A dance of barbed words

Raphael was in no hurry.

He had already dismissed the human servant from his mind and presence. If she had an ounce of sense, she would follow his warning and never set foot in the family quarters again.

He turned ready to leave, but then, he heard footsteps.

Faint, but distinct. Light, deliberate, echoing softly against the polished floors.

Raphael exhaled slowly, lazily rolling his shoulders before turning around on his own leisure. He had already guessed who it was. The scent of roses and expensive perfume arrived before she did, laced with that all- too familiar aura of arrogance.

It was Elise.

His cousin stepped into view, the dim light catching the delicate shimmer of her midnight - black gown. The fitted bodice accentuated her slender figure, and the flowing skirts billowed slightly as she walked, the fabric whispering against the floor. Her black hair was twisted into an elaborate updo, with loose tendrils framing her strikingly beautiful face.

And then, there were her eyes.

Unlike his own void- black- irises, hers burned a deep, piercing red - eyes that held centuries of privilege and superiority sharpened by an innate cruelty that lurked beneath her carefully curated smiles.

Her lips curled into something resembling amusement as she came to a stop before him, tilting her head in mock curiosity.

"Raphael," she greeted, her voice smooth as silk but carrying an unmistakable edge. "Fancy meeting you here."

Raphael raised a brow, folding his arms across his chest. "Yes , Elise." What an unbelievable coincidence, running into you in our home."

Elise ignored the sarcasm, adjusting a diamond bracelet on her wrist as the conversation bored her already. "I expected you to be out by now. Or are you suddenly fond of lingering in the hallways?"

Raphael smirked. "Perhaps I was enjoying peace before you arrived."

Elise rolled her eyes. "How charming."

Her gaze flickered over him again, assessing before, she let out a soft sigh. "I don't suppose you've heard, but Tasha and I will be off to the soiree at lord whitmore's house. Not that you even care for such things, but it's going to be the event of the season.

Raphael made a thoughtful hum. " Ah, yes. Another gathering of overdressed aristocrats clamoring for attention and empty conversations. What an absolute privilege to be invited."

Elise gave him a withering look. "I wouldn't expect you to appreciate it, after all, socializing requires effort, and you've never been particularly good at entertaining people, have you?"

Raphael placed a hand over his chest in mock offence. "Oh, but Elise you wound me. And here I thought my charm was legendary."

She scoffed. "Your arrogance is legendary, Ralph. There's a difference."

His smirk widened. "What can I say. Not many can stand my honesty, cousin."

Elise pressed her lips into a thin line. She took a step closer, her heels clicking against the floor. "I only tolerate you because we share blood. But even that has limits."

Raphael was barely affected by her words. Actually, she never fazed him.

"I can't wait for the time you snap, dear. It will be quite a day for all of us."

For a brief moment, they stood there, locked in silent battle of wills. Then, Elise exhaled dramatically and waved her hand. "I haven't the time for you games today. I have actual engagements to attend." She turned on her heel, her skirt swirling behind her.

On the other side of the estate, Larissa had finally found the library. She stood at the entrance, momentarily frozen by the sheer magnificence before her.

The room stretched wider and taller than she had imagined, with towering shelves of rich mahogany reaching up toward an intricately painted ceiling. A grand chandelier, heavy with glistening crystals bathed the space in warm golden light, casting soft shadows between the endless rows of books. The air carried the scent of aged parchment, ink, and a faint trace of something floral- perhaps lavender, hidden among shelves.

She took a hesitant step forward, her fingers brushing against the spine of a leather- bound book. The texture was smooth, well preserved despite it's age. Everything here spoke of wealth, history and intellect far beyond her reach.

As she wandred deeper into the maze of books, her mind drifted elsewhere- to him.

The vampire.

The killer.

She clenched her hands into fists, the memory of blood and terror flashing through her mind.

One thing that she was now aware of, it was that he was closely related to senior Hamilton, otherwise, what would he be doing in the family area..