Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 49

Chapter 49: When Chaos steps in

Every flicker of torchlight seemed to sharpen the planes of Lucian’s face, casting shadows that deepened the glint of red in his eyes. His irritation simmered beneath the surface, quiet but undeniably present.

"Lucian," Anthony stammered, his earlier confidence unraveling like loose threads. His hand twitched at his side—a small betrayal of his unease. "I didn’t realise you were acquainted with the lady. I meant no disrespect."

"Leave," Lucian commanded. The single word carried an authority, the kind that brooked no argument. His lips barely moved, but the weight of his presence seemed to deepen the dimness around them.

Ruelle’s breath hitched as she watched Anthony hesitate. The vampire’s earlier bravado dissolved entirely, leaving him pale. With a shallow bow, the person retreated into the ballroom. This was her chance, Ruelle thought, easing a step back. If she could just—

"Did I tell you to leave?"

The words cut through the air like a whip, stopping her mid-step. Her shoulders stiffened, and she forced herself to turn, meeting Lucian’s intense gaze.

"You have outdone yourself, Belmont," Lucian drawled, his tone deceptively casual. Each syllable was a razor, his sarcasm laced with an undercurrent of disapproval. "What is this? An excursion? Or have you decided that failure isn’t such a heavy burden after all?"

She winced inwardly at his words. But she lifted her chin, trying to summon her composure and began, "I wasn’t—"

"Save it," Lucian interrupted, his voice sharp enough to halt her excuses in their tracks. He stepped closer, his movements predatory, like a cat toying with its prey. "Tell me, Belmont," he continued, his voice lowering to something far more dangerous. "Do you make it a habit of ignoring advice? Or is this rebellion inspired by something new?"

Ruelle’s voice wavered, "It’s not rebellion. I’m not here to—"

Lucian moved abruptly, leaning in with a fluidity that stole the air from her lungs. The sudden closeness sent a shiver down her spine, and she instinctively pressed herself against the cool stone wall. Her heart hammered as his face hovered inches from hers.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.

"Quiet," Lucian murmured, his tone dark and commanding.

His head tilted slightly, and she froze as she felt his breath brush against her neck. The sensation was fleeting, yet it sent a chill skittering across her skin. Her fingers tightened their grip on her gown as if the fabric alone could tether her to sanity.

Then, he inhaled sharply.

The sound was soft, almost faint, but it sent an undeniable shiver through her. His expression darkened as he straightened, his eyes narrowing with irritation.

"The perfume," Lucian remarked, his voice laced with disdain. "Do you even know what you have done?"

"A perfume that wears off after three hours," Ruelle replied quickly, trying to salvage some dignity. "It’s harmless."

Lucian’s jaw tightened, and a muscle feathered in his cheek. "Harmless?" he repeated, his voice low but seething with restrained anger. "Let me enlighten you, Belmont. I am guessing it has been nearly two hours since you doused yourself in that concoction. Side effects—nausea, drowsiness and sometimes fits—will follow soon enough. In this environment, those symptoms might as well be an open invitation."

Ruelle paled. Hailey had never mentioned this—probably because she didn’t know.

"What were you thinking? Walking into a room full of vampires, hoping to be bitten? Or making... connections?" Lucian’s tone dripped with sarcasm, but the question lingered in the air like a challenge.

"It wasn’t like that," she murmured, her voice faltering. "I will fetch my friends and leave this place."

"Your friends," he repeated, his voice softening in a way that was somehow more menacing. "Do they share your taste for trouble? Or are they as reckless as you?"

"No... They’re not here for trouble," Ruelle said quickly, shaking her head. "They were just curious..."

"Have you heard about this phrase, Belmont? Curiosity killed the cat?" Lucian questioned her.

"But satisfaction brought it back?" Ruelle replied innocently, which had a muscle tick in Lucian’s jaw and she went completely quiet.

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze heavy and unreadable. The tension between them was thick. Finally, he sighed, the sound more exasperated than angry.

"Foolish humans," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her. His red eyes glinted as they fixed on hers again. "Fetch your friends and leave."

Before either could say more, a low whistle echoed from the ballroom doors. Both turned as Sawyer stepped into the corridor, his easy grin widening as he took in the scene.

"Well, well," Sawyer drawled, the amusement in his tone a deliberate provocation. "What’s this? My dear friend Lucian, caught in a secret rendezvous? Now that’s something I never thought I’d witness."

Lucian’s gaze turned glacial. "You assume too fast."

"I do?" Sawyer’s grin didn’t falter. He ignored Lucian’s warning tone and turned his attention to Ruelle, his expression softening into something bordering on charming. "And who might you be, my lady?"

Ruelle froze under Sawyer’s scrutiny, her hands tightening around the fabric of her gown. "Claire," she said, the name slipping out before she had a chance to second-guess herself.

"Claire," Sawyer repeated, rolling the name off his tongue as if tasting it. "A pleasure, Claire. You should join us inside. It’s quite the night."

"She’s not staying," Lucian cut in, his words clipped, as though sealing the matter.

Sawyer raised a brow, his smirk widening. "Not staying? Already scaring this one off, Lucian?"

"I need to get my friends," Ruelle interrupted, mimicking a vampiress’s tone.

Ruelle stepped back inside the ballroom, and she glanced at the dance floor. Relief washed over her when she spotted her friends. They seemed to be enjoying themselves—at least Hailey was and they didn’t seem like they were getting off the floor anytime soon.