CHAPTER SIXTEEN: CONFUSION
1162 Words
The silence in the castle was no longer just quiet—it was a vacuum, sucking in warmth, color, and sound, leaving only the bitter echo of what had happened.
Lucien stood over the edge of the bed, unmoving. His gaze clung to the girl curled into herself like a dying flame. Aurelia’s breathing was faint, her lips a fragile pink, skin paler than snow, but not the kind that was gentle or pretty—she looked cold, drained, like something vital had been taken from her.
His jaw clenched. He could still hear her cries echoing in his skull, each sob like a knife. She had cried until dawn. For hours, her voice had risen through the walls like a haunting lullaby of pain. But he hadn't gone to her. He hadn't let himself. And when she fell silent, he’d assumed she had finally accepted her fate.
He thought a little punishment is okay, enough for her to listen to him, forgetting just how fragile she was, how tired she must have been after crying for so long, issuing no water or meal for her
And now, Lucien Virell—the feared, the ruthless, the untouchable—was breaking apart inside.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She was just a girl. A pawn. A transaction.
She wasn’t supposed to get under his skin.
He sat beside her slowly, the mattress dipping. Her hair spilled over the edge like ink across parchment, dark and soft. Reaching out, his fingers hovered over her cheek but stopped inches away.
What the hell am I doing?
This wasn’t him. This wasn’t who he was.
He pulled his hand back and stood up, pacing the room like a caged beast. His chest felt too tight, like something was clawing to get out. Rage? Guilt? Fear?
He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.
Lucien strode out into the hallway and ordered the maids to bring warm towels and a basin of hot water. He didn’t leave the room even once while she was being tended to. The head maid gave him a look—something unreadable in her eyes—but said nothing as she wiped Aurelia’s face and murmured quiet reassurances.
When they left, he remained.
Hours passed. Evening came again.
And then… she stirred.
A whimper.
Lucien’s head snapped around, his entire frame tense. He was seated in the armchair by the hearth, staring into the flames that had long since burned low. But that sound—so small, so weak—it was hers.
He crossed the room in two strides, kneeling by the bed.
"Aurelia."
Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she just blinked—lost in some place between sleep and pain. Then her gaze found him.
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
“Why?” Her voice cracked, barely audible. “Why did you do that to me…?”
Lucien didn’t look away. He let the question stab him.
“I don’t know,” he answered, and for once, his voice lacked all venom.
Her lower lip trembled, and she turned away from him, curling further into herself.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“You should.”
Another silence.
Then, with all the effort she could muster, she asked, “Why are you here?”
Lucien drew in a slow breath. “Because you refuse to wake up after gaining conscious for few seconds. And that…” He trailed off. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
She didn’t respond. He thought she might slip back into unconsciousness, but then—
“Do you enjoy hurting people?”
His chest tightened.
“I used to,” he admitted. “Until you.”
That made her turn back, eyes wide despite the exhaustion swimming in them.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.”
His voice cracked then. He looked away, ashamed. For the first time in centuries, Lucien Virell felt something like helplessness.
“I didn’t ask for you,” she whispered. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this…”
“I know.” He stood and turned away, pacing again. “You didn’t deserve it. But you're here, Aurelia. And I can't—” He cut himself off, jaw clenched.
She watched him, and for once, she didn’t feel only fear or resentment. She felt confusion. Because beneath the ice in his eyes, she caught a flicker—something human. Something warm.
“I wanted to hate you forever,” she whispered, tears brimming again. “But you confuse me.”
Lucien froze.
Aurelia struggled to sit up, wincing as she did. Her body ached, and her head throbbed, but she needed to say this.
“You punish me for nothing. You call me a servant. You say I belong to you like I’m a thing.” She swallowed. “But then you worry. You panic when I fall. And your eyes…” She looked at him then, searching. “Your eyes say something your mouth never does.”
Lucien stared at her.
And then he moved.
He crossed the room, bent down, and without asking—without giving himself time to stop—he gathered her into his arms.
Aurelia gasped softly. He was cold. Always cold. But now, he felt steady.
He walked to the fireplace, set her down carefully on the thick rug, then sat behind her and pulled her back against his chest.
She stiffened—but didn’t move away.
Lucien reached out and drew a thick fur blanket around them both. He didn’t speak.
Neither did she.
Together, they watched the fire.
The silence that hung between them this time wasn’t suffocating. It was tentative… hopeful.
His hands were still calloused, strong, deadly. But they rested lightly on her waist. Protective. Careful.
“I don't know how to be kind,” he whispered into her hair. “I never learned. Not after what the world did to me.”
Aurelia tilted her head slightly.
“What did it do?”
Lucien hesitated.
“Took everything. Gave me power in return. Made me a monster to survive.”
She turned her head and looked up at him, their faces inches apart.
“I don’t think you’re a monster.”
“You should,” he replied. “But I won’t stop you from staying. Even if you hate me tomorrow. I’ll… try.”
That made her blink.
Lucien Virell, the infamous vampire CEO, the untouchable ruler of shadowed empires—just said he would try.
She reached up slowly, placing a hand on his chest.
“Trying is more than anyone ever did for me,” she whispered.
The fire crackled. The world outside faded.
And in that room, wrapped in warmth and each other, something fragile and dangerous began to take root.
Not love.
Not yet.
But maybe something close to it.
Something that, like fire, could warm—or destroy.
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- Writer
