Ruelle’s heart continued to beat loudly in her chest as she met Lucian’s dark red eyes that were too calm in contrast to the man groaning behind her. To think she had earlier hoped not to run into a dangerous vampire, forgetting that the ones she had grown accustomed to sat far higher on the ladder of predators.

And though deep down she had already known, her lips still parted, trembling as she said, “T–There’s an injured man.”

“I know,” came the cool and collected voice of Lucian. His gaze shifted past her briefly, assessing something behind her, while her own eyes drifted away from his lethal face and noticed the drops of blood splattered on his collar and sleeves, along with his gloves.

She then heard him exhale slowly, the sound restrained rather than weary. He asked her, “Weren’t you supposed to head home?”

Ruelle found it difficult to pay attention to him with the person behind her bleeding and groaning in pain.

“I—the tailor wanted to take my measurements and I stayed behind,” she explained, her voice unsteady. “Mr. S said you would collect me…”

Lucian’s hand suddenly shot towards her, pulling her in his direction. Her breath hitched briefly as they switched positions. He remarked dryly, “My brother appears to believe I possess a talent for sensing where you wander.”

When Ruelle looked down, she caught the man trying to crawl closer than she had noticed earlier. She swallowed and asked, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat,

“Why did you do that to him?”

There was no reason to ask if he had done it when the signs were clear. Ruelle had seen Lucian fight before. She knew well enough that if he wished, he could have ended the man’s life instantly. Instead, he had chosen something cruel, something that would last a lifetime.

“Because he earned it,” Lucian replied, his tone detached. When he turned away from her, there was a faint tension in the line of his shoulders as though he hadn’t imagined her to witness this scene.

He crouched before the bleeding human with controlled ease.

The man screamed when Lucian bent two of the man’s fingers backwards. The sound was sharp and ugly, making Ruelle flinch. There was no one to witness the man’s pain except for the two of them.

“Did winning the hunt make you think you were suddenly invincible,” Lucian asked calmly, “that you thought this was a clever hour to wander through town?” His question was not rude but it carried a tinge of displeasure in it.

“No…” Ruelle winced as another finger snapped. “I was looking for you. I thought you were there.”

Lucian didn’t answer but for a fraction of a second, the pressure on the man’s hand eased as though her words had intruded where they weren’t meant to before he broke the last finger.

The man collapsed into incoherent sounds. All that time, Ruelle stood frozen, realising that making Lucian an enemy was a fate worse than death. She then mustered courage, asking softly,

“Why?”

When Lucian finally straightened, he turned to her with his gaze searching her face. He caught the fear dancing in her eyes, her lips trembling. His lips set in a thin line.

“Why?” he repeated, his head tilting slightly. “Are you wondering whether you should be afraid to sleep under the same roof as the bloodthirsty monster who hunts down humans?”

Ruelle shook her head and tried to hold her voice, “You must have had a reason… and technically, we all sleep under the same roof at Sexton.”

Lucian’s gaze sharpened at her deflection. He finally spoke after a brief silence, “Over the years, some of the pureblooded households have been erased entirely because of people like him. Killing people who have nothing to do with what they believe. If I left them breathing, they would come for everything connected to my family. And death is too kind.”

She followed his line of sight when he looked into the dark alley which was covered in shadows. And then it hit her. There were others that she couldn’t see, weren’t they? She heard him ask,

“Does that answer your question?”

She nodded, though the fear beneath her skin didn’t stop. She had never seen anything like this before and she wondered how Lucian had learned to stand so calmly in the presence of it.

Had he seen his mother die before him?

It had been twelve years since the conflict had ended, but its marks had never faded. Humans now shrank from vampires, while some vampires despised humans in return because it was told that the humans were the ones who had started it in an attempt to eradicate the night creatures.

“Come,” he said, already turning away.

“What about him…?”

Lucian paused just briefly. He replied, “Someone will remove what’s left. You don’t need to be here.”

They finally began to walk down the street and away from the man, who continued to groan and whimper on the ground as if he wanted to be shown mercy, but the pureblooded vampire had none left to give. Soon the sounds from the alley faded, swallowed by distance.

The walk was quiet, save for a carriage that passed by them, with the sound of its wheels fading after a few seconds. Ruelle kept her gaze fixed ahead, aware of Lucian’s presence beside her.

Lucian slowed near Mr. Carcas’s shop and informed her, “I need to collect something.”

Ruelle followed him inside. The shop was already being closed for the day, bundles of fabric carefully covered, lanterns dimmed. Mr. Carcas, who pushed the counter drawer close, turned at the sound of the door.

“It appears the Miss found you after all, Master Slater,” the man said pleasantly. “Your order is ready.” He retrieved a small, neatly wrapped parcel from the side table and handed it to Lucian. The pureblooded vampire looked at it briefly. The shopkeeper stated, “The colour and the material are exactly as you asked. Down to the weave.”

Lucian reached into his coat and produced a small leather pouch, placing it into Mr. Carcas’ waiting palm. The soft jingle of coins followed.

“Thank you,” Lucian said.

“Always,” Mr. Carcas replied with a respectful bow. Then his attention shifted to Ruelle and he bowed his head. “Miss Belmont, have a good night.”

She returned the bow, her eyes briefly flicking to the parcel in Lucian’s hand before she straightened.

Ruelle was the first to step outside the shop. Lucian paused briefly behind her, pulling off his bloodied gloves and dropping them into the bin by the wall before he followed her out.

They stood next to the lamp post, with the lantern hanging on it gently swaying.

She could feel his gaze on her and she tried hard to ignore it. Softly swallowing, her brown eyes finally moved to look at him where his face was mostly hidden by shadow and she heard him remark,

“You look unwell,” his voice didn’t raise or soften.

“Do I?” She asked, and she subconsciously touched the side of her face. She murmured, “It must be the weather.”

Lucian didn’t comment on that. Instead, he extended the small package towards her. “Here.”

Ruelle’s eyebrows drew together as she asked, “What is this?”

“Hush money for what you saw earlier,” he replied. For a moment, she thought he was serious until he added, “My brother has given his share. I am giving mine for upholding the Slaters’ name.”

“You didn’t have to…” Ruelle said, as a gown was already in preparation for her. “If you hadn’t helped me, I wouldn’t have won it.”

“True,” Lucian agreed, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I can wait for the return gift.”

She blinked and then asked him, “What happened to gifts turning into expectations? You said that earlier.”

Lucian regarded her for a moment before replying, “They do. Which is why I’m telling you in advance. Take it.”

She accepted, feeling the package lighter than she expected. Curious, she asked, “Can I open it?”

“It’s yours,” came his nonchalant words, already turning his gaze toward the street. “Do what you want.”

Ruelle wondered if it was a handkerchief, and she dipped her hand inside to feel something soft. She then pulled out a dark, woollen scarf. The wool’s texture was finer than she had ever possessed, as if it was made to last many years. On a closer look with the lantern light falling, she noticed it wasn’t black but a deep charcoal colour.

She had been wishing for something warm and here it was in her hands. She looked back at him and murmured softly,

“Thank you. I will take good care of it.”

Ruelle turned the scarf over in her hands, and after a moment’s hesitation, she lifted it to her neck and looped it loosely, letting the ends fall unevenly. She adjusted it once and then again.

Lucian watched her in silence.

The scarf hung loose around her neck, the knot careless, the fabric shifting with every breath she took. The wind slipped beneath it easily, brushing her exposed skin and the fine hairs at her nape lifted from the cold.

“That won’t keep the cold out,” he remarked, his eyes slightly constricting.

Ruelle’s fingers paused mid-adjustment and replied, “Let me fix it.” She glanced down and tried to fix it, but it didn’t make much difference.

Lucian’s eyes lingered on the gap at her neck for a moment longer than necessary and he then instructed, “Don’t.”

He stepped closer, close enough that the cold between them paused as he reached for the scarf. His steady hands picked the fabric higher, settling it properly against her neck. He crossed it once and then tugged it snug before knotting it neatly beneath her chin. The motion was clean as though he had done it many times before. He said,

“Always carry your scarf with you. You don’t need to leave your neck exposed at night.”

He then released his hold on the scarf and stepped back, his expression already distant again.

“Thank you,” Ruelle whispered, already feeling warm and she was grateful.

One would never doubt that Lucian’s hands were covered in blood a few minutes ago, considering how unbothered he looked right now. Her thoughts lingered on the violence that she had witnessed.

“Staring is rude,” Lucian remarked without looking at her. “Something on your mind?”

Ruelle pursed her lips and then said, “I thought one couldn’t get a job until they finished their time in Sexton.”

“What makes you say that?” Lucian slipped his hands in his trouser pockets.

“If someone is going to take the men away from there… it must be by someone who works in the higher place,” Ruelle reasoned quietly. “So you must be working already…”

“How perceptive,” Lucian hummed, and then continued, “You are right and also wrong. Wrong because Elites and Halflings of Sexton are expected to complete the assigned years. Only some of them who come from the royal families are spared time to time. But yes, I do have a job.”

“How come?” Ruelle asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“They liked my skills,” Lucian answered, while a faint flicker of amusement crossed his face, as though the idea itself had briefly amused him.

When Ruelle’s stomach growled, she cleared her throat, feeling mortified. She wondered if Lucian heard, but seeing how he didn’t comment on it, she let out her breath. After a second, she heard him say,

“There’s a bakery not far from here.”

Ruelle followed his line of sight down the street but most of the lanterns were already dimmed and shutters drawn.

Before she could point it out, Lucian had already started walking. She quickly tried to catch up to him. The scarf warmly brushed against her neck as she moved, and without her notice the pureblooded vampire adjusted his pace just enough so that she wouldn’t have to rush.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep