Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45: Closed windows

Music Recommendation: The missing piece - Eleftherios

—

Inside the room, Ruelle changed out of her dirt-streaked, disheveled clothes with trembling fingers. Her skin felt clammy, the memory of being locked in that dark, cramped cupboard still weighing on her chest. Buttoning up her nightdress to her chin, she felt a flicker of relief knowing Lucian hadn’t seen Ezekiel’s embrace. But why had Lucian assumed she was married?

When a flash of lightning split the night, illuminating the room with harsh light, she jumped on the couch, instinctively pulling the blanket up to her chin as the rumble shook the window.

Then, just as silence settled again, the door creaked open, and Lucian stepped into the room. For a brief moment, he simply looked at her, his expression unreadable. Closing the door, he spoke, his tone even, carrying just a hint of detachment,

"I informed Blake that you are safe. You should go to sleep. It’s late, and we have classes in the morning."

Ruelle nodded. "I...yes, I was about to." She hesitated, then added, "Thank you for letting Hailey know."

He cocked his head slightly before turning away.

Ruelle took her cue to lay down on the couch, while clutching the blanket and her gaze following her roommate. She noticed him sit on the edge of the bed, pulling out the laces of his shoe, before removing it.

His hand lifted toward the candle to extinguish it, but a sudden crash of thunder shook the room, making her flinch, her heart pounding against her ribcage. His fingers paused, curling back before dropping to his side, the candle left to burn.

Just as Ruelle began to feel herself drifting, she heard Lucian say something but didn’t quite catch it. She asked just above a whisper,

"Did... did you just say something?"

Lucian’s voice, low and almost hesitant, broke the silence. "I said I’m sorry." His red eyes flicked briefly towards her, distant yet intense.

Ruelle blinked in surprise. "Is this...about the cupboard?"

"It’s for assuming things about you," he replied, his tone clipped, but he averted his gaze.

Ruelle could only guess what he meant, but the apology itself surprised her. A soft smile formed on her lips. She replied,

"It’s fine, really. I’m just glad the misunderstanding is cleared and we can be friends now."

She thought she might glimpse something almost softened in his gaze, but it disappeared as he spoke again, his tone taking on its usual clipped precision.

"Don’t mistake this for friendship. You and I will never be friends," she heard Lucian respond, the words edged with a hint of his usual guardedness. "My opinion of humans hasn’t changed, and I still count your kind to be conniving and traitors, so don’t expect anything from me," his words were firm, creating an invisible wall between them. "Go to sleep."

Ruelle couldn’t help but wonder at his tone, at the way his disdain for humans seemed deeply rooted, beyond mere prejudice. As she lay in the couch, she felt an uncomfortable warmth creep up her neck. She shivered, then pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, as her eyelids grew heavy.

Morning arrived, and Lucian had already risen, moving quietly as he dressed and prepared for the day. He slipped on his coat, casting a brief, dismissive glance at Ruelle, curled tightly under her blanket on the couch.

"One might think all that enthusiasm for study would get her up on time," Lucian muttered, reaching for the door—but then he hesitated. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features before he clicked his tongue in irritation and turned back.

"Ruelle Belmont," he called, his tone carrying its usual cool authority, "if you intend to make use of that diligent reputation of yours, you might consider waking up for class."

No she didn’t wake up. Her breathing was uneven and laboured, and his gaze narrowed, noticing the flush in her cheeks and the sheen of sweat dampening her brow. His eyes flicked back towards the door, instinct urging him to leave, but he found himself lingering instead, a crease forming in his brow.