Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 86

Chapter 86: Twenty days

Heat crept up Ruelle’s neck and she shook her head too quickly.

"No. That is not—I do not..." Her words tangled between her tongue and worry. "I am not saving anything for him."

Did Lucian think she spoke with the prince to climb the social ladder? Someone desperate enough to cling to royalty?

"I wasn’t trying to do anything like that," she went on despite him never asking. "Things just happened this morning. His hair was stuck in glue, he couldn’t see, and I used oil—"

"Belmont."

The single word was enough to bring her words to a halt. His lips pressed into a thin line. Not in displeasure. He stated, "I wasn’t accusing you. You don’t have to explain yourself to me."

Ruelle’s cheeks looked flushed as his intense gaze fixed itself on her. Yet, something quiet sat in her chest, tight and unspoken. The fear that had crawled in last night refused to disappear.

Against the music and the chatter, her lips moved, and though she didn’t say it aloud, Lucian caught it. For a moment, something unreadable flickered across his expression.

’Are you... angry at me?’ She didn’t want him to resent her.

"Why is it that the first place your mind goes is self-blame?" Lucian’s voice dropped a fraction, steady and unbearably calm. He raised his hand slightly between them. "Don’t see yourself so poorly."

On the other side of the room, Prince Edward craned his neck and spotted Ruelle standing before Lord Slater’s younger son. From his view, Lucian wore a severe expression as ever, while Ruelle had turned red. Edward’s brows drew together.

"Instructor," he called out in earnest concern, gesturing dramatically for the vampiress to come to him quickly. "I think my partner is being scolded. She looks like she’s about to cry."

"Prince Edward," the instructor replied flatly, giving him an exasperated look, "there are already several students crying. Perhaps Your Highness would like to arrange handkerchiefs for the entire class next time?"

"Of course, I can. Wait—are you being sarcastic?" Edward asked narrowing his eyes, but the instructor had already begun to walk towards a pair of students in the back, where one was limping. He turned to his attendant, "Hermes!"

"Yes, Prince?" The attendant bowed his head.

Edward raised his hand, drawing a line on his neck. He ordered, "See it be done."

The attendant reminded him, "Your Highness, the King has pardoned instructors and students, unless it is—"

"Do you want to die?"

"...me included." The attendant cleared his throat.

With the music filling the ballroom, Ruelle realised she had been standing quietly.

Before the ballroom instructor would notice them standing still, Ruelle lifted her hand and placed it into Lucian’s. His palm was warm against hers, his fingers naturally folding around her hand.

The music that floated was older and refined, like silk draping around them. Since she had no prior experience in this dance, she became self-conscious. She was worried about failing because she had glanced at the others before, and the groundlings mostly looked stressed.

"You’re tense," his voice murmured, low enough it was meant for her alone.

"I’m trying not to step on you," she whispered back. "I have short legs..."

Lucian simply stared at her before he asked, "So?"

"...so I might slow you down," Ruelle informed him before he could point it out to her.

"You won’t. Follow me," he said at last, his hand adjusting on her back.

The tempo of the music increased, becoming rich and achy. Ruelle’s fingers tightened around Lucian’s shoulder slightly without her realising it.

Lucian guided her forward first. His presence wasn’t loud or overwhelming. It was steady, drawing her into a rhythm she didn’t know she had the ability to follow. She stepped back as he advanced, then forward when he retreated. Her skirt swept like water when she moved with him.

Despite the hall filling with chatter, laughter and tension, she found herself breathing easier. Trusting him.

"Thank you for last evening. For defending," Ruelle’s words were soft.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He then replied, "You shouldn’t be thanking me for that. It should never have happened to you in the first place."

"Still," she said gently, "thank you."

Then a faint, almost sheepish smile tugged at her lips. She murmured, "Maybe if people knew the Crown Prince and I were somewhat acquainted, they might behave better."

"People don’t behave better," Lucian said quietly. "They just get better at pretending."

Ruelle nodded faintly, as though she already knew and she sighed. She murmured more to herself, "Sometimes I wonder if things will ever change."

"What do you want to change?" Lucian’s tone turned serious.

"Just like all the Groundlings here. To have a better life," Ruelle replied. She then smiled and added, "Hailey said I finally have a shot in it after what she heard in the dining room," and she shook her head.

Lucian’s hand tightened faintly at her back, which went unnoticed by her. He said nothing, but his silence carried a weight to it.

Ruelle had never thought of Lucian moving with music. Lucian Slater belonged to the quiet shadows, to a world where warmth didn’t dare exist unless he allowed it. And yet right now, every step he took seemed to breathe life into the air around them.

He twirled her again, quicker this time. The world rushed in a blur of light, velvet walls and sweeping dresses before she spun back to face him. The distance between them closed.

His hand slid higher along her back in guidance, her heartbeat stumbling as her body moved instinctively to his lead. And when he leaned forward and she bent back beneath his hold, the movement drew him into her world and stole the air from it. Her eyes subtly widened at the action.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify