116 Not a Vampire, Werewolf, or Human
Sunlight poured through the window, washing over the tangled couple. Ophelia had slept her best in a long time. She was the first to wake up, her heart clogging her throat at the sight of him. Nestled in his arms, Ophelia tenderly slid her hand from his jaw to his neck. In his sleep, Killorn was defenseless, but his taunt brows implied otherwise. Jaws clenched, grip tightening, Killorn refused to let her go even amidst his exhaustion.
Ophelia knew Killorn deserved the rest. She didn't dare to wake him up, as he had barely slept a wink throughout the entire journey from the empire. Uncertainty pooled in her stomach.
With great struggle, Ophelia slipped out of his vice and replaced her silhouette with a pillow. Her lips twitched, wondering if she should give him a stuffed animal to hug in the morning, for his limbs immediately wove around the pillow. The cold air slapped her skin as she hurried to grab a gown to slip over her head, ribbons undone. Ophelia stepped out in time to see a startled Janette carrying a bucket of morning water, toothpaste, and other necessities.
"The Alpha's asleep," Ophelia whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. "Let's get ready in a different room."
"As you wish, my lady," Janette murmured, guiding the lady to the room next door. Lord knew when the man woke up, he'd search for her immediately. Ophelia sat down and allowed Janette to do her work.
"The fortress guard spotted an approaching carriage from the distance bearing the colors of House Eve, my lady," Janette explained, patiently combing through Ophelia's tangled and slightly wet knots.
Ophelia's grip tightened on her lap as she knew who had rushed all the way here. A few days ago, she requested her father's audience. Only he had answers to her identity and mother. She intended to get to the bottom of everything. No matter what it took.
- - - - -
Ophelia could barely stomach her breakfast. She was riddled with anxiety, her vision trembling to focus on the door handles leading to her father. With an exhale, she entered, her heart pounding in her ears. The particles in the air slowed as Aaron Eves calmly rose to his feet and turned. His palm paled with each passing second on his cane.
The lines were deeper on his face, the bags darker under his eyes. Ophelia had almost forgotten the sun spots lining his skin, and the depth of his voice.
"Ophelia, my darling girl." Aaron hobbled in her direction, but Ophelia raced towards him. She embraced him tightly, as his stature stumbled upon her weight, a behavior that had never occurred before.
"Papa!" Ophelia whispered, the weight leaving a bad taste in her mouth. The man who did everything to protect her, but all of his attempts failed. Was it the thought that counted? The intentions that came from the heart, but failed in execution?
"You've become… a woman now," Aaron murmured, returning the embrace, as he sensed life returning to her cheeks. She had never shined as bright in his eyes, as he picked up on every part of her. The shimmer of her silver locks, the flicker of lavender in her eyes, and the rush of blood on her face.
"S-sit!" Ophelia gushed, taking a seat directly beside him with a nervous smile. Aaron's arms quivered as he lowered back onto the soft, yet firm velvet couch. His attention continued drifting to the makeshift luxury of this house that paled in grandeur of House Eves, yet intimidated every bone in his body. The hair stood on the back of his neck, a cold sweat dripping down his spine, despite the dancing flames of the fireplace.
"I've come with questions," Ophelia didn't miss a beat, but her heart skipped one. "A-about my mother. I want to know e-everything…" Aaron took a slight pause, adjusting his palms upon the cane. He could hardly take his eyes off the startling young woman in front of him. He couldn't fathom the thought. How long had it been since she was no longer a crying little girl in his eyes?
"I knew one day you'd ask about her," Aaron responded calmly. He licked his lips, feeling the crack of his skin. "I was going to tell you the truth when you turned eighteen, but then you married Killorn…" Aaron's throat tightened. "And now, you're twenty." He bowed his head. "I didn't even tell Roselind about your mother, not that she remembers much of her. Everything will be confusing at first, with your sister being two years older than you."
Ophelia tilted her head, curious.
"But first," Aaron continued. "I must confess what you're about to hear will change everything—how you'll view Roselind, your grandfather and grandmother."
"I'm ready," Ophelia stated, wondering what would be so alarming.
Aaron inhaled. Warning bells rang in his head, his bones frozen, and his heart clapped against his chest. The darkest of dread plunged into him, and he felt it before he saw it.
The doors to the waiting room banged open with a vigor that sent men to their feet instantly. Aaron rose, despite his bad leg. An instinct trained into creatures who knew they were prey.
Ophelia remained seated, despite her blank expression.
"Alpha Mavez," Aaron bristly addressed, his features growing grim. Killorn strolled through the doors, his frigid aura filling every corner of the enormous space. His attention swept beyond the frail man and towards his wife. She sat there, in all of her glory, her violet skirts gathered like flowers by her waist. She smiled at him, radiating with energy that he had drained last night.
"Y-you've come just in time," Ophelia greeted, her chest light as a feather upon seeing his blank stare. Was he mad at her for leaving early? Was he concealing his emotions? She couldn't concentrate on anything, but the glory of his rough features, hardened by battles of men and monsters.
"My P-Papa was just going to tell me about my m-mother," Ophelia finished.
Killorn said nothing. He closed the distance to his wife, with the same elegance as a predator circling a prey. He sat down and like second nature, draped his arm on the couch. He invaded her space, yet touched not a single part of her. Aaron watched, as Ophelia leaned back, her rigid spine softening at the presence of her husband. He wondered if the couple knew how smoothly their bodies aligned against each other, in perfect sync.
"M-my Papa," Ophelia insisted to Killorn with a slight frown.
"Lord… Eves," Killorn commented with a slight nod in acknowledgment. Truth to be told, as a werewolf, he ranked above humans. He'd never need to stoop low to greet the lesser race, even if the man was a King.
"Since we're all gathered," Aaron sniped as he took his seat again. "I shall tell you all that you wish to know."
Killorn raised a brow, relaxed and rigid at the same time. He could feel excitement radiating from Ophelia. He watched her fingers tighten on her lap, her fingertips whitening as she moistened her lips.
"Let us start from the very beginning then," Aaron decided, narrowing his attention on the couple. The three of them cramped upon one couch. He blamed the husband, too possessive to even see where he went wrong in this entire relationship. Then again, Aaron realized, both of them failed to protect the only thing that mattered to them—Ophelia.
"To the morning of snowfall and the appearance of a woman with hair white as snow and eyes of amethyst… to my wife who claimed to not be a vampire, werewolf, or…" Aaron swallowed. "Human." [5/5] This chapter concludes the end of the mass release! Tomorrow, updates will resume to 1-2 chapters c: Xincerely
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