My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 141: Ready To Be Mine

Chapter 141: Ready To Be Mine

Zylan fell silent for a moment, surprised by her words. Of course, she had caught him off guard—but only briefly. Then, with his usual charm, he let a slow grin spread across his face before speaking.

"I’ll be very excited to hear your wish," he said, his voice smooth yet laced with something unreadable.

Naomi lowered her gaze, pushing the salad around her plate before serving herself a portion. After a brief hesitation, she passed the bowl toward him. She had only said those words earlier to make him stop talking, but she had forgotten one thing—this was Zylan. He always found a way to turn the tables, always had a trick up his sleeve to keep others on edge.

As soon as Naomi placed some salad on her plate, Zylan took the bowl and served himself as well. Then, instead of eating right away, he waited—watching.

His dark eyes held a glint of amusement, but there was something else in them, something deeper. He had a way of observing people, of making them feel as though he could see beyond their words, beyond their very thoughts.

Naomi noticed his lingering gaze and finally picked up her spoon.

Zylan leaned in, his voice smooth and teasing. "How is it?"

Naomi met his gaze and repeated, "It’s good. We did well."

Zylan’s smile widened as he puffed up his shoulders slightly, an expression of exaggerated pride crossing his face. Naomi shook her head, giggling. The way he acted, one would think he had prepared the entire meal by himself.

If someone hadn’t known better, they might have assumed he had done all the work—not both of them together.

Truthfully, he had only done the cutting and followed most of her instructions, yet he carried himself as if he were the head chef. Naomi couldn’t help but laugh again at his antics.

As Zylan took his first bite, he let out a satisfied sigh before saying, "Who knew my wife was such a great cook? In fact, you’re the best I’ve seen so far."

Naomi raised a brow, her lips curving into a smirk. "Of course, I’m the best so far, and I’ll continue to be the best you’ll ever see."

Zylan chuckled, shaking his head. His wife was becoming more comfortable with him—exactly what he wanted. One of the things he had hoped for was finally happening.

He wanted her to be at ease with him. To trust him.

"Now you’re making me want to reward you even more," he said, his voice laced with intrigue. "You now have two rewards."

Naomi glanced at him, curiosity sparking in her eyes. Two rewards? What kind of reward? Was he planning to give her a gift?

She hesitated before asking, "Is it like a gift?"

Zylan shook his head, his lips twitching as if he found the question amusing. "More like a blessing."

His words caught her off guard.

A blessing?

Did he just say that?

A slow smile spread across Naomi’s lips. She didn’t know why, but for some reason, she found herself eager to know what he had planned. The anticipation made her heart race, her mind stirring with endless possibilities.

"When will you reward me?" she asked softly.

Zylan leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "When we get back home."

Naomi nodded, excitement bubbling within her.

Home.

The word held a certain weight now.

As Naomi lifted her glass of apple juice for a sip, she finally asked, "Is this your favorite juice?"

Zylan looked at her, his silver eyes holding a flicker of curiosity before he countered, "Is this your favorite juice?"

Naomi shook her head. "No, it’s not my favorite."

She hesitated, twirling the glass slightly in her hands before continuing. "My favorite juice is grape juice, but I can’t have it because you’re..."

Her voice trailed off, her lips pressing together as she realized what she had been about to say.

Zylan tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction.

Naomi quickly bit her lip before adding, "But this juice is good."

Zylan knew exactly what she meant.

She had learned earlier that he didn’t drink grape juice. But what she didn’t know was that he wasn’t avoiding it out of preference—he was avoiding it because he had to.

If only she understood the real reason.

Still, he appreciated that she was considerate enough to avoid it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

Sometimes, it was good to make small changes for the people who mattered.

"Grape juice is nice," Zylan said, steering the conversation elsewhere with a casual tone.

Naomi glanced at him before asking, "What about you? What’s your favorite juice?"

Zylan was silent for a moment before replying with a grin, "I don’t have a favorite drink. I can take anything—as long as my wife likes it."

Naomi’s cheeks flushed at his words. She quickly looked down, picking up a piece of chicken and focusing on her food to hide her reaction.

This man.

He knew exactly what to say to fluster her.

As something finally clicked in Naomi’s mind, she hesitated before asking softly, "About the marking... why do vampires mark?"

Zylan’s hand paused mid-air, his fingers wrapped around the glass of water. His eyes flickered toward her before he picked up a piece of chicken, bringing it to his lips.

Naomi’s gaze stayed on him, watching the slow movement of his mouth as he chewed.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Then, finally, Zylan exhaled deeply.

"The reason why..." His voice was low, almost hesitant. "The reason we do that is to show that the other person belongs to us. If I were to mark you... it would mean you belong to me."

His silver eyes locked onto hers.

"Forever."

Naomi’s heart skipped a beat at his intense words, but she quickly masked her reaction, lowering her gaze.

"Do you mean... like a mate bond?" she asked, trying to sound casual. "What if... they stop loving each other?"

Zylan’s expression darkened. His fingers tightened slightly around the glass, his grip firm.

The silence stretched between them again, heavier this time.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"You can call it something like that... but the bond goes deeper."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering.

A mark intensifies everything—the love, the desire... even the pain. If one mate were to die, it could affect the other... sometimes even kill them. But..." Zylan’s voice softened slightly, his gaze unwavering as he looked at her. "It depends on the decision of the vampire."

Naomi’s throat felt dry, the weight of his words settling deep in her chest.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the napkin resting on the table, dabbing her lips in a slow, deliberate motion.

So marking was more than just a symbol.

It was a connection. A permanent one.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as she lifted her gaze to him. "How come you’ve never told me this before?" she whispered.

Zylan leaned back, swirling the glass of water in his hand. His movements were controlled, but she could see the hesitation flickering behind his eyes.

"I wanted to tell you... at the right time." His voice held a sincerity that made her chest tighten. "My wife... sometimes, I don’t know how to explain these things to you."

My wife.

The words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of warmth and uncertainty coiling within her.

The room fell into silence again, save for the faint clinking of cutlery against porcelain. The dim glow of the chandelier overhead cast soft shadows across Zylan’s face, accentuating the sharp lines of his features.

Naomi lowered her gaze to the table, her mind spinning with thoughts she had never dared to entertain before.

A mark.

Forever.

She swallowed hard. The idea of permanence, of belonging to someone so completely, both terrified and intrigued her.

Would it change things between them? Would she still be the same?

Her fingers curled slightly around the napkin in her lap as doubt crept into her mind.

But wasn’t this what she wanted? To be his? To belong to him in a way no one else ever could?

Slowly, her lips parted, and her voice came out barely above a whisper.

"What if... I say I want you to mark me today?"

The moment the words left her mouth, a tension filled the air, thick and suffocating.

Zylan’s grip on the glass tightened, his expression unreadable. The light in his eyes darkened, shifting into something she couldn’t quite place—something raw, something dangerous.

"Naomi," he murmured, his voice laced with a warning.

Her heart stuttered.

She had known, of course, that marking was significant, but she hadn’t realized just how much weight it carried for him.

"I mean it," she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "If this mark really ties us together, then why wait?"

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked as if he were battling something within himself. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he set his glass down.

"You don’t understand what you’re asking for." His voice was quieter now, yet no less intense.

Her pulse quickened.

"Then make me understand," she whispered.

Zylan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked at her, truly looked at her, as if searching for something—uncertainty, hesitation, fear.

But all he found was determination.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.

And then, he leaned forward, his voice barely more than a breath.

"Are you truly ready to be mine, Naomi?"