Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

Chapter 61: A Vampire’s Mercy

On the way, Lucian said nothing. His steps were calm, as if her humiliation held no effect on him. Yet the weight of his coat on her shoulders felt its own gravity.

Her thighs pressed tightly together as she walked, an unconscious attempt to keep any more blood from falling. Each step she carried against the polished floor felt heavier, as though it mirrored the shame, gleaming too brightly under the noon sun.

When they reached the door to his room, Ruelle watched as Lucian pushed it open and stepped inside. A hush of cool air slipped out, carrying the soft scent of old parchment and something distinctly that belonged to him.

"M–maybe I should return to the previous room," she murmured, voice small and uncertain.

"I did not know that room offered protection from vampiresses," he replied. There was no mockery in his words, only matter‑of‑fact observation.

Her pulse fluttered. Living with her stepmother and Caroline had afforded her enough knowledge about the situation. And Caroline was always in discomfort and complaining. Her sister, though younger, had bloomed two years ago.

"It will be messy. I—I don’t want to inconvenience you," her words almost turned into a whisper.

Lucian turned, expression unreadable. He remarked nonchalantly, "I am a vampire, not some mindless beast. Your blood tempting me should be the least of your worries right now."

Something in his tone was calm and unflinching, which reassured but also unsettled her at the same time.

Ruelle stepped in behind him, her steps hesitant.

She watched him walk to the tall, carved wooden divider at the far end of the room. Behind which was the bathtub nestled in shadow. He reached for the bronze tap and turned it on. Water gurgled into the bathtub, steam coiling upward like gentle tendrils.

"You should bathe. It will help," he murmured, his tone softening unconsciously.

Ruelle nodded wordlessly, walking to the other side of the divider. She stood there, silent and feeling small, guilt rising in her chest. If he hadn’t rescued her from the river, she would have still been that spectacle. Yet here she was, guided into privacy and comfort.

Lucian stepped away before saying, "I will be back in a couple of minutes." He left the room with the click of the door echoing in the hush he left behind.

Ruelle’s legs shook as she listened to the echo of his footsteps fade. With a trembling hand, she removed the coat from her shoulders and let it fall. Her clothing followed in a quiet heap. Naked, she slid into the warmth of the bath. The water soothed her—even as it blushed pink.

Far from Ruelle’s quiet sanctuary, Lucian walked through the infirmary wing that smelt of antiseptic, disinfectant and clean linen washing over him. White curtains stirred gently in the breeze from open windows.

"Didn’t expect to see you here, brother."

It was Dane who sat beside a cot where a pale human girl lay unconscious. Beside him stood Gemma Gilbert. "Hunt go sideways?" he asked in a light tone, while his eyes searched for injuries but found none.

"Brought back a deer," Lucian replied, his footsteps even.

Dane clapped softly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. He praised, "That’s my brother. The pride of Slater House."

"What are you doing here?" Lucian asked, his eyes falling on the pale human.

"Found this one lying in a closed cupboard," Dane answered, his voice light, but his smile no longer reached his eyes. "She’d been there over a day. Missed assignments."

home in a casket. The Elites would have gotten a pass in the past, but we are already low on

"Wasn’t Mortis talking about recruiting more?" He took a

late now," Gemma shook her head. Switching subjects, she then turned to Lucian and remarked, "Your brother has

way, cool and reserved. His brother merely shrugged with his

elusive Lucian Slater to the modest little infirmary?" Gemma

shifted toward the shelves as if searching for

"Pretty sure those are kept in the dining

before he clarified, "I need sanitary cloths. For

and Dane blinked with a

Of course. It is in the second cupboard, third shelf.

A drawer squeaked, and he returned with folded cotton cloths which

seems Ms. Belmont isn’t prepared for

curt but not unkind. He ignored Dane’s twitching

before saying, "She did look undernourished when she arrived. Thin wrists, tired

how quickly fortunes turn," Dane hummed, tapping a finger

Gemma asked, not understanding what Dane

turned away, the corners of his mouth

the dirt, as Alanna had called it. The water had long

heat of the bath had dulled it. She tore a strip from one of her oldest skirts—soft, worn cotton—and folded it tightly. A makeshift solution, just enough to keep herself

sleeves that once belonged to Caroline. The river had broadcasted to everyone in

she moved to the tub again. She turned the faucet on to clean the bathtub to remove any

"What are you doing?"

voice startled Ruelle. She turned away from the bathtub, her eyes slightly wide as

you can

His lips pursed and he then said, "There’s no need to do that with your current

for these things anyway," the words

For a second, Ruelle feared she had offended him. But then he exhaled quietly. Less a sigh, more a subtle release

to come and clean the room and bathtub. You aren’t a slave yet, so stick to acting like the human you are," Lucian’s words were firm, leaving no room for argument. He then crossed the space between them and held out a bundle

his offered hand and then at the folded cotton layered cloths. When realisation dawned, she quickly

situation where men often turned disturbed

do. Especially for your first time," Lucian stated with not a

clutching the soft bundle he had given

Lucian turned and opened the door to reveal a middle-aged Halfling maid carrying two plates of food. She set it gently on the small

guessed you didn’t eat, with all that splashing in the river," Lucian spoke to Ruelle, sliding into his chair and offering her a look that

think that would

gaze without blinking.

the dining hall. Besides, unlike the Elites, the cook won’t prepare food for a Groundling who has missed her lunch." He swept his gaze across to the empty chair. "Sit. Eat. Rest. I don’t need distractions from whatever pain your body

and cold, though there was something more beneath it. She could be wrong, she thought to herself. She lowered her gaze and nodded stiffly. She slid into the chair, eyes tracing the steam rising from the food. Everything on the plate smelt rich and nourishing, making

Across from her, Lucian had eaten no more than four bites. However, he occasionally brought the glass filled with blood to his lips