Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62: Mouthfuls and Missteps

The room had grown quiet. The fork had been set down, the clink of porcelain a soft punctuation to the silence that followed.

’Take the bed.’

The words hung in the air like mist, impossible to grasp fully as confusion knitted across Ruelle’s face.

"I’m... alright. I can take the couch," she offered softly.

Lucian’s eyebrow twitched. He repeated, "I said take the bed. Don’t test my patience, Belmont."

And there it was—the cold steel edge she had expected. The sudden shift from the man who had offered her warmth to the one who would rather see her crumble. Her fingers tightened around the blanket, her gaze falling away from his.

"You have already done enough. It’s your bed," she tried again, her gaze not quite meeting his. "If I sleep there... where will you sleep? It would be... improper. If anyone heard, it would look—"

Lucian’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking ever so slightly. He stated flatly, "I’m not concerned about gossip. And I don’t think you’re foolish enough to damage your own reputation."

"But I might stain it," she reasoned, shame rising like heat to her cheeks. "And if that happens, you’ll be angry. You always do..."

Lucian’s eyes darkened and he ordered, "Into the bed, Belmont."

His words weren’t loud, but Ruelle’s breath trembled. Her emotions, bottled since the river, trembled at the surface now. She could feel it. The pressure, the shame, the weight of everything unspoken. Her voice cracked, barely audible.

"You already are angry," she said softly. "And tomorrow, when your patience wears thin, you’ll regret this. You’ll look at me like—like I’m a nuisance. I don’t want to make you angry again. I don’t want to—

She tried to hold it back, but her throat tightened and her eyes betrayed her grief. A single tear escaped, tracing a pale line down her cheek before vanishing against the fabric of her dress. When more followed, she brushed them away with trembling fingers.

A storm appeared in Lucian’s eyes that hadn’t yet decided where to fall. His hand twitched, as though uncertain what to do. His jaw then unclenched, and he finally exhaled.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry," his voice was low and controlled, the single admission softening the harsh lines between them. "I was only trying to help." He paused, as if weighing every syllable, before adding, "You’re not exactly subtle. I can see the pain in your posture from across the room. Unless that’s just how you always stand."

Ruelle’s breath caught and she stared at him.

After a few seconds, Lucian’s expression shifted—subtle, but enough to draw her gaze. He stepped towards her, silent as a shadow, and reached into his coat. From the inner pocket, he withdrew a neatly folded handkerchief, dark as midnight, and held it out to her. It wasn’t exactly kindness, but rather something more complex and honest.

"You don’t have to worry about me," he said. "I won’t be upset with you tomorrow morning."

Ruelle blinked up at him. Slowly, she took the soft handkerchief from his hand.

The raw edge in his tone offered permission more gentle than any apology she could have hoped for. In a small whisper, she managed, "Thank you."

He didn’t speak another word. Instead, he picked up his pillow and crossed the room towards the couch. She slipped under the soft sheets, guilt fluttering in her chest for taking the bed, yet comfort lacing through her limbs.

Once she settled in the bed, she did not know what to make of Lucian—nor what to expect tomorrow. But that brief gesture, that fragile truce, softened the sharpest ache in her chest.

Moments passed before she gathered the courage to speak again. "Lucian?" she ventured, voice low and weary.

"Hm?" He responded, candlelight flickering across his profile. freēwebnovel.com

"Do you hate me less now?" She asked, her words turning into a whisper.

"No. I still hate you with the same intensity," Lucian remarked.

Ruelle hummed, her eyes closed, a small wry smile gracing her lips at the thought of how strange her roommate was.

As minutes slipped into an hour, sleep claimed Ruelle fully. Her body, worn and aching, melted into the unfamiliar luxury of the mattress—soft in a way nothing from her world had ever been. The pain that had throbbed through her limbs dulled, as if even it had surrendered to rest.

Lucian sat with one leg elegantly crossed over the other, the leather-bound book resting open in his lap as the soft flicker of candlelight spread shadows along the sharp line of his jaw. The room was quiet, save for the faint sound of breathing that belonged to the young woman on his bed. Her breathing had steadied into slumber long ago, delicate and quiet.

He had grown used to it. Just as he had grown used to her scent, the rustle of her movements, and the way she curled on the couch in his room.

A soft scrape outside the door drew his attention and he lowered the book, closing it with a muted snap.

His eyes narrowed at the obvious, hesitant footsteps, and he crossed the room. With one swift movement, he opened the door with not so much as a sound before his eyes fell on the two humans.

Hailey froze mid-motion, her hand awkwardly suspended in the air as though she had only just decided whether to knock. Beside her, Kevin’s eyes widened slightly.

His gaze barely met the Elite’s but couldn’t hold for long. His spine stiffened on instinct.

The pureblooded vampire said nothing at first. His presence was commanding, but more than that, it was unwelcoming. Cold. Like winter had stepped into the corridor.

Hailey found her voice faltering under the weight of the vampire’s dark gaze. And Kevin, though trying to hold his ground, felt something primal in him tighten, as if instinct warned him not to cross this person. This vampire didn’t need to raise his voice or bare his fangs. His eyes—those cold, deep red eyes—were enough. Detached. Dispassionate.

Lucian was not like the other vampires who smiled at social gatherings, who tried to imitate civility. He didn’t pretend to be approachable. He didn’t soften the edges of his nature for the comfort of others. Least of all humans. And no matter how calmly he stood, there was a tension in the air, the kind that warned one not to turn their back.

To the two humans at the door now, he was every bit the predator people whispered about in the corridors of Sexton. And yet... Ruelle was asleep in his bed, wrapped in warmth that he had made space for. A quiet contradiction that no one watching from the outside would ever guess.

Hailey cleared her throat, managing a polite but stiff smile. "I—um... we came to check on Ruelle."

"She’s asleep," Lucian replied coolly. He didn’t move aside to let them in.

"Oh," Hailey nodded, shifting the bundle she held. It was wrapped in layers of fabric, clumsy in its attempt to disguise something clearly meant to be private. "I brought something for her. Just in case. I wasn’t sure if she..."

Her voice faded beneath his silence. They were late coming here because she had exhausted her own sanitary cloths and had checked with her fellow classmates to get some. And it was harder with everyone out at the river, while some had left early to visit their homes.

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