My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 51: A Fool

Chapter 51: A Fool

As if struck by lightning, Zylan abruptly pulled away. Naomi stared at him, shocked, her heart racing. His hands ran through his hair in frustration, a motion that seemed almost desperate. Naomi blinked, unsure of what had just happened. She had barely processed the overwhelming sensations from before when, without warning, he scooped her up effortlessly. His arms were strong, but the way he placed her in the tub was almost delicate, as though he feared breaking something fragile.

His movements were swift yet careful, as if he were trying to avoid any further temptation. She couldn’t help but watch him, her mind reeling. She had been so close—so close to giving in to everything he was offering. And yet, just like that, he pulled away, and she was left in the wake of his sudden decision.

Zylan turned on the warm water, the stream filling the tub with a soft, gentle hiss. Naomi could hear the sound of the water splashing against the porcelain as he muttered to himself, "That’s enough." His voice was low, strained, as if speaking more to himself than to her. Naomi couldn’t quite make sense of it. His words sounded like a command, but the way he spoke—like he was trying to reason with himself—only made her more confused.

Naomi’s lips parted in surprise. She didn’t know how to feel—happy that he had stopped before things went too far, or sad that he had pulled away so suddenly. A part of her felt a strange relief that things hadn’t escalated, that they hadn’t crossed a line she couldn’t undo. But another part of her... part of her felt something else. Something heavy. Something that hurt in a way she couldn’t describe.

Anger was out of the question; how could she possibly be mad at him? He had always been so careful with her, so controlled. So why did this sudden shift feel like a betrayal?

"Oh heavens, save me," she whispered, half to herself, half as a silent plea. She didn’t know what to do with the whirlwind of emotions that were rising inside her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, as her gaze followed him. His back was to her, but she could feel the tension radiating from his body, every inch of him coiled tight, as though he were battling some unseen force within himself. Zylan walked toward the shower, his movements tense, his shoulders rigid. It was like he was carrying the weight of a battle within himself—one that she couldn’t understand.

Zylan turned on the shower, the sound of the water cascading over him filling the room. The warm stream fell over his hair, down his chest, and across the chiseled planes of his abs, gliding down his skin in slow, hypnotic rivulets. Naomi’s mind raced as she stared at him, transfixed by the sight. Was he angry with her? Had she done something wrong? Her eyes drifted over his body, but she quickly forced herself to look away, afraid of what she might see or feel. She didn’t know what to make of the heat building in her chest or the strange fluttering in her stomach.

Little did she know, Zylan wasn’t angry at all. He was trying to calm himself, trying to push back the overwhelming emotions and desires that threatened to consume him. The ache in his chest and the tightening in his lower body made it hard for him to think clearly, and the cold shower was his last resort to regain control. He could feel her presence behind him, the scent of her—sweet, intoxicating, and maddening—lingering in the air, making it almost impossible to hold onto his composure.

Naomi’s breath hitched as her eyes lingered on him for a moment too long. The way the water glided down his body was mesmerizing, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away, even though she knew she should. It was only when the cool water on her skin finally snapped her back to reality that she dipped her face into the now-filled tub, submerging herself momentarily. She stayed like that for a few moments, the warmth of the water soothing her as her mind spun wildly.

When she finally lifted her head, droplets clung to her lashes as she blinked, stealing another glance at him. Zylan’s blonde streak was becoming more visible, the water falling on it, making it shimmer like gold. She noticed that the blonde part of his hair wasn’t entirely visible; it was only a streak, barely visible, but now it shone clearly as the water darkened the rest of his hair. Naomi’s chest tightened as she looked at him. The realization hit her like a freight train. Why had he kept that part of himself hidden from her? Why had he concealed something so intimate? She felt a pang of hurt, wondering what else he was hiding from her—how much more she didn’t know.

But then the thought hit her—what was she even expecting? She needed to stop expecting anything from him. The more she delved into it, the more she realized how many secrets he had. Secrets that might shock her to her very core—things she probably didn’t want to hear, things that could break her, things she might never be able to unlearn.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the tub, the soft porcelain cool against her skin. Another wave of uncertainty washed over her. Naomi couldn’t deny it anymore—the truth was staring her in the face. Zylan hadn’t married her out of love. There was something else at play, something far deeper and more complicated than what she had first imagined. She had no idea what that reason was, but she was sure it wasn’t love. Not the kind of love she had hoped for, at least.

She had been foolish, naïve. She had almost given herself to him completely, without knowing the full story. She had trusted him, and now she was wondering if she had made a terrible mistake.

A low growl escaped his lips, the sound vibrating in the air, sending a shiver down Naomi’s spine. His head tilted forward, his palms pressed flat against the tiled wall, as the water continued to cascade over him, seemingly washing away some of his inner turmoil. He looked as though he were in pain, fighting an invisible battle. Naomi couldn’t help but stare at him, her heart aching for him, even though she didn’t fully understand what he was going through. She knew that he was fighting something—fighting a war within himself—and the sight of him struggling was almost unbearable.

Naomi pressed her lips together, her emotions in turmoil. She had been the one to push him away at first, demanding distance, trying to protect her heart. But now... now she was the one who wanted him close. Too close. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on her. The very man she had tried so hard to distance herself from was now the one she wanted more than anything. And she knew, deep down, how dangerous that was.

She couldn’t afford to want him like this. It was reckless, foolish even. Yet, despite all the warnings inside her head, Naomi found herself moving toward him. Her mind was racing, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. Was it because of her presence here? Because she was close to him? That’s why Zylan hadn’t yet stripped himself. He was still wearing his pants, a small but significant detail. It seemed almost symbolic, as though he was holding back in some way, as if he was trying to distance himself from her, even though his body was telling a different story.

Naomi stood slowly, each movement deliberate as she walked toward the towels. Her thoughts were swirling in a chaotic storm, but one thought kept replaying in her mind—what had happened while she had been asleep? What had transpired between them? Her mind grasped at the fragments of memory, trying desperately to piece them together. But then, something clicked. A moment of clarity.

Her eyes widened in realization. She had told Zylan that she wanted him. The words echoed in her mind like a taunt. She had said it, and now it felt like an indelible truth. A truth that made her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had never been the type of woman to speak her desires so openly, yet there she had been, vulnerable, exposed, and desperate. She quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, hoping to cover herself from the sudden wave of shame that washed over her.

But then, as if everything had fallen into place, Naomi froze. Her heart stopped as she remembered what Zylan had said—what he had told her the night before. "I don’t do sex." His words echoed in her ears, loud and clear. Had she been nothing more than a game to him? A distraction to fulfill his desires? Had she been nothing more than a temporary fix for his needs? A momentary diversion?

Her stomach twisted at the thought. She had let him see her—vulnerable, exposed. She had almost given herself to him completely. This man... the one she had once despised, the one who had almost taken everything from her, the one who had nearly killed himself... the one who had insulted her time and time again. He was the only man who had seen her this way. This vulnerable. This exposed.

She had been a fool. A big, fat fool.

"Fool," Naomi whispered to herself, her voice barely audible as she bit on her lower lip. The words hung in the air like a weight she couldn’t escape. Little did she know, Zylan had heard her. Her self-deprecation struck him like a physical blow. His body stiffened at the sound, the deep ache in his chest intensifying. He could smell her—sweet and intoxicating—her blood, faint but maddening. Despite his great tolerance to blood, being an elite pureblood with the ability to go without feeding for months, the scent of her blood overwhelmed him...Damned, what was happening to him these days? Why couldn’t he control himself around h...her?