Under the vampire Lord's protection Chapter 3: To a new beginning

A heavy burden suddenly pressed down on Arabella's shoulders. Deep inside, it sparked a compelling desire to whirl around, seeking the piercing gaze that seemed to bore right through her back.

"What is it?" Ada traced Arabella's line of sight.

"Nothing!" She faced the maid with a forced smile, "I'm just acting foolish. Ignore me,"

Indeed, nothing or nobody lingered at the base of the stairs observing them.

"Very well, let's proceed. You require rest," Ada agreed with a nod and started ascending the upper portion of the stairs toward the first floor without further comment.

The portrait of Lord Emeric dominated nearly the entire wall, exuding an aura of intimidation.

Not just the silver frame, but the ancient brushwork on the canvas also shimmered beneath the chandelier lights. Captured in a pose that sent shivers through viewers, flames rekindled vitality in those golden eyes glaring down in disapproval. It felt like he continued to watch over his domain from the grave.

After finally tearing her gaze from Lord Emeric's painting, Arabella cast one final look back at the empty staircase bottom.

"This way, Miss Arabella,"

"Just Arabella, please," Arabella dropped her eyes to the floor and quickened her pace to match the maid's.

Unbeknownst to her, her senses proved accurate, for a pair of diamond-like eyes tracked her every step.

Silas paused briefly before his father's portrait once the women vanished onto the first floor.

No words passed between father and son. Only the subdued footsteps on the carpet reached him, along with the wild thumping of a heartbeat from that same path.

Ada's skirt hem brushed her ankles, its white silk trim swinging side to side with her stride.

Even the servants' uniforms were crafted from lavish fabrics there. Black outfits accented with white flecks formed the preferred style.

Occasionally, Arabella ventured a glance up at Ada's back. In the dim night lit solely by candles, gauging the maid's complexion proved tricky, but Arabella guessed olive-toned.

Her hair was pulled into a bun, yet Arabella sensed its thickness even so.

Silver accents surrounded them everywhere. No furniture bore any varnish other than silver, sparking Arabella's interest in a vampire's abode, no less.

She cleared her throat softly before whispering, "Ada, can I ask something?"

"Yes, certainly," the maid answered without halting or glancing back.

"I notice much of the decor here features... silver tones. It strikes me as strange, given...," Arabella let her words fade.

"Oh! I understand your point, but fear not—none of these decorations are made from silver that could hurt vampires. It's simply a color Lady Persephone adores," Ada looked over her shoulder at Arabella, flashing a warm smile briefly.

The lengthy, broad corridors even displayed silver-painted metal armors. Arabella figured Lady Persephone's fascination with the hue stemmed from her son's striking appearance.

"Here we are," Ada halted before a grand wooden door, exquisitely carved, which she swung open and stepped aside to usher Arabella in.

Astounded by the room's luxury right at the entrance, Arabella froze until Ada gently nudged her forward with a hand on her back.

Silver threads wove through the massive chandelier suspended from the ceiling's center.

Its glow reflected off platinum walls and pearl-white silk drapes.

The bed claimed the bulk of the space. Four white posters at its corners were draped in thick velvet curtains above and sheer lace below.

An elevated frame, carved as ornately as the surrounding pieces, supported a mattress piled with plush, embroidered covers and pillows.

"The bathroom and restroom are through that door on the left," Ada indicated it, "Please, feel at home while I retrieve the remedy for your wounds," she departed swiftly, closing the door after her.

Arabella simply nodded in reply. With mouth slightly open and eyes wide with wonder, she twirled slowly to absorb the grandeur. She rushed to the huge window, beaming at the moon.

Far surpassing her expectations after fleeing through mud to the manor, tears brimmed in her eyes. Superior to anything her father had ever provided.

For a vampire, capturing every subtle noise beyond a shut door was commonplace—a innate ability sharpened over time.

From his position, Silas could track Arabella's actions precisely. The bathroom door's creak revealed her destination.

Next came the faucet's squeak, followed by water gushing into the tub with a splash.

Her light footsteps on the floor indicated she'd removed her shoes.

The girl winced repeatedly while shedding the cumbersome dress enveloping her. A distinct thud sounded when it dropped.

A faint swish against her skin likely came from fiddling with her necklace's gold chain for the clasp. The ensuing click verified it. Gold links tinkled as she slipped it off.

Then a brief metallic clink against a solid surface.

Each breath she drew sounded as if taken right by his ear. Her heartbeat had steadied somewhat, yet Silas's thumb tingled, imagining her pulse under it.

His fangs ached to extend... "Just one taste," voices in his mind pleaded. He need only seize the knob and turn. She'd be there, vulnerable...

His mind raced with visions of savoring the crimson essence flowing in her veins.

Must he really hold back to discover its flavor? What if it proved lackluster? She was a Sterling, after all. No, impossible—not with that intoxicating aroma.

"Master Silas," Ada's voice shattered his reverie.

Silas cleared his throat, shooting her a sidelong glare.

Ada's heart stuttered. Inhaling sharply at his ire—and especially his fangs—she stammered, "It's the new girl, Master. She got hurt en route, but I've brought the remedy," she paused, "The blood scent won't linger to trouble you,"

To her relief, he nodded, "No issue, Ada. Ensure she gets whatever she requires," his usual frosty tone barely eased her dread.

Ada bowed deeply, offering profuse thanks. When she straightened, Silas had vanished from the hallway.

The door clicked open as a refreshed Arabella, now in a lovely, far comfier white gown, peered out.

"Ada? It was you the whole time," Arabella clutched her chest, "I thought I heard multiple voices," she grinned.

"No need to fret, Miss. I've brought everything you require," Ada raised the silver tray bearing a glass of liquid, "Drink it all—it'll speed your injuries' healing,"

"Please, call me Arabella. I'm no noble since this morning," Arabella accepted the tray, "Does it have vampire blood?" she inquired.

"Yes. From a younger vampire, so its potency may not match an elder's," the maid explained.

"That's plenty for me. Thank you, Ada,"

"A small bell sits on the nightstand by your bed. Ring it anytime you need something," She started to leave but remembered, "Oh! The chandelier candles will snuff out automatically once you're in bed,"

That night, as Arabella slipped under the soft sheets and rested her head on the plushest pillow, tears flowed...

Safety sleeping with the maids would have sufficed for gratitude. Her hopes were modest, yet this surpassed them utterly.

Clasping her chest, Arabella wept steadily and sobbed until exhaustion sealed her eyes.