Chapter 134: Crossing lines

Ruelle glanced down at the bandage wrapped around her, fingers still resting where she had just secured it.

“But… Lucian, the bandages will get wet,” she said, turning her head slightly over her shoulder.

He had already taken a few steps away, his back to her, when he paused.

“I meant for myself,” Lucian corrected, his voice steady despite the faint tension in it.

“Oh, okay.” Ruelle watched as Lucian moved around the wooden divider and turned the faucet. The faint rush of water filled the room before he reappeared.

Now that she thought of it, she had never once seen him make use of the bath. In the beginning of her stay, she had thought to step out whenever he needed the bath, yet each time she woke, he was already gone.

The thought barely settled when Lucian’s shirt slipped from his shoulders, the fabric loosening, before falling soundlessly to the floor. Her gaze traced the breadth of his shoulders before following the slow narrowing of his frame to his waist.

She felt guilty when her eyes caught the red lines she had made on him.

“Careful,” Lucian remarked, his voice low. “Keep looking at me like that, and I may forget why you’re dressed at all.”

Having been caught red-handed, she didn’t deny his accusation. She asked softly, “Won’t the water be freezing at this hour?”

“It is. I need it colder than that,” Lucian replied. His gaze lowered slowly along the outer line of her bare back before lifting to her again. As if measuring something in her silence, he asked, “Are you cold?”

Ruelle shook her head. With the way he was watching her, it felt quite the opposite, she thought to herself. He watched her a moment longer, as if considering something.

“I will keep the water shallow. You can join me,” Lucian offered with a straight face that one would have thought he was speaking about the weather.

“We wouldn’t fit together there,” Ruelle blurted the first thing that passed her mind. Blood rose to her cheeks as she realised what left her lips and she bit the inside of her cheek.

Lucian’s gaze sharpened on her instantly. He then said, “You’d be surprised.”

Heat sank deeper beneath her skin the longer he looked at her. And for a fleeting moment, a strange ache formed beneath her skin.

“P–please forget I said that.” She closed her eyes as though that might undo her folly. Bury me now, she thought to herself. She was far too aware of him.

Lucian stood there for a second before he picked up his clothes and stepped behind the wooden divider, leaving her breathless.

Foolish, she scolded herself as she made her way to the trunk of her clothes.

On the other side of the divider, Lucian stepped into the bath. The cold water rose around him as he lowered himself beneath the surface and for a moment, there was only silence before he emerged.

Water slid along the sharp lines of his face as his hand passed through his hair, pushing the dark strands back. Drops of water gathered at his jaw before tracing the length of his neck and shoulders, disappearing beneath the surface once more.

His eyes remained closed for a second longer before they opened, the darkness in them no longer held back.

The scent of Ruelle’s blood lingered in the air and the edge of his fang cut his tongue. He welcomed the taste of his own blood to steady what threatened to turn elsewhere.

When he turned to close the faucet, his eyes picked up the movement and he caught Ruelle through the narrow gap of the divider. Just in time her dress slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet, making his hand that rested on the edge of the bathtub tighten.

He turned and exhaled, murmuring, “Still not cold enough.”

On the warmer side of the room, Ruelle had just pulled the nightgown over her head and the fabric slipped past her shoulders and settled against her skin. She walked to the bed and sat at the edge of it.

It felt like the calm after a storm. Though since she had set foot in Sexton, storms seemed to be one of the recurring things for the groundlings. Her thought went to what Bowen had said back in the den and she turned anxious.

She wondered who all would end up bidding on her. And at that thought, her eyes moved to look at the window where darkness settled beyond it.

Far from Sexton, a carriage rolled past the abandoned mansion when a brightness flickered through its broken windows and smoke escaped. The passengers were three instructors who were returning after a late drink at the common inn when the light caught their attention.

“Is there a celebration going on in there?” Mr. Savantique leaned forward while squinting through the glass to get a better look.

Dane’s eyes moved lazily toward the window and he murmured, “How festive to have a bonfire inside.”

“That is not a bonfire,” Gemma said as her eyebrows furrowed. “Someone set the mansion on fire.” Hearing this, Mr. Savantique straightened at once and knocked on the carriage wall. He called, “Jermey. To the mansion. Quickly!”

Upon arriving, they caught sight of two carriages still standing.

“Let us hope they haven’t turned any humans. The last time was disastrous,” the potion instructor huffed as they stepped inside.

“Instructors—” one of the Halfling students said quickly, relief flooding his face. He carried a bucket of water in his hand, which he had drawn from the well.

“What have you and others been doing? This property is under Sexton’s care,” Mr. Savantique demanded. “Where are the rest?”

“There are three of them. Two are in the Den and one on the first floor. The rest left right away,” informed the Halfling, following them.

“I’ll see the one upstairs,” Gemma stated, already moving, her heels striking sharply against the floor as she disappeared toward the staircase.

By now the fire should have quietened down, but one of the students had ended up knocking the trolley of liquor bottles right into the flaming room. Mr. Savantique and Dane continued toward the den, the Halfling following close behind.

Once the fire was completely put out, Mr. Savantique crouched beside Orpheus, who lay unconscious with blood smeared along the side of his head. He checked his pulse, then sighed.

“Seriously,” he muttered, “what sport were you all playing here? And to burn things around?”

“Well, someone clearly felt cold,” Dane murmured as he walked across the room where Bowen lay groaning, clutching his side. His shirt was soaked through, and the wound along his ribs was deep enough to expose flesh.

“More like pissed…” the Halfling muttered.

Curious, Dane asked, “What did he do to earn it?” glancing briefly at the Halfling.

“T–that, Orpheus grabbed Lucian’s roommate… and Bowen tried to drink from her.”

“Lucian Slater?” Mr. Savantique asked, raising his eyebrows. He then turned to Dane. “I thought you were a menace back in the day of your student life, but your brother surpasses it. Yesterday in class he was breaking test tubes and beakers.”

Dane took it as a compliment as a grin touched his lips. He said,

“A little fire here and there shouldn’t be a problem. And we all know Sexton allows everyone to have their fun, so the responsibility falls back on the students for how they thrive in this environment.”

Dane smiled faintly, not offended in the slightest. He remarked, “Sexton prides itself on practical education and Lucian does like to give the best.”

Mr. Savantique sighed and lifted Orpheus over his shoulder. “I’ll take this one to the carriage. He should recover once he wakes.”

As the older instructor left, Dane turned back to Bowen. He then rose to his feet and said, “Let’s have him taken back to Sexton.”

As if ready to grab Bowen, the pureblooded vampire bent as if to pick the person up when his fingers pressed into the wound. This had Bowen jolt awake with a cry of pain. The injured vampire groaned, now fully conscious but in too much pain to speak.

Dane apologised with a smile, “My apologies. Everything is so bloody, it’s difficult to tell where one should and shouldn’t touch.” He then patted the wound, making the halfling wince. “I will be careful.”

Back in Sexton, Ruelle sat on the edge of her bed, gently massaging the hand Bowen had squeezed earlier that evening. The bones still ached when she moved her fingers, but nothing seemed broken. She supposed she was fortunate considering how some others’ evening went by.

She was fortunate for something else too. Neither she nor her friends had been made to attend the vampires’ soiree in the past. If they had, she doubted she would have had the courage to ask for Lucian’s help. Or if he would be willing to help.

But then she remembered the night when he had opened the cupboard when Alanna and her minions had locked her in it. Her fingers slowed, her gaze resting on her hands.

Even in her own home, affection wasn’t given to her. She had long accepted that she was not someone people looked at twice, not someone people went out of their way for.

And yet Lucian had.

She did not know when it had changed, or why. She did not know what he saw when he looked at her. The thought lingered with her before she flexed her fingers again and felt the dull ache return.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted when she heard a knock on the door. Upon opening the door, she caught sight of a servant, who held a trolley of food before him. She could already smell the fragrance and next to it was a large pitcher of… freshly squeezed blood.

Considering neither Lucian nor she had pulled the calling bell, she wondered if it was Claude, who had been informed about their dinner to be brought to the room.

“Good evening, Miss. Is this the right time for the meal?” the servant asked, while he stared at the young woman before him.

“It is. Please come in,” Ruelle replied politely before stepping away from the door.

Soon the trolley was pushed into the room and stopped next to the table. When he started to set the table, Ruelle out of habit picked up the napkin.

“You don’t have to bother yourself with it. I will have everything placed,” the servant man let her know. “It is my work.”

But Ruelle didn’t heed the person’s words and she picked up the food that was brought. She said, “It is no hassle at all.” When she caught sight of melted chocolate in a bowl, she asked, “Is there no milk for the chocolate to go with?”

“It does with the strawberries,” Daniel answered, while glancing at the freshly picked berries, “You dip the fruit in the chocolate and eat. It is a winter delicacy here.”

What strange combination, thought Ruelle to herself before she gave him a nod.

“But if you want to have milk, I shall have it bought soon,” Daniel added and she quickly shook her head.

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you though,” Ruelle responded to his kind thought even though she knew it was his job.

“Okay. Ring the bell if you need anything else. I will be awake,” he added, giving a bow and stepping out of the room. The door softly clicked behind him.

After straightening the spoons and absently folding the napkin into a shape that refused to hold, Ruelle stood by the table, waiting for Lucian. An icy drop of water fell on the side of her neck and she drew in a small breath when it slipped beneath her dress and trailed along her skin.

When she turned, Lucian was standing right behind her, already dressed, his dark hair still wet from the bath.

“Don’t wait for me. Everything except the blood is yours,” Lucian said, pulling the chair backwards. “Sit.”

Ruelle sat down, watching Lucian take the chair across from her. She had barely taken two bites when she noticed the pitcher beside him was already half empty.

She took another bite of her food when she noticed him pouring himself another glass of blood.

“Why didn’t you take a sip?” she asked quietly. “I was bleeding…” It was clear to Ruelle that he was thirsty. She wondered if he simply preferred not to drink from a wound.

“You are injured and in enough pain already,” Lucian replied, taking a sip of the blood.

Ruelle’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “And you weren’t?” she asked. She hadn’t considered how difficult it would be for him with her blood dripping. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before she spoke, “Don’t you think it would be better…if you chose someone else? Someone who would cause you less trouble.”

Lucian did not answer immediately. His eyes remained on her, steady, as if weighing something she could not see.

Ruelle let go of the spoon and picked up a strawberry, dipping it into the melted chocolate more for something to do with her hands than out of hunger.

“The man earlier said to dip—” she began, her voice trailing into chatter.

“What is better in your eyes, Ruelle?” Lucian asked calmly. She looked up at him. “Apart from wealth. Or the way trouble seems to find you wherever you go. Or that you are kind to a fault. Or perhaps it is that you are a human that is fragile?”

“…you listed the main ones,” Ruelle murmured under her breath.

Lucian’s lips twitched faintly. He responded, “Most people take what is within reach. And the ones higher up are usually left alone long enough to become worth the climb.”

Ruelle gave a small nod before lowering her eyes and taking a bite of the strawberry coated in chocolate when a look of surprise passed her features. She then ate the rest of it before saying,

“I didn’t know this could taste so good. Lucian, you should try some too,” sounding almost pleased with the discovery.

But instead of reaching for another strawberry from the pile, Lucian reached for her hand.

The movement was so sudden that Ruelle didn’t realise what he was doing until her fingers were in his grasp. He brought her hand toward him without breaking eye contact, and before she could react, his tongue ran slowly along her finger, gathering the melted chocolate and the trace of strawberry that was left behind.

Her cheeks were quick to turn as red as the fruit she swallowed.

Lucian released her hand only after a moment, his gaze still on her as he said, “If you offer, I will take, Ruelle.”

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PS: Lucian’s picture in main comment ^.^

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