Though Renard tried to appear calm and poised, it was obvious he was furious. His jaw tightened as he glared at Dane and he demanded in a low, strained voice,

“Do you have the slightest idea what wounding a human entails?”

“Of course,” Dane replied pleasantly, tilting his head as though surprised the question even needed asking. “Drawing blood. And I did.”

Angelina had walked towards Oliver. When she pulled the needle out, a drop of blood dripped down and she leaned forward to lick it clean. The vampiress then announced,

“It looks the hunt has finally come to an end. Oliver and I will be going ahead. Congratulations, Dane and Ruelle.”

“Thanks, cousin,” Dane chirped back.

“You Slater and Ravencroft colluded,” Renard snapped in annoyance.

Dane’s lips curved softly, almost foxlike as if he was enjoying himself. He feigned innocence, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

When Renard’s eyes fell on Ruelle she jolted from the adrenaline fog clinging to her. The arrow in Renard’s collarbone gleamed under the rays of sun, and the sight made her breath falter. She couldn’t believe how perfect the shot was, especially when she had missed so poorly before.

She could tell this pureblooded vampire wanted to drain her blood and her grip on the crossbow tightened. She had made an enemy and alarm bell rang in the back of her mind.

“There’s no need to glare at Ruelle for your shortcomings,” Dane remarked, before adding, “I trust you’re not planning to embarrass yourself by attacking Ruelle. That would put you on our bad side and surely you don’t want that.”

And though Dane smiled, the warning behind his words was clear. Renard seemed to want to ignore the warning for a moment, but after a tense beat, he turned with a bitter swirl of his coat and disappeared through the trees.

Only when the sound of footsteps faded did Ruelle finally release her breath. The realisation that she had actually shot a pureblood landed like a physical blow.

Dane turned to her with a brighter smile with the corners of his eyes crinkling as he declared, “I’m very proud of you, Ruelle. I knew you could do it! I hope you didn’t hurt yourself,” he gave her a quick scan.

“I’m fine,” she managed, though her voice wavered. “You?”

Dane’s eyes softened, which wasn’t entirely expected from someone who had just threatened another pureblood with deadly sweetness.

“Perfectly unscathed. But thank you for asking,” he replied before a pause. “I believe this calls for celebration.”

Ruelle’s eyes widened and she shook her head. She blurted as they began to walk, “There is nothing to celebrate.” A small laugh escaped from her lips, because she didn’t want to end up in another hunt again.

“There’s no need to be modest about it,” Dane gave her a pat on the back which was far too enthusiastic that she nearly stumbled a little. Did he forget she was a human? She heard him ask, “Is there anything you want? A reward if not a celebration.”

“There’s nothing I need,” she replied politely. “Really.”

“If you won’t pick a reward,” Dane said, clasping his hands behind his back, “then I will. Let us go into town later. That’s decided.”

When Ruelle and Dane reached the edge of the forest, the first thing her eyes did was search for Lucian. But he was nowhere to be seen. Before she could dwell on the woman he had dragged away earlier, the guests swept towards them.

“Another win for the Slaters!” One of the guests raised her glass.

“Did you have fun in there, Ruelle?” Sawyer asked as she stepped away from Dane’s side.

“I don’t know if I would categorise it as fun,” Ruelle replied honestly.

Sawyer laughed, relieved. “Well, it is good to see you survived. Maybe next time we should let the humans hunt the vampires. What do you think?”

Ruelle doubted it would change anything. Her eyes drifted over the crowd again and this time she caught Lady Maxine watching her. She offered a slight bow to the woman, and the lady gave a nod. Soon she excused herself and returned to the room.

Once the door clicked shut, the exhaustion hit her in one heavy wave. All she wanted was to fall face-first onto the mattress. But her dress was streaked with dirt and her shoes were worse, she couldn’t bring herself to stain the clean sheets.

So she lowered herself to the floor instead. The floor felt cool beneath her back, and she let her aching body rest against it. A faint ache throbbed along her legs and her arms felt heavy.

“I can’t believe it is finally over,” she muttered to herself while looking at the ceiling. “Mr. Jinxy would be proud and pass me for this entire year if he was here.”

And when she closed her eyes, images of the unconscious woman flickered behind her eyelids. She did not know how long she remained like that until a shadow fell over her and her eyes opened.

She blinked at the sight of Maude looming above her with an obvious look of disapproval marring her slightly wrinkled face. She quickly sat upright before standing up.

“Is the bed not comfortable, Miss Ruelle?” Maude asked her, as if she genuinely couldn’t decide why Ruelle had chosen to lie on the floor like a starfish. “I can arrange another room.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Ruelle answered. “I just didn’t want to dirty the bed. I didn’t hear you enter the room…”

“Apologies. I knocked on the door but there was no answer,” Maude answered her. Then with a brief glance at the floor, she added, “You don’t have to worry about the sheets being dirtied. They can always be replaced so it would be better if you didn’t choose the floor rather than the bed.”

A warm flush crept up Ruelle’s face. She knew well enough that in a household like this, someone would come and clean whatever mess she would make. Even so, she had been trying not to create more work for anyone.

“You can undress. I will draw your bath,” Maude informed her, before making her way to the bathtub and running the water a little warm. She continued, “When people run through a forest, they usually come back covered in half of it.”

Ruelle undid her dress, though the chemise petticoat stayed as she watched the water fill and waited for Maude to leave.

“You have very strange ways, Miss Ruelle,” Maude frowned. “Are you planning to bathe in that?”

It was then that Ruelle realised Maude was going to help her bathe. She said, “Please don’t trouble yourself. I can manage on my own.”

“I am well aware of it. But you look as though a strong breeze might knock you unconscious right now,” the older woman replied with her tone as dry as old parchment. “If you fall asleep in the bath it would be unfortunate. The young master will not appreciate retrieving a drowned human.”

Ruelle let out a small laugh and said, “I won’t drown.”

“You nearly fell asleep on the floor,” Maude reminded her. That was true, thought Ruelle.

Without another word, she removed the rest of her clothes before stepping inside the bathtub and then sat down.

Maude moved behind Ruelle and poured warm water over Ruelle’s hair. The water felt good. The woman’s hands were firm but careful as she worked the lather into Ruelle’s tangled hair.

Ruelle closed her eyes for a moment as she breathed in the faint scent of rose and something else. Maybe she was going to fall asleep in the bathtub, she thought to herself. Opening her eyes, she asked,

“Maude, if I may ask. How long have you been working for the Slaters?”

“A long while,” Maude replied plainly, while her hands didn’t pause. “Long before the young masters were born.”

“Before both of them?” Ruelle’s eyebrows raised. That meant the woman had seen Lucian when he was a little boy and she smiled, wondering if he had been the same then as he was now.

“Yes,” Maude answered, rinsing the soap from the young woman’s shoulders as she poured water on them. “I served the household since Lord Slater’s youth.”

That was far longer than she had imagined, thought Ruelle to herself. She heard the woman continue to speak,

“My father had served Lord Slater’s father. My family has kept this house in order for as long as the records allow,” there was a hint of pride in the woman’s stoic voice.

Once Ruelle was bathed, the older woman wrapped a towel firmly around her shoulders before taking another to rub the dampness from her hair. She murmured,

“I can manage the rest.”

“I will fetch fresh clothes. One moment,” Maude replied, already stepping out with her usual efficient stride.

She returned shortly, carrying a light blue dress folded neatly over her arms.

“Does the mansion keep spare clothes for every guest who forgets to bring theirs…?” The words slipped out before Ruelle could stop them, and colour rushed to her cheeks. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to assume.”

“These were prepared by the late Lady Irina,” Maude responded.

Lady Irina Slater the former lady of the house? That meant even the dress she had worn the previous night, was that created by her as well? She pressed her lips together before asking quietly,

“Is it… proper for me to wear it?” It wasn’t her pride but uncertainty. Ruelle’s own clothes were simple, worn, and not fit for gatherings in a noble house, but they were hers. She had never wished to intrude on someone else’s things.

Maude seemed to regard Ruelle in a long moment of silence, as though weighing something. At last the vampiress said,

“The dresses are meant to be used. You don’t have to worry about it being inappropriate.” After a brief pause, she added, “Lady Irina would have been pleased to know they are worn, rather than left forgotten in the cupboards.”

If Maude put it like that…

Ruelle slipped into the dress. The fabric hugged her frame softly as Maude stepped behind her, drawing the laces before tying them into a neat bow that rested at her lower back. The dress was lovely, far lovelier than anything she owned.

“It suits you well, Miss Ruelle. They were made with good intentions,” Maude spoke in the same dead toned voice.

“I’m sure they were. She had good taste in clothes,” Ruelle replied with a soft smile on her lips.

“You are right. She did,” Maude agreed, her face composed. She then informed, “I will send a maid to arrange your hair once it is dried.”

“That’s alright. I can tie it myself.” Ruelle was grateful for all the help already, and Maude gave a short, accepting nod. But just as the older woman turned to leave, Ruelle stopped her. “Wait—Do you know where Lucian is?”

“I have not seen the young master since this morning,” Maude answered. “Shall I send word that you are looking for him?”

“No, that’s fine. I was only curious,” Ruelle replied quickly. She bowed her head in thanks and Maude responded with a bow before stepping out of the room.

Left alone, Ruelle crossed the room to where her trunk sat and knelt beside it. She lifted the lid and went through her belongings. A soft mutter escaped her lips,

“So the woman was indeed wearing my dress.”

Lucian had chosen the patched dress she wore as a nightdress. She exhaled softly, torn between a quiet laugh and the thought that she was now one dress short.

She wondered where he was right now…

Not far away from the Slater’s mansion, in the property that belonged to the family, stood a barn. Its surroundings were clean with lush flowers, unlike the gory details that took place inside it.

In one chair, Lucian sat with his legs crossed, reading a book in his hand, looking unbothered by the blonde woman who was slumped in the chair across from him. Her wrists were bound to the armrest, nails driven through each palm. Her head had drooped forward.

He tapped a finger idly against the book.

“Your heartbeat is getting steadier,” Lucian noted calmly. “That means your consciousness has returned.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep