Under the vampire Lord's protection Chapter 5: First taste

Arabella lingered through the remainder of the day inside her chamber, simply perched and staring blankly out the window while her thoughts churned with... well, quite simply, everything.

Every single event starting from the instant her father declared she would be dispatched to the palace as a "servant" for the prince.

Recalling the endless night she endured fleeing along winding, muddy trails, the young lady slipped off her velvet shoes to inspect the lingering blisters earned from that grueling trek.

Her encounter with Lady Persephone, and then... that piercing stare of his paired with the icy chill in his voice.

Her hands instinctively rose to rub her arms at the memory. The gesture successfully chased away the shivers sparked by his cutting words.

Lady Persephone mentioned Silas was unique, yet never clarified how. Arabella held no preconceptions about it, but his capacity to stroll beneath the sun still astonished her beyond belief.

Arabella barely managed lunch, an unseen lump blocking her throat and turning every swallow into a struggle. Even chewing brought discomfort.

Dinner proved an even tougher ordeal, especially as the moment of their encounter loomed nearer, leaving her stomach in knots.

She almost jumped up when a knock echoed at the door.

"'Tis I, Ada, Miss. May I enter?" Ada's voice filtered through, muffled.

"Yes," Arabella answered swiftly.

"Master Silas sent me to retrieve you. He awaits you in his chambers."

The moment had arrived to settle the cost of her refuge. Arabella twisted her face into a grimace instead of a grin and nodded.

Though her heart pounded fiercely within its confines, she lifted her chin proudly as she followed Ada.

Arabella glided with elegant poise, her posture echoing the rigorous training that molded her into a true Lady.

The golden hues cast by flickering candles swayed and twirled across every surface, bypassing nooks and crannies that birthed creepy shadows growing ever larger as she neared Silas' quarters, poised to engulf her entirely.

Though maybe it would have terrified her less if they actually had...

Arabella swallowed quietly, fixing her gaze on Ada's back while wrestling with the question burning in her mind. In the end, though, she couldn't hold back and called out, "Ada..."

"Yes, Miss?" the maid replied.

By now, Arabella had abandoned efforts to make her drop the "Miss" and instead shaped her query clearly, "Have you... ever given blood to a vampire before?"

"Oh yes! Every two weeks, all human servants gather at the infirmary to have a fixed amount of blood drawn and stored in proper jars. It's for the vampire staff throughout the manor to drink," Ada beamed at Arabella before facing forward again.

"I meant..." Arabella hesitated, "Have you ever been bitten by a vampire?"

"Oh..." Ada kept her back turned, but her tone revealed the smile had vanished, "Yes, long ago," she murmured.

Noticing Ada's unease on the topic, Arabella cleared her throat, letting silence settle between them once more.

Yet, whether for better or worse, the tension didn't persist.

Just moments later, Ada stopped before a grand door, far more ornate than Arabella's own.

"We've arrived," Ada offered a brief smile before rapping on the wood.

Without pausing for a response, she swung the door open, granting Arabella no chance to steel herself.

"Don't worry, Miss. It won't hurt, and it'll end before you realize."

Noting Arabella's shocked expression, Ada provided reassuring words that appeared to soothe her.

Gradually, Arabella edged past Ada and entered the chamber.

"This is where I stop," Ada grinned, promptly closing the door before Arabella could utter a word.

Gripping the edges of her gown, Arabella held her breath, observing the scant light within the room. Yet it didn't diminish the inviting warmth, as the sparse lit candles bathed the space in a gentle, inviting glow that heightened its aura of enigma and seduction.

Heavy drapes divided the room into sections, impossible to discern with the brocade panels fully drawn.

Any tables or desks present overflowed with wooden carvings of all sizes and forms, each intricately and masterfully shaped. A lone lounge chair sat positioned before the massive window.

The brightest spot in the chamber, encircled by assorted tools, hosted a large wooden sculpture. Roughly half Arabella's height, it looked far from complete.

Something about it drew Arabella in. The grooves carved into the wood whispered to her somehow.

Maybe it stemmed from how the candlelight danced across its face, forming patterns on both the dips and rises.

She leaned in closer to examine the finer details, only to freeze and pull back abruptly for a split second.

Glancing about, Arabella noted Silas remained absent. She exhaled softly in relief, drew in a fresh breath, then refocused on the sculpture to delve deeper.

"That sculpture remains unfinished."

Arabella's frame snapped upright, spinning to match the resonant voice that tore her focus from the artwork.

"I'm sorry..." she began, but the words deserted her.

He lingered near the dividing curtains, staring intently as he methodically cleaned his hands with a pristine cloth. The spark in his striking eyes kept her pulse racing uncontrollably.

For an instant, they locked gazes across the space, until Silas advanced toward her, prompting a slight recoil from Arabella.

As he approached, her gaze traced the exquisitely stitched and adorned shirt he wore. Pinpointing its precise color proved tricky under the dim candlelight, but the shimmering silver threads in the embroidery matched his hair perfectly.

It clung to his build, accentuating his broad shoulders and confirming the portraits captured his splendor accurately. The material extended past his waist, overlapping the top of his trousers.

Only when he halted right before her did she notice she was pinned between his presence and the candles at her rear.

"Show me your eyes," his tone lacked the earlier frost from their daytime exchange, yet it still sent a faint quiver through her.

Still, she complied, raising her eyes to meet his.

His razor-sharp diamond eyes roamed her entirely, from the golden hairband woven into her locks, across every facial feature—dwelling on her emerald eyes, subtle scars, and full lips—then descending to her bosom, where a golden locket nestled in her décolletage. He tuned into the frantic heartbeat echoing inside, betraying no mercy.

"Pleased to meet you. I am Silas," once more, without seeking her name, he offered no warmth.

"The pleasure is mine, Master," she responded gradually, her voice trembling slightly as color bloomed on her cheeks.

His focus shifted to the wooden sculpture nearby, "Does it catch your liking?"

Arabella's gaze darted between the artwork and the precise embroidery on his chest, "I..." her lips parted and shut repeatedly.

"It brought a smile to your face," he noted in a smoother, richer tone.

"It did?" Her hand rose to her cheek upon realizing she had smiled while studying it.

"Tell me, what do you see in it?" His unblinking stare into her eyes compelled her to look back at the piece.

Arabella faced the sculpture and stated, "It depicts the chronicle of our realm. Of Solis Aevum both before and after its split into the realms we know today," her words started softly but gained strength as she continued.

Silas's eyes flared briefly before resuming their neutral mask.

"Explain further," he commanded.

Though half-turned from him, Arabella felt him step nearer. His heat seeped through her gown to her skin. She trembled yet maintained poise, concentrating on the carving instead.

From the base upward, amid the tall, irregular lines dominating the sculpture, she smiled faintly, "These symbolize the lush greenery blanketing every glade in the kingdom. Napiel grass thrives only in Solis Aevum," her fingers drifted over twin crossed swords at the base of a curving upward line, "The winding path signifies time's flow, while these blades mark the brutal clashes between daywalkers and nightwalkers prior to the great war. One bears the sun's mark, the other the moon's," her hand ascended to trace the wolf carvings' indents, "The wolf folk's advent aligned with the outbreak of the hundred-and-twenty-year war, and directly above," she indicated a line slicing vertically through the first path, "marks the war's end. When the kingdom fractured into Umbraria for nightwalkers and Lustris for daywalkers."

Silas listened without interruption until she finished.

"I understand the wolf folk's arrival appears only in obscure advanced histories, rarely central in human women's studies. Do you harbor a passion for history?" Silas drew even nearer until their forms pressed together.

Arabella jolted slightly but surrendered to his enveloping warmth.

"I'm afraid my reply might let you down, Master," she offered a wry smile.

"Come sit," Silas directed, striding to the lounge chair by the window. He settled first and gestured for her beside him, "Share it regardless."

"I... once overheard snippets from my brother's history lessons, and the teacher's voice was so calming that I adored just listening," she paused, eyes scanning anywhere but Silas, lost in reminiscence, "I perched by a window near the classroom, absorbing his tales of the past during my embroidery. Even after those sessions ended, I cultivated a fondness for history's stories," her voice trailed off softly.

"Give me your hand."

Startled by the abrupt command, her gaze whipped to him. She stared motionlessly, anticipating more. But Silas merely extended his open palm.

Understanding he wouldn't repeat, she promptly offered her right hand, which he grasped gently by the wrist and drew tenderly toward his face, his lips.

Arabella's chest rose and fell rapidly as his breath warmed her skin. Her blood surged faster when his gleaming fangs emerged from under his lips.

Eyes closed, Silas paused, gauging her pulse before pressing his fangs against her tender flesh and sinking them in.

A faint moan slipped from her as they breached the veil to her blood. Arabella quivered and stiffened, but soon her tension melted away, grateful Ada spoke truth—it truly didn't hurt.

Instead, the sensation brought a profound peace she hadn't known in ages. As her blood ebbed from her veins, every knot in her body unraveled.

But just as she began savoring it, Silas withdrew and stated flatly, "You may go," rising to his feet. "Seek out my mother," he added without looking back, vanishing behind the heavy curtains.