My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 41: Let Me In

Chapter 41: Let Me In

The shock that washed over him quickly transformed into something more profound—a mix of disbelief and, for some strange reason, amusement. Naomi’s suggestion was so utterly beneath him that he could hardly process it.

As Zylan stared at her, his mind raced to grasp the absurdity of her words. No one—ever—had dared to question his strength, let alone suggest such a preposterous action. Call the police? The idea was laughable. He had faced his fellow purebloods, survived brutal battles that left countless others dead or shattered, and he stood here unscathed, unbeaten. Yet she thought he should call upon mere humans—beings even half-blood vampires could outmatch? Damn, he thought, staring at this innocent little wife of his. Was she serious right now?

With each passing second, Zylan’s gaze grew colder, his usually impassive face betraying none of the fury that simmered just beneath. But his narrowed eyes revealed just enough for Naomi to sense a shift in the air—a silent warning that she was unaware of the storm she had just stirred.

Anger should have been his natural reaction, yet a laugh nearly escaped him instead. He held it back, of course. Zylan was far too composed to let himself be so openly amused. His face remained unreadable, but something flickered in his gaze—a glint of intrigue, a glimmer of something bordering on amusement, which he quickly masked with an air of indifference.

For a brief moment, his eyes softened, and the corner of his mouth tugged upwards in a smirk—a rare expression that only surfaced when he was genuinely intrigued or mildly entertained. Naomi missed it, still caught up in her own thoughts, oblivious to the subtle shift in his demeanor.

He rested his face against his hand, leaning back slightly in his chair with a posture that exuded both confidence and control. His gaze locked onto hers, steady but carrying a new intensity. Her unease was almost palpable; he could feel her nervousness radiating from across the room. She was blissfully unaware, but she had made a grave error in underestimating him.

Breaking the silence, Zylan spoke with a calm, controlled tone, each word carrying an undercurrent of challenge. "So, tell me," he asked, his voice steady yet layered with tension, "do you really think he’s stronger than me?"

Naomi froze, the weight of his question sinking in. Her mind spun as she processed her own words, realizing the unintended insult. She hadn’t meant to undermine him, but in her moment of panic, her fear had overtaken her. She opened her mouth to respond, but her voice faltered under his unwavering gaze.

"No," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible as she shook her head. "You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met."

Zylan raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze studying her intently. Something about her response didn’t quite sit right with him. It wasn’t the admiration he was used to receiving, but something else—something far more complex. Wait, he thought, why did she say ’no’ when she had—? This wife of his was driving him insane. Was she playing games with him? He couldn’t be sure, but one thing was clear: she was unlike any woman he had ever encountered.

His mind was still reeling from her words, as he struggled to understand her peculiar logic. He’d never before encountered someone who questioned his abilities so openly, let alone someone who thought so little of them that they’d suggest he needed help. Call the police? His brow furrowed again at the absurd thought. He had bested purebloods in combat, emerged unscathed from battles that few could survive, and now she wanted him to call for help—rely on humans, whose power paled even beside half-bloods? And yet, this little wife of his had the nerve to... Damn. he thought again, still astonished. Was she truly this naive?

Yet, as his lips curled into a smirk, he found himself almost proud of her brazen defiance, as irritating as it was. If only this wife of his knew that, in her strange way, she had just managed to compliment him.

Naomi’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft but laced with hesitancy. "I thought you had... umm, you were hurt?" She hesitated, searching for words. "You sounded... pained earlier."

Zylan blinked, taken aback. The earlier groan? His mind reeled, realizing what she was referring to. She had interpreted his frustration as pain. The tension she sensed was a result of his own inner turmoil, not any physical weakness. He was annoyed at himself, but for a completely different reason—for making her worry in the first place. And here he was, believing she doubted his strength.

Zylan was undeniably powerful; in fact, no one needed to witness him fight to understand that. But here he was, being questioned in ways he had never anticipated. His gaze flickered as he raised an eyebrow. Wait, his mind raced, but he should be glad she even allowed him to sit rather than her cowering in fear by his presence. She was stronger than he had thought—for her to still speak to him after that incident. This woman was truly maddening. Was she playing with him? Impossible. Zylan Reed couldn’t be toyed with, but this wife of his—she was dangerous in ways he hadn’t yet grasped.

Despite himself, he was fascinated. She was unpredictable, unintentionally testing his patience and composure in a way no one else ever had. And yet, here he was, unsettled by her mere words.

Before he could delve further into his thoughts, the sound of the doorbell interrupted, snapping him back to reality. Zylan stood, his movements fluid and effortless, and pressed a button near the wall. The door creaked open, revealing three figures who stepped inside, their presence signaling a new Chapter, a beginning of something he hadn’t planned for.

Zylan’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second as he glanced back at Naomi, offering her a rare, almost imperceptible nod of reassurance. He’d handle what came next for her sake. This was no time to let petty frustrations cloud his resolve.

****

Meanwhile, back at the mansion, another scene was unfolding.

Rose stood at the large gate, shouting at the two men standing guard. Their faces were impassive, their towering figures unfazed by her loud protests. Despite her attempts, the men barely registered her words, their cold, unblinking gazes unmoved.

"I’m her best friend!" Rose yelled, her voice slicing through the tension. "I came in peace! I want to see her! It’s been so long since I last saw her. And I... I didn’t even get to go to her wedding..."

Her frustration was evident, but she pressed on, determined. "Look, just go in and tell her that Rose is here."

Despite her pleas, the guards remained indifferent. One of them finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "No matter how long you stay here, we won’t let you in. Stop wasting your time." He scoffed. "If you like to talk so much, why not become a journalist?"

The insult hit her harder than she expected. But Rose was not one to back down easily. She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin in defiance as she stared them down.

"You, Mr. Potato Sack," she said, her voice dripping with mockery, "if you wanted to be strong, why are you standing at a gate? Or are you just a... gatekeeper?"

The man’s face tightened, his eyes darkening as he registered the insult. What was wrong with this woman? Didn’t she have any manners?

The other guard beside him was just as stunned, clearly unused to dealing with a woman so brazen and unapologetic. Rose was either completely insane or more dangerous than she looked.

"What did you say?" the first guard growled, his voice low and filled with menace.

Rose shivered, but she refused to back down. Her voice remained steady, her eyes narrowing with a sly smile. "I can’t remember, Mr. Gatekeeper," she replied, sticking out her tongue with mock innocence.

The two guards exchanged looks, clearly taken aback by her audacity. They were accustomed to threats and challenges, but something about Rose’s bold, playful yet serious defiance unsettled them. Before they could react, a chilling voice sliced through the air from behind her.

"What is going on here?"

Rose froze, instantly recognizing the voice. She knew it all too well—the voice that could command silence without raising its volume, that exuded authority in every syllable. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Rylan’s gaze was fixed on Rose, his expression unreadable as he awaited her answer.

With barely contained relief, she turned to him, feigning a dramatic sigh. "Thank goodness you’re here. Tell these two charming men to let me in."

"That’s not what I asked." His voice grew colder, each word sharper than the last. Rylan was familiar with handling difficult people, but this woman, Rose, had a unique way of getting under his skin.

Feigning innocence, Rose continued, "Oh, about that—I told these cute bodyguards I came here to see my lovely friend. And guess what they did? They threw my bag! Look!" She pointed toward the ground where her bag lay, her face twisted in exaggerated indignation.

The guards stood in silent disbelief, stunned by her audacity as she blatantly twisted the truth. Rose’s bag had simply slipped from her tired arms, yet she spun a tale with such ease that the two men felt like pawns in her game.

Rylan’s gaze shifted to the guards, his expression questioning. Both men shook their heads, visibly uneasy.

"Uh... the lady is lying," one of them finally spoke, his tone laced with confusion and frustration.

Rylan remained silent for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a single, commanding tone, he broke the silence.

"Let her in."