A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 282: Do Not Fucking Touch Me!!!

Chapter 282: Do Not Fucking Touch Me!!!

Valentine waved his hand as though dismissing him and went right back to eating.

Ryan’s eyes twitched in pure anger. "You—"

"Father, please tell him to leave me alone." Valentine rolled his eyes. "Your wife dying has nothing to do with me, mon dieu! She was not my wife, but yours, so mourn her alone. If anyone here wants to join you in mourning, they are free to do so. As for me..." He raised his head, meeting Ryan’s gaze. "... I don’t give a fuck!"

He smirked.

This caused Ryan’s stomach to twist in rage. His eyes flickered rapidly, and his trembling hands instinctively moved, gripping Valentine by the collar of his shirt and pulling him up from the chair.

"YOU ASSHOLE!! What did you say again? Repeat it!!" He sent his balled fist to punch Valentine, but his momentum was halted by someone who grabbed his wrist.

Slowly, Ryan turned his head, only for his eyes to meet with Draven’s orbs behind the transparent glasses he was wearing.

Heavy disgust flickered in his eyes. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"

"Don’t lay a hand on him." Draven’s expression was calm, but the threat in his tone could be heard.

Ryan’s face was distorted in disdain and rage. He looked as though he could kill Draven at that moment if it was possible. "Take your filthy hands off me this instant!"

"Oh, I will. I really hate being near you, lest I touch you." Draven gave a nod. "But if you do as much as pluck even a single hair out of his hair, I will hurt you, Ryan. I really will so leave him alone." He let go of him, settling down in his seat.

Ryan’s hands trembled in fury, and with no other choice left, he harshly pushed Valentine back into his chair and stormed off, leaving the pavilion.

Old Master Lenort shifted his gaze to Draven.

"What was that for?" he questioned.

"What are you talking about?" Draven threw a question back at him, unbothered to spare him even a glance.

Old Master Lenort slammed his hands on the table. "Don’t look down on me, boy!"

Draven gently patted Avelina on the head, done feeding her. He finally looked at his father. "Whatever you are talking about, I do not have the slightest idea."

He shifted his attention to Avelina. "Come, let’s go."

He grabbed her hand to leave, but Old Master Lenort suddenly gripped his wrist before he could leave, pulling him back. He gazed straight into his eyes.

"I am still speaking to you, boy!" Old Master Lenort bellowed.

Draven’s expression darkened, and his lazy eyes dimmed. "Take your hands off! DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME!!!"

His tone was filled with hatred, anger, and any negative emotion possible, even to the extent that Old Master Lenort himself, Lestat, Lucian, and the wives were startled.

He breathed heavily, immediately snatching his hand from Old Master Lenort’s grip. He quickly left the pavilion with Avelina, and Old Master Lenort could only watch his back disappear out of sight.

...

Draven slammed the door of their room shut and hurried into the bathroom. He rushed to the sink and began to splash his face with water, unable to calm his heavy breathing.

Avelina appeared deeply concerned. She had never seen Draven like that before. She could hear his rapid breathing as though he was going through something out of his control—an emotion perhaps.

Slowly, she stepped into the bathroom and approached him. She stared at his shoulders, which were rising and falling in heavy, frantic breathing, and not sure of what to do, she moved closer to him.

Gently and warmly, Avelina wrapped her arms around him, hugging him from behind. "Draven, are you okay? What’s wrong with you? I have never—"

Draven instantly turned around, pulling her into a tight hug and burying his face in her neck. "Avelina...I feel very angry, and I cannot seem to stop."

"What...?" Avelina blinked.

"I don’t understand why." Draven buried his face deeper in her neck.

Avelina slightly smiled and tenderly ran her fingers through his hair.

"I think you just hate your father a bit too much; you couldn’t stand his touch." She chuckled softly, gently caressing his hair.

Draven pulled back to look at her face. "Is that...it?"

"Mhm." Avelina nodded at him. "I’m sorry you are going through this." She beamed,

Draven gazed at her and gradually took a soft breath. He lowered his head and pinched between his brows.

"Can you wait for me outside?" he asked.

Avelina gave a nod. She half-smiled at him, turned around, and left the bathroom. She shut the door and took a deep breath.

She could hear the water begin to run.

Avelina bit her lower lip and walked over to the bed. She sat down, her slender fingers caressing the fluffy white duvet that neatly covered the bed. A soft breath fled her nose, and she once again bit her lower lip.

The man who slept in this bed belonged to her, right? He was hers, was he not? Her fertile imagination knew the answer: Not yet! He didn’t belong to her yet. She had yet to make him hers, but the problem was whether he would let her.

Avelina exhaled, suddenly thinking of this man who would go to sleep on this bed, half-naked. A man who would want the touch of the duvet and the caress of fine material against his bare skin.

Avelina grabbed the duvet, feeling it against her fingers. He would come to lay on this bed soon, against this duvet.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled, her soft lashes flickering. She swallowed hard, her imagination completely running wild about what could possibly occur in that bed with a man like him. Oh, what a woman she would be in such a moment!

This made her words back then seem like the words of a fool. How could she say she would never have anything to do with vampires when there was a man such as this? When she could be in that bed, naked and entangled in him,

Such images caused butterflies to flutter rapidly in her belly.