Chapter 7 I Was About To Listen To Promises Made By A Vampire
Elodie
By the time I reached the dining hall, night had fully settled over the manor. Tall candles burned along the center of the long wooden table, their flames flickered gently in the dim room. Shadows stretched across the walls like living things.
Roman once again sat at the head of the table. He looked as composed as ever, dressed now in a dark coat that blended into the dimness around him. If he hadn’t moved his eyes toward me, I might have mistaken him for a statue.
His gaze lingered for a moment as I stepped inside. “You found the dress,” he said.
“It was hard to miss.”
“You look lovely.” The words were simple, spoken without flourish.
They made heat creep up my neck. I was desperate to ignore the compliment as I took the same seat as last night.
Dinner had already been set out, roasted vegetables, bread still warm from the oven, and a bowl of thick soup that smelled far better than anything I expected to find in a vampire’s home.
“You’re feeding me well for a servant,” I said as I tore a piece of bread.
A nearly silent chuckle rumbled in his chest, “you’re not a servant, Elodie.”
I refused to label or acknowledge exactly what I was. Hunger was winning and I ignored the comment as I began to nibble at the food laid before me.
Roman much to last night didn’t touch the food. He simply watched me.
His gaze followed every movement, the lift of the spoon, the shift of my shoulders, my pulse beating faintly in my throat.
Satisfied, I set the spoon down. “Look at you, patiently waiting for your turn. When exactly is the perfect moment to demand someone offer their blood to you?” The answer to that would be never, but this was why I was here. This was the very thing I refused to label.
Roman placed his napkin carefully beside his untouched plate before rising from his chair. The quiet scrape of wood against stone echoed softly through the hall.
My pulse quickened immediately.
“Come here.”
“I’d rather not,” the answer burst from my mouth instinctively.
His expression didn’t change. “It doesn’t have to hurt and I suggest you shouldn’t take the hard way on this one,” he said calmly. “I promise.”
My jaw tightened, because I was about to listen to promises made by a vampire. Slowly, reluctantly, I pushed my chair back and stood. Each step toward him felt heavier than the last.
Roman waited beside the table, perfectly still, like a predator that knew its prey had already walked into the trap.
When I stopped in front of him, he reached for my wrist. Not roughly. Almost carefully. His fingers wrapped around my arm and turned it slightly, exposing the soft skin beneath my palm. “You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“Don’t pretend you care.”
There was no smile to his lips, if anything he grew more serious. “Oh, I care very much.” His thumb brushed lightly over the inside of my wrist causing my pulse to jump beneath his touch. “Relax,” he said quietly.
Just as last night, he placed his mouth to my wrist, his lips pressed into a soft kiss. Except this time, instead of taunting me, and no disruption to interrupt us, he bit down.
Pain sparked briefly, sharp and sudden, before dissolving into warmth that spread slowly through my arm. My breathing faltered, the anger draining out of me far faster than it should.
Roman’s grip tightened slightly as he drank. Not greedily, but measured. Controlled. His eyes closed for a moment as if savoring the taste.
The room felt strangely distant, the candlelight blurred at the edges of my vision. When he finally pulled away, the sudden absence made my knees weaken.
His hand caught my elbow before I could stumble. “You took too much,” I muttered weakly.
“I didn’t.” His thumb pressed gently against the small punctures on my wrist, trying to slow the trickle of blood. Roman studied my face for a long moment. Then something almost like guilt flickered in his expression. “Sit,” he said quietly.
I dropped back into my chair. My heart was still beating too fast. My pulse refused to slow even after he pulled away. Even after the bleeding lessened something warm spread through my veins, curling outward from the place where he bit me. It wasn’t pain. It was worse.
Roman stepped back forcing distance between us. For a moment we simply stared at each other. There was a change in his breathing. It became deeper. Rougher. His jaw tightened as the silence stretched.
The room felt wrong now, the candles too bright, the air too warm, the smell of the food was noxious. My skin tingled as if every nerve had suddenly awakened. “What did you do to me?” I asked.
Roman’s eyes flickered back to mine. “Nothing. I just fed.”
“That can’t be all it was.” The warmth in my chest spread lower, settling into my stomach in slow, curling waves. I hated it. I hated the way my body reacted as he watched me.
“I took very little,” he said evenly.
“You say that like you measured it.”
“I did.”
My fingers tightened against the edge of the table. “Then why do I feel like this?”
Roman didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied me. Really studied me. His gaze drifted to my throat. Then to my mouth. Then back to my eyes. Something dark moves behind his expression. “You should go to bed,” he said. The words were too quick. Too controlled.
“Why? I’m fine.” I challenged even though I was far from fine.
His jaw flexed. “You need to rest. You obviously can’t handle the blood loss.”
I pushed back my chair and stood. If he expected obedience after biting me, he was about to be disappointed. But the moment I straightened, the room tilted slightly before everything went black. For a split second I thought I could steady myself. My hand reached blindly for the table, fingers brushing polished wood. Then the floor rushed up to meet me.
Except it didn’t. Strong arms caught me before I could hit the ground.
“Elodie.” Roman’s voice was sharp, far closer than it should have been. The word echoed somewhere distant, like it was being shouted through water.
I tried to answer him, but my body refused to cooperate. My limbs felt heavy, my head lolling uselessly against something cool. His grip tightened slightly as he lifted me fully into his arms. The movement should have startled me, but that warmth still spread through my veins dulling everything. Even fear.
My cheek pressed against his chest. His heart didn’t beat. The absence of it felt strangely loud.
“You’re not supposed to pass out,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
I forced my eyes open just enough to see his face hovering above mine. The candlelight caught the sharp edges of his expression. He looked… annoyed. And concerned.
“You’re very dramatic for someone who insisted they were perfectly fine,” he added under his breath.
I tried to scoff, but it came out more like a weak exhale. Barely able to find my words, I whispered, “you bit me.”
“Yes,” he said dryly. “I did.”
The manor ceiling blurred past as he carried me from the dining hall. My head spun again when he moved, and instinctively my fingers curled into the front of his shirt. His gaze flicked down to my hand clutching the fabric.
“You’ll live,” he said quietly.
“How comforting.”
Another faint smirk tugged at his mouth despite the tension in his shoulders. He pushed open the door to the master suite with one hand and carried me inside. The bed dipped as he set me down carefully against the pillows.
The moment he released me, the room spun again. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Through the haze I saw him reach for something on the bedside table, a small cloth which he pressed gently against the bite on my wrist.
The touch was careful. Too careful for a monster.
“You should have warned me,” I whispered.
Roman paused. “About what?”
“That biting people makes them faint.”
“They don’t. Usually.” He admitted with an eerie calm before his fingers slipped from my wrist. “Get some rest.”
“You should stop ordering me around,” the words slurred from my numb lips as I fought back sleep, but eventually sleep won. The last thing I saw before my eyelids heavily closed was Roman sitting at the edge of the bed watching me like he was trying to decide something he hadn’t quite figured out yet.
