Chapter 25: A Lord I Should Not Desire
{IRIS}
Lord Val dropped my hand as though it burned him, stepping back, putting distance between us with the swiftness of a man who did not trust himself too near the flame.
"It worked." His voice was restrained, thick with the effort it took to keep it even. "The scent of your blood no longer calls to me." A pause. "To us."
He would not look at the blood staining my palm. He would not glance at the pink-tinged water pooling around me. His gaze hovered somewhere above, never lowering beneath my shoulders, never wandering, as though any further might cost him dearly.
My heart hammered as I clutched my wounded hand to my chest. "T-thank you."
The words fell into a silence so intense it seemed to echo.
Candlelight flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows over his face, hollowing his cheeks, sharpening the angles of his jaw. His eyes glowed faintly, a cold, silver luminescence that pierced through the gloom.
I swallowed, needing to break the tension before it swallowed me.
"H-how is everyone?" I asked, my voice smaller than I intended.
"Asleep," Val replied. "I placed the household under a compulsion. All of them—save Sebastian."
Of course. Sebastian. He must have been of higher rank, his will strong enough to resist being so easily subdued by my blood.
Guilt twisted through my stomach, coiling tight. "I am sorry, my lord. I never imagined the scent of my blood would cause such—"
"Cease apologizing."
The rebuke cut through the air like a knife. Not cruel, yet sharp, leaving no room for argument.
"You are a werewolf," he continued, his gaze steady upon me. "And an Arcane user besides. You possess more strength than the rest of them combined. Do not ask forgiveness for what lies beyond your control."
My mouth fell slightly open, words failing me.
No one had ever spoken of me like that. All my life, strength had been something I chased and never caught, something others insisted I lacked—a flaw, a defect, a reason to be cast aside. A weak omega. A mistake.
Yet here he stood, an ancient predator cloaked in power, looking at me as though I were not a liability but a force in my own right.
As though I were capable.
As though I mattered.
Warmth spread through my chest, quiet but steady, like dawn creeping over a field that had only ever known night. It smoothed over old fractures, mended places I had not realized were wounded.
For the first time, I did not feel like a burden in wolf’s skin.
I felt—if only for a breath—like I could be more.
"T-thank you," I managed, my voice breaking around the words.
"Clean yourself." His tone softened, but only just. "I shall have more [Blood Veil] vials delivered to your chamber. Use them whenever your monthly blood comes . . . or should you bleed unexpectedly. Don’t worry, one vial lasts 24 hours."
There was a faint edge to his words—a quiet urgency, a reminder of how close disaster had brushed past us.
Before I could offer any response, he was gone once more, vanishing with that same terrifying, effortless speed.
The silence he left behind was heavier than before.
I remained in place, staring at the doorway as though his shadow still lingered there, as though the air itself carried the echo of his presence.
A minute passed. Then another. Only when the water began to cool did clarity return—and with it, a sudden, horrifying realization.
I was naked.
A strangled gasp escaped me.
My nightgown lay in tatters from the earlier attack, little more than shredded fabric plastered to my skin. Soaked through, the thin material clung to every curve, every line of my body. The cold air brushed over me, drawing my nipples taut, pressing visibly against the translucent cloth.
There was no way—no possible way—he had not seen.
My face burned as I sank deeper into the water until it lapped at my collarbones, folding my arms over my chest in a feeble attempt to hide what had already been exposed.
Embarrassment coiled hot and tight in my chest.
Yet beneath that mortification, another feeling stirred, darker and far more infuriating.
Disappointment.
He had not reacted.
Not a flicker in his expression. Not a stolen glance. Not a stutter in his movements. No lingering look, no hint of desire, no sign that the sight of me had affected him in the slightest.
Nothing.
And he had not drunk my blood since that first time.
I had thought that was the reason he had brought me into his manor—that I was meant to serve as his personal blood source, a living chalice to be kept close at hand.
Yet he kept pulling away.
Avoiding the very thing his kind was bound to crave.
My fingers curled against my arms, nails pressing crescents into my skin.
Was I so undesirable, then? So unappealing that even a starving vampire lord could look upon me—my blood, my body—and feel nothing?
The thought lodged like a thorn in my chest.
I let myself slip lower, until the warm water swallowed my ears, until the world became distant and muffled. My whisper bled into the ripples, carried away by the bath that had seen far too much tonight.
"Am I truly that undesirable . . . ?"
For a long moment, I remained beneath the surface, letting the water ripple over my ears, muffling the torment of my own thoughts. The candles flickered above me, their reflections wavering like dying stars across the bath.
When I finally resurfaced, the air felt colder, the shadows deeper—stretching long fingers across the marble floor as if to claim me.
Above me, the tower windows groaned softly beneath the cold wind, a lonely sound that echoed how hollow I felt. Every doubt, every sting of insecurity lingered like frost in my bones.
How cruel, that the one man who terrified me most... was also the one whose indifference hurt the deepest.
I shook my head
What foolishness had taken hold of me?
Was I truly so desperate as to yearn for the touch of a vampire? A Vampire Lord no less?
Or was my heart still so fractured from Lorcan that I mistook Lord Val’s cold presence for warmth?
Either way, the reasons were wrong—pitiful shadows of longing masquerading as desire.
I reminded myself that I was naught but sustenance to him, a vessel of blood and nothing more. His to protect only because my life served his needs.
I must not forget my place.
I must serve him well... and purge these treacherous stirrings from my heart.
