Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 196

Chapter 196: Whispers Of Corruption

Ruelle felt her heart stumble over Lucian’s words.

For a moment she could only stare at him with her lips parted. Slowly her gaze slid past his shoulder to the bed, and heat crept up her throat and into her face.

"You mean... in the bed?" Her voice came out smaller than she intended.

Lucian let the silence stretch just long enough to hear the tremor of her heart. Then one corner of his mouth curved, as if finding her expression endearing. His hand rose to her face, his knuckles grazing her cheek as if memorizing the shape of her blush rather than merely causing it.

"The couch might be uncomfortable," Lucian murmured, low enough to make her heart skip a beat. "I only want to hold you and sleep tonight."

She dropped her eyes before he could see how far her mind had already wandered and gave a nod, "Okay." To save herself from the embarrassment, she said, "My clothes are in the other room. I will get back..."

"That won’t be required," Lucian stated as his fingers found her scarf.

Ruelle blinked. But she had been wearing the dress since this morning and she could only guess that the stench of her father’s blood was stuck to her clothes. Unless... he meant without clothes, and she turned flustered by her own thought.

She felt Lucian unwind the scarf slowly from her neck, loop by loop, before he laid it over the back of a chair with more care than the garment likely warranted. Next came her coat. He patiently eased it from her shoulders one side at a time and it joined the scarf.

"After leaving you with your family that day, I took the liberty of moving your things," Lucian left her side and made his way to one side of the room.

He reached for the cupboard on one side of the wall and when he opened it, Ruelle was left surprised. There were clothes and things that belonged to her. Her mother’s wooden box was placed carefully at the back. She felt her eyes sting. And when her vision blurred, she apologized.

"I am sorry. I am not upset with it. I am happy... that you made space for me."

Lucian’s eyes softened in that quiet way of his, as if he understood without needing her to explain. He extended his hand towards her, and she came to him. His thumb brushed beneath her eye before the tear could fall.

"I only put your things where they belong," he said, bringing the thumb to his lips and licking the tear off.

Ruelle’s eyes widened at his gesture, her face burning. "That is dirty," she whispered.

"Your tears are sweet," Lucian replied, and his words were cemented when his eyes darkened. "Did you know that you had a faint smell wafting from you when you were in Sexton. And the scent only got more after I had marked you."

"Scent?" Ruelle asked.

Lucian hummed in response. "Like the fruit at the top of the mountains," he said, his voice dropping. "The sweetness spills from you. Sweet enough to draw me."

Before he even knew who she was, Lucian had picked up the faint scent when they had first crashed into each other in the market. After returning from the market, he had wondered why he hadn’t killed her. Because the vials she had broken were the last existing ones of Belladonna, something he had been hunting since he had heard about it.

In Sexton, he had initially chalked it up to be a perfume or oil she was using, like most of the women. But not once had he seen her use anything in the room.

And her scent stirred the darkness within him.

Since the time he had been corrupted, it had whispered through years for blood. A hunger to kill and tear people apart. He had learned to control and ignore it. But lately, since he had marked Ruelle, it whispered to devour her. To take everything until there was nothing left untouched. From her blood to her breath. The corruption side of him wanted to swallow her whole and keep her where no one could reach.

Lucian’s fingers tightened slightly at the door of the cupboard.

Ruelle resisted the urge to raise her sleeve once again to sniff herself. The last time she had sniffed her hand was when Lucian had told her to move away after he had helped her with a subject. It had made her worry that she stank.

A knock interrupted them, and Ruelle felt her stomach sink. Peyton had arrived, she thought. After all, Minister Carnifex had left the Belmont residence an hour before they did. But it was Maude at the door, carrying a tray of fruits and a glass of blood for Lucian. The housekeeper bowed and left as quietly as she came.

"The water is warm if you want to have a late-night bath," he stated, in the same even voice, though something in it made the question feel like it cost him a little more restraint than the words let on.

"I took one this morning. I will take one tomorrow," Ruelle replied. The last thing she needed was worrying about Peyton catching her naked in Lucian’s bathtub. It gnawed knowing the vampiress could pop in any moment, but she wanted to spend more time with him.

"May I?" he asked, his hands moving to the button of her dress. Her toes pressed against her other foot and she finally nodded.

Was it possible to be drunk on a person, Ruelle asked herself. Because she felt intoxicated in Lucian’s presence.

When he began unbuttoning the front of her dress, Lucian did it without hesitation, as if it were no different from untying a ribbon or fastening a glove. His expression remained calm, and unable to bear looking at his face, Ruelle’s eyes dropped to his hands instead.

The veins stood faint beneath his pale skin, his fingers long and lean as they worked each button loose with maddening patience. They looked better suited for turning pages or holding a glass of wine than for the things she had seen them do like break bones or spill blood. But they looked good even then.

She remembered those same hands at her waist, at her throat, and against her cheek. It was absurd, she thought to herself, that a person’s hands could evoke such strong emotions.

Just when her dress pooled around her feet, she felt his hand reach to her sides where the corset was tied. When his hand held the string, she cleared her throat and whispered,

"I can—I can manage the nightgown myself."

She doubted her heart could bear him stripping her down to her skin.

Lucian didn’t refute her. He only gave a small nod, as if he had been testing how far she would let him go.

She watched him saunter across the room, shrugging off his shirt to reveal his broad shoulders. But the moment his fingers moved to the front of his trousers, she spun towards the cupboard and reached for the nightgown inside the cupboard.

But some curious part of her nudged at her, and before she could stop herself, she pulled back slightly and let her eyes wander in his direction.

"It is alright if you want to look," Lucian said.

The words made her jerk so quickly that her forehead struck the cupboard. She winced, though it was the embarrassment that burned far more than the pain.

She murmured, "I am fine!"

If only the ground could open and swallow her. Or she could have drowned in the bathtub, but she would find Lucian there.

By the time Lucian stepped out of the bath with a towel wrapped around his waist, Ruelle had already changed into the nightgown and wandered to the shelves lined against the wall where the books were. She had only meant to glance at them, but the curiosity had pulled her closer.

As she went through the titles of the books, her mind drifted to what happened to her father.

She wondered where her father was right now.

Ezekiel hadn’t come home, and she had heard from her parents that he was at the courthouse. Keeping up appearances so that he wouldn’t be held as the accused. As days had come to pass by, Ruelle couldn’t help but feel, in some ways, her father and Ezekiel were similar. Not the same, because she doubted her father had killed anyone, as he was too much of a coward.

When Lucian returned a few moments later, dressed and with his hair still damp and slightly dishevelled, he came to stand beside her.

"Is this a witch’s book?" Ruelle pointed at one of the books, its spine marked in symbols she didn’t recognise.

Turning to him, she caught the sight of the damp strands falling over his forehead. Fresh from the bath, his skin still carried warmth, and she quickly looked back at the shelf before her thoughts wandered again.

"It is written in Coven," Lucian said. Being taller, he reached over her with ease and pulled the book free. "An old language pure-blooded vampires used. Most do not anymore." He placed it in her hands. "Only a few families still pass it down."

"How intriguing... I didn’t know vampires had a language of their own," Ruelle murmured, staring at the unfamiliar symbols. She flipped through it, understanding none of it. Her eyes then lifted to him and she asked, "Will you teach me?"

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