A Vampire’s Mercy

On the way, Lucian said nothing. His steps were calm, as if her humiliation held no effect on him. Yet the weight of his coat on her shoulders felt its own gravity.

Her thighs pressed tightly together as she walked, an unconscious attempt to keep any more blood from falling. Each step she carried against the polished floor felt heavier, as though it mirrored the shame, gleaming too brightly under the noon sun.

When they reached the door to his room, Ruelle watched as Lucian pushed it open and stepped inside. A hush of cool air slipped out, carrying the soft scent of old parchment and something distinctly that belonged to him.

"M–maybe I should return to the previous room," she murmured, voice small and uncertain.

"I did not know that room offered protection from vampiresses," he replied. There was no mockery in his words, only matter‑of‑fact observation.