Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 192

Chapter 192: What Happened to Your Neck

The carriage wheels rolled over frost-hardened ground and it finally stopped in front of the seamstress’ store. Mrs. Belmont stepped down first, her eyes travelling up the towering buildings. Her lips parted slightly as she murmured,

"I didn’t know buildings this tall existed."

Ruelle caught Hailey’s hand and pulled her into the shop. As they entered, the little bell above the door gave a soft chime. Warmth rushed over her skin at once.

"Miss Ruelle Belmont," the voice floated through the room before she saw him.

Noah Dove stood near one of the mannequins, radiant as ever, his long hair tied into a high ponytail with a pencil shoved through it. His red eyes twinkled.

"It is good to see you here. I was worried when I heard you weren’t able to visit."

"Something came up," Ruelle replied with a slight smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father staring at Noah as if the man were dust beneath his shoe.

Her father had demanded the seamstress bring the garments to the house and make the adjustments there, as if summoning a servant. But Noah had refused outright and hadn’t even sent a scrap of fabric in return. Only after Mrs. Belmont insisted she and Hailey needed clothes too had her father begrudgingly agreed to come here himself.

Petty things like this should not have mattered. But lately every little thing he did sat under her skin longer than it was supposed to.

"Come in," Noah waved them further inside.

The fitting room looked much like she remembered. Too polished for a place where pins, scissors and thread lived. As they entered a room, a tall mirror stood against the wall with a cushioned stool before it, while a long couch sat opposite with smaller stools beside it.

"The wedding gown still needs some finishing details. But the rest is ready," Noah said, already circling her like she was one of his unfinished works. He then snapped his fingers. "Bree."

One of his assistants appeared at once. He instructed, "Bring Miss Ruelle’s dresses to the back room. Let her try them."

The woman bowed and disappeared.

Ruelle frowned slightly. She replied, "I thought I only ordered the wedding gown."

"There were other things added for the bride-to-be," Noah said, his eyes crinkling as if he were pleased with himself. "It is never a waste to have extra dresses. You will see it is all you wanted."

Ruelle gave a small nod.

A sly smile touched Noah’s lips as he reached to smooth the front strands of her hair that had ruffled during the journey. His fingers barely brushed her hair as if to fix it when her father interrupted,

"It is a poor habit to put your hands where they do not belong." He sat there with a scowl carved deep into his face, like Noah touching her hair had been something obscene.

For a brief second Noah’s smile thinned, but only for a second. Then he laughed softly, "And how exactly do you expect me to do my work? I need to make sure her veil sits right on her pretty hair."

Her father rose from his seat and crossed the room, stopping near them.

"You can use the usual fabric others do," her father said in a low tone.

A lazy smile appeared on the seamstress’s red-painted lips as if in amusement. He stated, "You needn’t worry. I have no interest in women. If you understand what I mean."

Ruelle watched her father pause and it took him a moment. And when understanding finally settled, his expression darkened further. He turned and walked back to sit beside Mrs. Belmont without another word.

Her stepmother cleared her throat, eager to smooth over what had just happened. She said,

"We are in need of clothes for the wedding too. I hope it can be done on short notice."

"My friend’s too," Ruelle spoke before Noah could answer, glancing toward Hailey, who was busy staring at one of the mannequins as though wondering if it was real. "My friend will be my bridesmaid. If you could prepare hers too... you can add it to the courthouse’s tab."

"Of course," Noah responded. He then snapped his fingers, and another assistant appeared with a measuring tape wrapped around her neck and a little book tucked beneath her arm.

"Miss Ruelle, your clothes have been prepared," the first assistant informed her.

"Go on," Noah said, turning to her. Then, as if nothing unpleasant had happened at all, he moved toward Mrs. Belmont and gestured to the stool. "Mrs. Belmont, why don’t you stand here so we can note down those lovely curves."

The compliment worked faster than medicine. Mrs. Belmont rose at once and stepped toward the stool. The seamstress then turned to Hailey next, "Kathie, show the young miss the fabrics. It will save us time."

Then his gaze slid to Mr. Belmont.

"And mister..." his voice trailed like he had forgotten his name. "Why don’t you wait in the front room while the women and I discuss things? Unless you’d prefer I start with your measurements first. I would be more than pleased."

Mr. Belmont’s jaw tightened and he answered, "I will take a look at the fabrics."

In the next room, connected by a narrow corridor where customers changed into their fittings, Ruelle stepped inside and found two wooden stalls built side by side. The assistant, who had followed her, spoke,

"You can use this one." She lifted her hand toward the stall at the far end as the closer stall had its door pulled shut.

Ruelle offered a small bow and watched the woman leave. Once alone, she stepped inside and pushed the door closed behind her. It was only when she turned that she noticed the clothes laid neatly on the chair.

In the pile of clothes prepared for her, the lace corset paired with lace-trimmed cotton shorts caught her attention. When she picked them up, the fabric felt lighter than she expected, softer too.

She removed her clothes, while she could hear muffled voices spill through the walls that belonged to Noah and her stepmother.

Outside, Ezekiel sat in the corner and waited.

For two days, he hadn’t found a single moment alone with Ruelle. The courthouse had sent Lucian away on work, but every time he thought he found Ruelle alone, someone interrupted. Especially Hailey. The only thing that had eased him was the mark on her neck disappearing overnight.

His gaze shifted to the corridor where Ruelle had disappeared. He had let her go too far already. Rising from his seat while the others busied themselves with fabrics and measurements, he quietly stepped away and made his way towards the corridor that connected to the room Ruelle was in.

On the other side of the shop, Ruelle stood with her back to the door, her fingers tying the laces of the corset behind her.

When she heard the faint rustle of fabric behind her, she pulled the dagger hidden in her dress and turned on her heel, swinging it without hesitation.

And her wrist was caught.

Her heart skipped when she met Lucian’s dark wine-red eyes staring back at her. For a moment, she was relieved to see him. But then she noticed the dagger had nicked the front of his neck, a thin line opening there, and she watched a single drop of blood slide down his pale skin. Guilt immediately took over her.

Lucian’s eyes stayed on the blood for a second too long and they dropped to what she was wearing before his gaze settled on her bare neck.

Ruelle reached for the handkerchief tucked into her dress, but before her fingers could touch it, Lucian stepped closer with just one step, and suddenly there was no space left between them.

"Ruelle."

Her name left his mouth low and smooth, but there was something beneath it, something sharp enough to make her spine stiffen. She noticed his free hand land on her shoulder and it slid upward before settling at the base of her neck, his fingers curling there as if measuring what was missing.

Around their feet, black tendrils had begun to spread soundlessly across the floorboards, thin as smoke but darker than shadow. One slid beneath the stall door and curled toward the doorknob.

"Would you like to explain," he said in a low voice, "why the soul bond is gone?" His eyes moved lower and he added, "And your scars."

Ruelle swallowed, seeing the way he looked at her. "I was practising with the book to—"

Her words were interrupted when she heard her father’s voice, speaking to one of the assistants. It sounded close. A shiver betrayed her when his thumb dragged over her skin, slow enough to remind her.

"Focus."

Gathering her thoughts under his stare, she whispered, "I borrowed a witch’s book. She was the witch I met at the fair and told my fortune. I couldn’t read it before, so I removed the soul bond. I could read it after it. There were spells in it, useful ones and it will—"

Her words faltered when Lucian’s mouth twisted faintly in displeasure and the dagger in her hand slipped.

"It was temporary, just hidden. Not to erase it... I was going to show you," she whispered and quickly muttering the incantation under her breath. She felt cold spread over her skin first and the next moment, the dark vine-like mark curled back around her neck.

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