Did Lord Fashire just call this royal his brother?
The heavy silence in the air seemed to thicken and the flames flickered back to their pits. Only the crackling fire broke the stillness.
The approaching royal stopped in his tracks at Lord Fashire's words and his lips spread out in an eager smile. A thirsty hunger lit up in his eyes as they landed on me again.
'Why does he keep doing that?!'
My skin crawled.
The burly royal threw his head back and emitted a booming laugh. His lips curved into a wicked smile as he wiped away the remnants of blood from his now healed jaw. "Well, look at that. You lowly—"
"Did you forget my warning?" Lord Fashire's lips twisted into a disgusted sneer and his steely eyes narrowed into treacherous slits.
Suddenly, a burst of searing heat erupted from Lord Fashire's frame, surging into my body. The heat slammed into me and everything went dark
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The aroma of food wafted through the air, stirring my senses. My fingers twitched. So did my eyelids. I was awake but my body wouldn't listen to me. A wave of paranoia set in and I squirmed, struggling against the invisible restraints.
My body remained unresponsive.
What was happening to me?
"… nothing any of us could do."
"… you dare…"
Whatever efforts I made to move died down as Lord Fashire's irritated voice cut through the air.
"My Lord. We couldn't stop him entirely this time," a low, feminine voice replied.
My mind raced, trying to make sense of the conversation. The voice addressing Lord Fashire was calm and relaxed. It must belong to one of his servants.
But the mere thought of Lord Fashire having servants who spoke to him with such ease was strange.
Lord Fashire growled, "Why do I even bother? Dispose of the body. I do not want his decomposing corpse soiling my interior anytime soon."
"But his Majesty…"
Lord Fashire's response dripped with indifference, "Now do tell me, Edna. How is that any of my concern? Just get rid of it. I have warned the fool multiple times not to trespass on my property. He brought this upon himself."
'Oh lords.'
I inwardly panicked, not knowing what to make of this. The golden-fanged vampire was undoubtedly a pure-blooded royal, an influential figure in the vampire world. And Lord Fashire was casually talking about disposing his body.
Most importantly, Fashire had called him his brother…
No. It couldn't be. Lord Fashire didn't have golden fangs and…
I faltered.
Now that I remembered, he had moved too fast for me to have seen his fangs, and the wound he had left was very severe.
"I know you are awake, young woman."
To my surprise, my eyes fluttered open, and I found myself able to move. My heart raced with a mix of fear and curiosity. I couldn't move mere seconds ago. Had this been his doing?
I tentatively reached for my shoulder, my fingertips grazing the scar tissue underneath the fabric. The pain had subsided, but it still hurt.
"Eat," he said tersely.
The roof of the bed's canopy greeted me and I slowly turned my neck to the side. Spacious folds of a blanketed bed buried and surrounded me at the same time. I felt smaller than usual in this expansive bed.
My gaze almost instantaneously landed on Lord Fashire. He sat at a study table, with dark, leather-bound books adorning his desk as he rested an elbow at its clear edge. The blazing firelight from a nearby fireplace played with the shadows on his face, a shifting landscape that held a persistent mocking smile.
I sat still, staring back at him, slightly afraid. He was a noble, but he had called the purebred his brother. And from the conversation with his servant, he had apparently killed the royal.
The words slipped out before I could help it, "Who… who are you?"
I stiffened, unable to take back the words now that they were out.
Where had I gotten the courage to ask that? Had I already forgotten just how dangerous he was?
If he was a royal, how had he bitten me and I survived it?
'There is something wrong with you too, or have you forgotten?'
He tilted his head slightly to the side and cocked a brow. I couldn't really tell as the flickering shadows cast a wobbling image across his features, highlighting the intense flare of his silver-grey eyes.
They weren't glowing, but the intensity made me look away.
An agonizing emptiness threatened to tear my stomach apart when my eyes landed on the tray at the side of the bed. I tried to move towards it, but flopped onto the bed instead, weakened. The food seemed too far away.
"I see you're bold enough to be curious at this stage," he mocked my earlier question.
Startled, I propped myself up, my weakened body straining against the bedding. "No—I didn't mean—Forgive me, please. I had no business asking—"
"Be quiet and eat," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone.
The emptiness of my stomach gnawed at me and I shifted further towards the edge of the bed. Such a simple task proved strenuous. But the moment I reached the tray, starvation took over.
I raised a trembling spoonful of broth to my lips. The steam swirled against my skin before I tasted the warm liquid. It flowed down my throat, filling my chest with a comforting warmth that brought tears to my eyes.
I consumed the food with urgency, ignoring any semblance of grace and not caring how I looked before him.
I was just a lamb being fattened for sacrifice.
But just as the warm food went down my system, I could no longer suppress the slick, salty tears that streamed down my face. My eyes burned as I silently sobbed.
After this meal, the real nightmares would begin.
And I was not looking forward to any of it.