My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 124: Did I……

Chapter 124: Did I......

Naomi was caught offguard. She hadn’t expected to actually go on a breakfast date. She was genuinely shocked.

"Wow, my love, this is so romantic," she said, her voice filled with excitement.

Zylan glanced over at her, his lips twitching into a small smile, though it was fleeting. He was pleased by her reaction, but something in his eyes held a trace of caution, something Naomi couldn’t quite place. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the simple, thoughtful gesture.

In that moment, she made a decision. From now on, she’d start calling him "love." It felt right, natural even.

"Love" she spoke softly

Zylan turned rigid, his eyes widening slightly as he glanced at her. Naomi, noticing the shift in his demeanor, felt a flutter of nervousness. But, ever the playful one, she leaned in closer, hoping to ease the tension.

"Is there a problem, love?" she asked teasingly, her voice light and filled with a challenge.

Zylan turned toward her, his mouth opening and closing, seemingly at a loss for words. Naomi couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him—so composed, yet thrown off by something as simple as a term of endearment.

Noticing his hesitation, she leaned even closer, resting her face against his shoulder as if to comfort him. "Wow, this is very cute," she murmured softly, savoring the closeness.

Zylan stiffened, then slowly spoke, his voice low and slow. "Now it’s you who can get all teasing with your husband, huh?" His words carried an odd mixture of amusement and something else—a hint of something Naomi couldn’t quite decipher.

"Yes," Naomi nodded, her smile widening. She admitted it freely, enjoying the way his usually stoic expression softened.

Zylan nodded in response, but his eyes seemed distant now, as if he were lost in thought. He spoke quietly, as though the weight of his words held more significance than the lighthearted teasing. "I need to leave today, Eaglet"

Naomi froze, confusion clouding her thoughts. What did he mean by needing to leave? No wonder something about this morning had felt off, as though he had been planning to go somewhere. Now, hearing it out loud made her heart tighten. She hadn’t realized how much she had hoped he’d stay.

She wanted him to stay.

But...

"You can’t be selfish, Naomi," she whispered to herself, the words echoing in her mind like a warning she wasn’t ready to heed.

Zylan seemed to sense her unease and quickly added, "You don’t have to worry." His voice softened, an attempt to soothe her. "I’ll be leaving after the date. There’s something urgent I need to handle, but I promise to come back early."

Naomi’s chest tightened at the thought of him leaving. She tried to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She knew Zylan had stayed with her long enough, and given his busy schedule, she appreciated the time he had made for her. She decided to be understanding, though she couldn’t completely hide how deeply she’d miss him.

She took a deep breath, forcing her voice to remain steady. "How long will you be gone?"

"It won’t take long." Zylan’s words were meant to reassure her, but there was a subtle, almost apologetic tone to them. "Let’s say three days."

Naomi blinked, processing his words. Three days was much better than a week. She could handle that. Atleast, she told herself that. She nodded in understanding as the car continued on its way toward their destination.

But as they drove, Naomi found it harder and harder to focus on the scenery outside. Her mind kept returning to the idea of Zylan leaving. It wasn’t just the distance that bothered her—it was the suddenness of it.

She shifted in her seat, her fingers lightly tapping against the window as she stared out, trying to push her worries away. But they lingered, like an uninvited guest she couldn’t escape.

*******

Meanwhile, Rylan stepped out of the bathroom and turned toward the bed. His eyes widened in surprise at what he saw. What kind of lady was this? From what he could see, the duvet he’d covered her with earlier was now on the floor, completely discarded. She had somehow managed to spread her legs wide, her position on the bed seemingly unchanged from her deep sleep. The pillows were scattered—one at the end of the bed, the other teetering on the edge, nearly falling off.

It looked like she was still asleep, but something about the scene struck him as almost too chaotic for just a simple night’s rest. He sighed, shaking his head as he walked over to the wardrobe to get dressed.

Meanwhile, Rose slowly stirred awake, feeling unusually comfortable in the bed. It was a strange feeling—one she couldn’t quite place. She instinctively patted her hands around the mattress, searching for her phone—something she always did when she was at home. Her phone was usually on top of her bed, and she would check the time as soon as she woke up. But, for some reason, with her sleepy eyes still half-closed, she couldn’t find it.

Her gaze swept around the room, trying to spot it, but it was nowhere to be seen. The room felt unfamiliar. Her heart skipped a beat as she sat up, her eyes widening. She was no longer in her own bed. She was somewhere else entirely. The memories from the previous night came rushing back in waves—vivid and disorienting.

"Shit, fuck, fuck," Rose muttered under her breath as she sprang to her feet. Her mind raced as she recalled the events. She had a terrible habit of being a restless sleeper. What had she done last night? Ohh...and Rylan had been.....shit.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She had planned to wake up early and return to her room, so it wouldn’t seem like she’d stayed on his bed for too long. But now, the worst part wasn’t just that he was gone—meaning he’d woken up before her—it was the fact that she had completely messed up the bed. The sheets were a mess, like something had happened between them.

"Oh goodness, fucking shit," she cursed under her breath, immediately trying to fix the bed. She picked up the duvet, attempting to smooth out the creases, and adjusted the pillows, trying to make everything look as neat as possible.

She couldn’t believe how freely she had slept in a stranger’s house. "Oh goodness," she muttered again. What was she doing? Maybe he was downstairs. She could take this chance to dress quickly and figure out what happened last night.

But just as she turned to leave, there he was—Rylan, standing right in front of her. His gaze was laced with sarcasm, and Rose jumped back, startled by his sudden appearance. She hadn’t noticed him earlier; how had he gotten there so quietly?

"Uh, hi," she stammered, trying to recover. She could feel her cheeks flush. "Good morning. The sun’s really bright today, don’t you think?"

Rylan raised an eyebrow, confusion flickering in his eyes. He didn’t answer her immediately. Instead, he studied her for a moment, as though trying to gauge her reaction. Before he could respond, Rose spoke again, desperate to deflect. "Let me go shower." She quickly turned to head toward the bathroom, but Rylan’s voice stopped her.

"Not so fast." His hand pointed to his neck, his expression now something between amusement and annoyance.

To her surprise, there was a visible slap mark on his skin.

Rose’s eyes widened. "You—" she started, but Rylan cut her off.

"You did this," he said, his voice low but firm. "And you’re going to take responsibility."

Rose’s eyes darted around, her mind scrambling for an explanation. Her face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh my goodness, are you sure it was me? Or maybe you scratched your neck somewhere?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She had always been a bad sleeper—no one had ever known, except Naomi, her best friend. But now, with Rylan standing there, looking at her like that, she couldn’t deny it. She sighed, giving in.

"Okay, fine," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I’m sorry, Mr. Rylan. Let me tell you the truth." She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "I woke up in the middle of the night and, you know what? I saw a fly. I tried to kill it, but I must’ve missed, and it looked like I slapped your neck instead."

Rylan stared at her for a long moment, his gaze skeptical. "So, you’re telling me you slapped me that hard and I didn’t wake up?"

Rose shrugged, trying to stay calm. "You’re a really deep sleeper, you know."

Rylan crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Says the girl who kicked and slapped in her sleep, rolled around, and messed up the whole bed."

Rose flushed with embarrassment and turned her head, unable to meet his gaze. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation, let alone with him.

But Rylan wasn’t done. "That’s not all," he continued, his tone now more pointed. "What were you dreaming about last night?"

Rose’s eyes widened. Her pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"

He turned his neck, which seemed stiff and sore. "You really didn’t notice?"

Had she hurt him while she was asleep?

To her surprise, it wasn’t just a slap mark—it was an undeniable hickey.

Rose’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at the mark on his neck. Had she done that? The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She had absolutely no memory of leaving such a mark, and her heart skipped a beat. She’d been a bad sleeper, but this? This was something else entirely.

"Did I...?" she trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper as she nervously glanced at Rylan.