly. If there is anything you wish to have changed in the room, please let us know."

Ruelle's gaze wandered inside the gallery, which was spacious, and a plush velvet couch sat near the glass wall. Heavy burgundy curtains framed either side of the opening.

"It'll do," Lucian said, and the attendant immediately bowed.

"As you wish, sire." Without another question, the attendant quietly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"Do you come here often, Lucian?" Ruelle's voice was soft as she asked.

For a heartbeat, the corner of Lucian's mouth twitched at her question. Then he crossed the space between them in three strides before sinking onto the couch beside her. Close enough that the heat of him seeped into her side.

"Not really," Lucian replied, glancing at the gallery below, where people in silk and jewels were moving towards their seats. "Mostly for work."

Ruelle turned to him, eyes alight with curiosity. "Work? Like…"

"People become careless when they're distracted by their indulgences." Lucian's fingers tapped once against his knee, a restless, predatory rhythm. He continued, "Drunk, amused, aroused. It doesn't matter. The moment they let their guard down, they talk. And the right words in the right ears can open doors that would stay locked forever. Secrets come cheaply in places like this."

She turned to study Lucian's profile. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his dark eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement when he caught her staring. She then heard Lucian add,

"It also helped me with seduction technique classes."

Seduction technique class? Ruelle saw him stare right back at her. A servant knocked on the door and pushed a trolley of assortments. Lucian didn't look away from her as the servant offered him a glass of deep, ruby-red wine. The scent of it drifted between them, and Ruelle found herself leaning forward before she could stop herself.

"I'd like to try one too," she said, her voice lighter than she felt.

Lucian's eyebrow arched. The servant asked politely, "Shall I bring Vault twenty-six bottle for—"

"I want what he's having," Ruelle interrupted, her chin lifting just slightly and the servant turned to Lucian.

"That isn't meant for human consumption. It is too strong," Lucian warned her with a slight frown. He then murmured, "Curiosity has poor timing." He dismissed the servant with a wave of his hand, "Leave us."

The door clicked shut behind them, sealing the gallery away from the light bustle of the corridor. Ruelle looked around once more before turning to Lucian. She admitted,

"It does feel rather risky. But you are here with me so there's nothing to worry about."

While Ruelle and Lucian remained inside their gallery, Dane had arrived with Lachlan, Oliver and Angelina, climbed the sweeping staircase leading to the upper galleries. Angelina split up from her cousin by taking another private gallery with Oliver right behind her. Lachlan followed Dane into the gallery that was assigned before taking a seat on one end and the door closed.

Lachlan glanced at the pocket watch tucked into his sleeve and he calculated. It shouldn't be more than five to ten minutes before others arrived, he thought to himself.

When the refreshments were brought in, Lachlan picked up a fork but made no move to take any of the fruit. Dane sat at the opposite end of the couch, his posture effortless, his expression unreadable.

Remembering how Ruelle had been worried yesterday and not liking being the reason for it, Lachlan's lips pressed together. Clearing his throat, he spoke without looking at Dane,

"About what happened yesterday… I thought it needed to be cleared up."

Dane's gaze flicked toward him, cool and detached. "Go ahead."

Lachlan began cautiously, "I want to thank you for treating my injury. But…" He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the fork. "I'd prefer you don't do it again. Neither the help nor… what came after. I don't work like that. Not with the same gender."

Dane tilted his head and replied, "Neither do I."

Lachlan frowned before he turned confused. Then he nodded and said, "I see. It must be my blood, I heard some vampires don't know—"

"I knew exactly what I was doing," Dane replied, his eyes looking at the human with curiosity. Last evening was the first time he had done something like that, yet his curiosity had not been quenched. "How annoying."

Lachlan stared at the pureblooded vampire. If he annoyed him that much, then perhaps he should keep his distance than bite him, he thought to himself.

"Where are you staying after the wedding?" Dane asked, his tone light as he popped a piece of dark chocolate into his mouth as he watched Lachlan from the corner of his eye.

Lachlan internally exhaled, relieved the conversation had shifted away from the awkward subject. He replied, "I'll be heading back north. Already checked the routes and the ship leaves the day after the wedding. Plenty of time to pack and go. It will feel less rushed."

"I see…" Dane hummed, swirling the wine in his glass.

Back at the gallery where Ruelle and Lucian had occupied, she noticed the silence inside the gallery and murmured,

"It's strange. I can barely hear the people in the other galleries. Will we still be able to hear the play?"

"You will hear it," Lucian responded, while his hand moved the glass in a circular motion. "A witch's ability was used when the theatre was built. Small portal pipes were woven into each gallery. They connect directly to the stage, allowing the performers' voices to travel here while keeping the neighbouring rooms muted."

Ruelle's eyes wandered around the walls again.

"You can close the channel by simply pulling the lever here," he turned to the side.

"I am surprised a witch was hired for it," Ruelle stated as the patrons continued to enter.

"Witches have always been employed where convenience outweighs prejudice. Some bargained their abilities in exchange for their freedom, sparing themselves from the hunts," Lucian explained to which Ruelle nodded.

She leaned forward as the candles from the chandeliers were blown out, as if letting them know that the play was going to start soon. The glass of wine was held loosely between Lucian's fingers and when his dark red eyes locked onto hers, he asked,

"Still want to try?" his thumb traced idle circles on the stem of the glass.

Ruelle's pulse fluttered in her throat and she nodded.

Lucian didn't hand her the glass, instead, he lifted it to his own lips, taking a slow sip and then another. The wine stained his lips red, dark as a warning, as he lowered the glass while his gaze never left Ruelle's. Then he leaned in.

She felt her breath catch as his fingers tipped her chin up, his touch firm but gentle. The heat of his body radiated between them, as Lucian let the wine pass from his mouth to hers, a single sip shared between them. The liquid was tart as it slid over her tongue, the taste of it mingling with the heat of Lucian's breath.

As Lucian pulled away to look at her, the wine tasted far more bitter than she had expected, yet it didn't burn her throat or make her grimace. If anything, it barely seemed to affect her.

Before she could dwell on the thought, she felt Lucian's thumb brush across her lower lip. He wiped away the faint trace of wine that lingered there.

"Still want more?"

Ruelle's face burned. "Yes," she answered almost shyly.

Lucian took another drink from the glass, his eyes never leaving Ruelle's and set the glass aside. Cupping her jaw with his other hand, his mouth found hers once more.

This time the flavour unfolded far more richly than before, almost darker and more bitter on Ruelle's tongue. It was warm as it slid down her throat and it took less than three seconds for the liquid to hit her senses.

One drop escaped the corner of her lips, trailing slowly down the curve of her neck.

Lucian's gaze followed its path and without a word, he lowered his head. His lips brushed against her skin, stealing the crimson drop before it could disappear beneath the collar of her dress. It sent a shiver through her entire body, her heart quivering like a plucked string.

"Lucian—" Ruelle's voice was barely a whisper, her fingers tightening on the surface of the couch.

As he drew back from her neck, his voice was low, "I told you it was strong."

When the curtains parted on the stage with the music lifting up in the dome, Lucian pulled away, while leaving Ruelle slightly muddled.

She saw the actors take their positions on the stage, their voices ringing out in the exaggerated cadence. Ruelle sat a little too straight beside Lucian. She could still feel the ghost of Lucian's lips on her skin, the way her breath had hitched.

The sound of a slap echoed on the stage and Ruelle's attention returned to the stage. The woman on the stage looked angry and by the sound of it, she could feel the sting.

"Liar," said the woman, but the nobleman caught her wrist. "You wrote no letters. I buried you a hundred times in my mind!"

"I crossed three borders to return to you. Did you truly think I would let another man claim what is mine?" the nobleman asked her. Leaning into each other, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. "I have come to take you away! I won't let you go."

"You expect me to forgive you with a kiss?" the woman on the stage asked, pushing him away and turning away to leave, but only to be pulled into a hug.

"No. But I will make it up to you," came the nobleman's words.

This one seemed to have a happy ending, Ruelle thought, almost nodding to herself. But only a few minutes had passed since it had begun. Were the lovers going to be torn apart? The last time she was here, the story was a sad one with the man dying.

A gasp from the stage snapped her back to the present.

When the nobleman's mouth trailed lower as he undid the woman's corset, pressing his mouth to the woman's bosom, Ruelle's eyes widened.

Without realising it, she had drifted closer to the glass. Her eyes wandered to the audience below, only to find several couples paying far less attention to the stage than to each other. One woman was seated between a man's legs, her head hidden behind the coat spread on his lap. She immediately looked back at the stage.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at the shameless cries rising from the stage. Unable to help herself, she looked to Lucian. He hadn't moved or reacted, his face was as tranquil as still water. Before his gaze turned to her, she quickly looked at the stage.

Ruelle quietly closed her eyes.

The more she thought about it, the more foolish she felt. She had been the one to insist that everyone come to the theatre. What must Lucian have thought of her now? She couldn't help but wonder if Hailey was sitting through the same awkwardness somewhere else in the theatre.

At first, she had wanted to sink into the floor.

The wine hummed gently in her veins, dulling her fluster and replacing it with curiosity.

When her initial shock began to fade, she found herself continuing to watch the nobleman's hands trailed lower between the woman's legs and the actress's fingers tangled in his hair. Her breath quickened.

It made her own skin prickle with something warm and unfamiliar. She was still aware of Lucian sitting beside her with one arm draped casually over the back of the couch.

"AH!"

Ruelle's pulse jumped when the actress let out a sharp cry.

Soon one garment after another dropped and this included the intimates, while Ruelle's lashes fluttered shut for a moment, and then her eyes opened again.

Lucian, who had his back against the velvet couch, his dark eyes half-lidded as he watched Ruelle from the corner of his vision.

Her lips were still slightly parted from their last kiss. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink with every gasp that left the front stage. Lucian's own body hummed in response, his blood heating at the sight of her so innocent and yet so captivated.