Chapter 55: Not so gentle

Ruelle blinked at him. The pitter-patter of rain now faded into silence. She blurted out,

“You hate humans.”

Lucian didn’t deny it. “I do.” His voice was smooth, effortless. A truth so straightforward, so absolute, that it required no further explanation.

She watched as he sauntered to his desk, picked up the lit candle, and dragged the chair toward the bed. The soft scrape of wood against the floor filled the silence. He placed the candle atop the seat.

When he turned back to her, she murmured to herself in confusion, “But you helping me…”

A faint smirk ghosted across his lips before disappearing. “What better way to spend an evening than stabbing a human’s ears?” The words were casual, as if they held no real weight. He closed the distance between them, his tone bored. “It might quench the rage. Don’t mistake it for anything else.”

Ruelle hesitated. “You don’t have to—”

Lucian cut her off by plucking the needle from her grasp with effortless precision. His gaze flicked over her face—assessing, calculating—before turning away. He walked toward the bed and sat down, tapping his hand against the beige bedspread.

“Are you going to let me do this,” he drawled, red eyes glinting, “or waste the entire night standing there?”

She wasn’t sure if she should accept his help, but the thought of struggling with the needle herself was far worse. She murmured, “Okay.”

Walking to the bed, Ruelle carefully perched on it, keeping enough distance between them that she had to lean forward slightly for him to reach her.

Lucian didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, he reached for a small vial on the chair, uncorking it with practiced ease. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the air as he poured the liquid over the needle. Without pause, he held the metal over the flickering flame.

Ruelle watched the metal glow under the orange light made her stomach twist. Desperate for distraction, she forced herself to speak.

“You might not be first this time.”

“Hm?” Lucian didn’t look away from the needle.

“The class ranking,” she clarified. “Because you missed a test, you might not place at the top this time.”

Lucian finally flicked his gaze to her. The weight of it was unsettling, unreadable. Then, just as quickly, he looked away.

“I already wrote it the previous day,” he replied, twirling the needle between his fingers.

Three tests in a day? Ruelle asked herself. It must be nothing to him.

Lucian gestured toward her.

She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. Pushing her hair behind her ear, she exposed the soft curve of her earlobe. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and when Lucian lifted the needle, she noticed his hands—long fingers, elegant yet strong. The kind of hands bred for precision.

She had never paid much attention to his features up close, but now, in the candlelight, she could see the details. His dark, tousled hair framed his face in careless waves, some strands falling across his dark eyebrows, which was effortlessly intimidating. His jaw was defined along with the slant of his cheekbones.

Then suddenly she noticed the glowing needle approaching. The moment it neared her earlobe, she felt its heat and—without thinking—she jerked away.

Lucian stared at her.

“I wasn’t prepared,” Ruelle admitted sheepishly, her brown eyes meeting his eyes.

Lucian didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Again, he lowered the needle toward her. Again, she flinched. This time, her head spun slightly, a flash of lightheadedness creeping in.

Then—without a word—he set the needle down.

“You look pale,” his voice was lazily unimpressed, studying her for a long moment. Her lips parted, ready to deny it. “I wonder how you’d handle a bee sting,” he mused idly.

“I don’t think there’s bee stings in Seduction Techniques class,” Ruelle responded to his words with a frown.

“You know, you’ll fail when it comes to practicals,” Lucian stated abruptly.

“Because of the needle?” she asked him.

Lucian leaned back, assessing her with that familiar cool detachment. “You’re afraid of a tiny prick, yet you’re in a class that demands much more than this. Or in an establishment that will leave bruises.”

Ruelle wondered if he looked at her as a weak thing now. She replied, “I’m not afraid. It’s just needles… And I’m doing fine in class.”

His lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smirk.

“Seduction goes beyond textbook lines, Belmont. It’s about how you react.” His voice dropped a fraction lower, almost thoughtful. “And right now? You’re a disaster.”

He let the words settle between them before adding, “You should drop the subject and focus on the other ones.”

“I can’t afford to skip it,” Ruelle countered. “I am a Groundling, who needs to keep her ground.”

Lucian arched a brow, something close to amusement flickering in his gaze. He then remarked, “Let’s see how well you hold your ground, then.”

Before she could react, he leaned in, lifting his hand. His fingers ghosted against her ear, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind it. His touch was light—barely there—but it sent a sharp shiver down her spine.

“You should mentally prepare yourself,” Lucian murmured, his voice dipping lower. “The beginning of first-year lessons are tame compared to what comes later.”

Her stomach twisted at the possibilities. “Like what?” she whispered.

Lucian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before she could react, a sudden, sharp pinch shot through her ear, and she gasped. It was quick for her to process. But there was no heat, no drawn-out agony she had been bracing for.

As he pulled back, she noticed a faint red stain on his lips, which he casually wiped away with his thumb.

Ruelle’s fingers flew to her ear. “You—!” He bit her ear! A flush of heat rose up her neck as no man had ever dared to touch her like that.

“You’re welcome,” Lucian murmured. He picked up the needle again and asked, “Ready this time?”

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