Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

Chapter 36: The weekend

It was Saturday noon, and Ruelle sat at the worn wooden table, a warm bowl of stew in front of her. The smell of herbs and broth filled the small kitchen, mingling with the sound of Hailey’s mother, Mrs. Sylvie Elliot, bustling around, setting more bread on the table. The kitchen was modest, the chairs worn, but there was a kind of quiet comfort in its simplicity.

Across from her, Mr. Elliot leaned back in his chair, his large frame making the chair creak under his weight. His boots were still dirt-streaked from the fields, and his hands, rough with calluses, rested on the table. His voice, when it came, was a low rumble that filled the room like distant thunder.

"Pass the bread, love," he said to Mrs. Elliot before turning to Ruelle, his sharp gaze softening as it settled on her. "You girls need to eat more," he said, his gruff voice carrying a note of warmth. "You’ve got those tests comin’ up at that academy of yours, don’t you?"

Mr. Elliot tore off another piece of bread and leaned forward, placing it on Ruelle’s plate with a firm nod.

Ruelle hesitated, "Oh, I’m fine, thank you—"

"Go on, girl. Eat up. You’ll need the strength," his rough voice carried a warmth that was as thick as the stew they ate, softening the hard lines of his face.

Mrs. Elliot, from across the table, smiled as she handed Ruelle a napkin. She said, "He’s right, dear. You and Hailey have been studying hard, and it’s important to look after yourselves."

There was a gentleness in the way they spoke to her, as if Ruelle weren’t just a guest for the weekend but someone they truly cared about. It was a stark contrast to the cold, polite distance of her own home—where she often felt invisible.

"Thank you," Ruelle said softly, a bit taken aback by their concern. She took the piece of bread, her fingers lingering on the warm crust. The simple gesture stirred something inside her, something unfamiliar and bittersweet.

Hailey nudged her with a grin. She said, "Told you my father likes to pretend he’s tough, but he’s a big softie. He won’t stop until we’re stuffed."

you," he said, his tone a mix of gruffness and affection. "A strong mind needs a strong body

banter, the affection between Hailey and her parents—it was all so foreign to her, but at the same time, it felt

The thought of returning home had filled her with a kind of dread that lingered, even though the worst of the tension between

was the small, unspoken gestures. The way Mr. Elliot handed her an extra piece of bread without a second thought, the way Mrs. Elliot refilled her bowl with a smile, as if she were one of their own.

quiet," Mrs. Elliot observed gently, her eyes soft as

far too long. "Oh, yes," she said quickly, offering a small smile.

smile deepened, and she reached over to gently pat Ruelle’s arm. "We’re happy to have you

Their love wasn’t hidden behind stern words or cold rules. It was right there, open and warm, filling the small kitchen like

of the books that belonged to Lucian, her eyes immediately drawn to the neat, precise handwriting in the margins. His notes were clear, concise, each

notes, silently appreciating the clarity of his mind. She could sense the discipline in the way he had written. Even though

page. She murmured in awe, "I still can’t

replied, "Got on his last nerve..." recalling the way Lucian had told her to stay out

walked through the familiar corridors. The afternoon light filtered through the tall

neared his father’s study, the low hum of conversation carried through the slightly ajar door, causing Lucian to

about the Belmont

paused, his attention narrowing on the words. The voice belonged to Count Westerling, a man whose reputation echoed throughout the vampire courts. But it wasn’t the Count’s presence that made Lucian stop—it

came the voice of Lord Azriel, Lucian’s father. "I didn’t think I would ever

strike me at first, but I recalled it later. The one she married is a nobody, of

at something beneath the surface. Ruelle. The word hung in the air for a moment, but he let it settle, kept it locked beneath layers of practiced