Married To The Mad Vampire Lord novel Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Incapable of love (part 2)

Belle did not dare open her eyes. The veil had made her feel hidden and a little at ease that he could not read her eyes and she could not see his dark ones, but now that he had removed that little piece of mask, she felt her heart skip a beat in fear. Would he see that she was not her sister, the beautiful flower their king had asked for? Would he, like any other man apart from her Jamie, see how unattractive her face was?

Men had not failed to remind her all the time of how pale her beauty was compared to her precious sister. They said she was a toad next to a fairy and that she should never show her face in public when Eve was around. She had become so insecure and timid because of it until she met Jamie, and he showered her with all the praises she had never received, even from her own family. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Eve only called her beautiful when she wanted something from her, and her father would not let her out to meet their guests if her hair wasn't let down and her head down to hide the small scar on her forehead or her unattractive face. Now that he had revealed her all of a sudden, her fingers clutched her dress, and she shut her eyes tightly.

Her hair was not down; it was tied up with pins, and only a few curls were framing the sides of her face. He would probably tell the coachman to stop and send her back to her family. That would be good, but she could not imagine the disappointment she would bring to her family for that, not to mention the treason they had committed by switching them.

Their father had said the king would never know, as he had not personally met the two of them since the time they were little girls, and if she did not give herself away, everything would be fine. But surely, her unattractive face would make everything come crumbling down. Belle believed that, but when her husband did not say a word or move, she peeked out through her lashes and froze as her eyes locked with his. Though she realized he was not looking into her eyes but at the scar above her left brow, she could not help but still.

Why was he staring at her unsightly scar? If her hair had been down, the scar wouldn't have been visible, as her front bangs would have hidden it. She wanted to cover her face with the veil but stilled, her breath hitching in her lungs as she waited for him to send her back home.

He was much more handsome than he had seemed from her view behind the veil. He had tan skin, which was a surprising thing for a vampire known to be pale. His rare dark blue hair, which had been smoothly swept back in the wedding hall, was now in a half-disheveled state that made him even more charming. He was like a dark fallen angel with the eyes of the devil himself. His skin had a golden hue, and his unblemished, drop-dead handsome face was almost unreal. It was a sin for a man—a bloodsucker, at that—to look this breathtakingly good.

He parted his red, gorgeous lips to speak, but the words he spoke were different from what Belle had imagined he would say. She had expected him to scoff in disgust and yell orders at the coachman to stop and send this unsightly woman back to her family, but instead, he said,

"Do you know my name, Isa?"

She blinked innocently and nodded her head.

"Then say it," he ordered calmly, his calm voice a stark contrast to his seemingly dead eyes and hard, indifferent face.

"Lord Dagon," she muttered softly, but he knitted his brows and tilted his head in a way she realized he liked doing.

"My name, sweetheart, not my last name. Say it."

Sweetheart. The endearment made her heart flutter for some reason. A wife was never permitted to call her husband's name, and she had watched even her parents address each other formally, even after many years of marriage.

"I dare not, my lord."

He was displeased now; she felt it. She looked up at him and saw that the eyes that wouldn't quite meet hers were narrowed in displeasure. Should she pity the woman those dark eyes finally rested on? They were too dark, too lifeless, and too blank—it was like the pit of hell.

He suddenly touched a lock of blonde hair that had drifted to her forehead. "Say my name, Isa. I am giving you permission to call me by it when it's just us. Say it."

"I can no—" She saw his eyes flick briefly toward hers, but he looked away in an instant. Yet his expression told her he wasn't pleased with her, thus she nodded her head. She wouldn't push her luck too much when he was being nice.

"V-very well, Rohan..." It felt like a sin to say his name, as she only knew him as the mad vampire. He was a madman, after all, she reminded herself. Or at least, he'd grown up in an asylum for madmen.

He looked pleased by her saying his name but did not speak again. Instead, he drew a thin curl of her blonde hair between his fingers, straightening it. He let it go, his eyes flickering as it bounced against her forehead. He drew the curl out again, watching it bounce back, and again. His concentration unnerved her; the closeness of his body unnerved her still more. He was seated sideways on the seat, half facing her.

"Y-you shall take all the spring out of it, my lor—Rohan," she said. "My maid will be so disappointed if she knew I hadn't gotten to Nightbrook with the hair she made..."

Rohan blinked, then returned his hand to his lap as though having to force it.

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