My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 52: Forbidden Fruit

Chapter 52: Forbidden Fruit

Naomi chuckled bitterly, her eyes fixed on the floor, as though the very ground beneath her might swallow her whole. An idiot, she whispered again, her voice thick with regret and resignation. The words felt like a self-imposed sentence, the weight of them sinking deep into her chest.

It was as if she couldn’t escape the cruel thoughts that relentlessly circled her mind, thoughts she had grown accustomed to over the years. Her body felt small in the vast emptiness of the room, as if the shame she carried was too large for her fragile frame.

"Naomi," a strained voice interrupted the silence, its soft tone slicing through her like a blade. The words hit her harder than any shout could have. Despite the gentleness of Zylan’s voice, it carried an urgency she couldn’t ignore.

She didn’t turn to him. Instead, she bit down hard on her lip, feeling the sharp sting that grounded her in the moment. The pain, fleeting but sharp, was enough to keep her tethered to reality. But as the warmth of blood trickled down her chin, the sharpness only deepened her sense of shame. Her fist clenched tightly, nails digging into her skin as if she could physically hold onto the brokenness inside her. If she just squeezed hard enough, maybe it would all disappear.

Zylan’s gaze followed her, helpless. The weight of her self-loathing was crushing, and it rattled him more than he cared to admit. The words she threw at herself felt like daggers to him, each one of them cutting deeper into his soul.

He wanted to reach out, to pull her into his arms and make her stop. He couldn’t bear hearing her berate herself. Yet, he was frozen, caught in a limbo of his own emotions, unable to bridge the gap between them. He was so close to her, and yet, it felt like an insurmountable distance.

"Naomi, stop," Zylan said, his voice more urgent now, tinged with an edge of pain. He couldn’t take it anymore. His words came out sharper than he intended, but they were necessary. He couldn’t let her keep spiraling like this. The suffocating weight of her self-inflicted wounds was unbearable. He moved before she could even process his words, his feet carrying him to her in a few quick strides. He was suddenly standing right in front of her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. It was overwhelming, the warmth of his presence was too much for her, yet not enough. His gaze was dark, intense—an expression she didn’t quite understand, but it wasn’t just the anger in his eyes. No, it was something deeper, something far more dangerous.

There was a scent—sweet, intoxicating, and completely irresistible—her blood that surrounded him. It wrapped around him like a cloud, intoxicating in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

Zylan stilled as his body responded to the pull of that scent. It was almost too much to handle.

"Stop hurting yourself, eaglet," Zylan said slowly, his voice softer now, deliberate. Each word felt like it was wrapped in layers of meaning. He didn’t want to frighten her with the intensity of his emotions, but at that moment, he couldn’t help it. Naomi’s eyes were wide as she stared up at him, still processing everything. Her heart was pounding in her chest, beating faster with each second that passed. It was like she was caught in the whirlwind of his presence, and the storm was overwhelming.

She opened her mouth to say something, but her voice was lost in the sudden flood of emotions that overwhelmed her. The weight of the moment, the suffocating pressure of everything she’d been carrying for so long, was too much. It was like the very air around her had thickened, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.

Then, Naomi’s next words cut through the silence, hanging in the air between them like a curse, heavy with unspoken truths neither of them were ready to face.

"You don’t do sex because you don’t want me to have your child," she said, her voice low and strained, as though speaking the words was a struggle in itself.

Zylan’s expression faltered for just a moment before it hardened, a shadow crossing his features. His voice came out low, almost a whisper, but there was a steel edge to it. "I don’t..." He hesitated, his words fighting their way to the surface. "You have to understand, Naomi. That’s just how it is."

The words felt like a slap to her face, and yet, Naomi’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. There it was again—the harsh reality that she had known all along but had refused to admit. She and Zylan were never meant to be. That much was clear now. The desperation in her own voice stung like a fresh wound, raw and unrelenting. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t in years. But what hurt the most was how foolish she felt. How utterly ridiculous. All this time, she had let herself believe in something that was never real. And now, there was nothing left but the sharp sting of disappointment.

Naomi lifted her gaze to him, her golden eyes burning with unshed tears. But instead of the sadness one might expect, there was something darker there now—resentment. A fire that she had kept hidden deep inside for so long. It was a resentment born of unmet expectations, a frustration that had been building in her chest for far too long. For a moment, she just stared at him, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, before she finally spoke.

"You’re annoying," she said softly, her tone flat, emotionless. The words felt like they carried the weight of everything she had been holding in for so long. They were more than just an accusation; they were a confession. A recognition of everything she had tried to ignore.

Zylan’s jaw tightened at her words, but he didn’t respond. His eyes stayed fixed on her, searching, as though trying to understand the depth of the pain he had caused her. But even he didn’t know how to fix it, how to make it right. All he could do was stand there, frozen in place.

Naomi’s gaze lingered on him for a second longer before she turned on her heel, brushing past him without another word. The tension between them was palpable, the unspoken words hanging thick in the air. The distance between them seemed to grow with every step she took, even though they were physically closer than ever before.

Just as she reached the door, she heard Zylan’s breath hitch, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. The door slammed shut behind her with a deafening finality, cutting off any chance of reconciliation. Zylan stood frozen in place, staring at the closed door as though it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

The weight of everything that had just happened settled over him like a dark cloud, pressing down on his chest. He leaned back against the wall, his mind spinning. He ran a hand through his dark, damp hair, trying to clear the fog in his thoughts. The emotions swirling inside him were foreign, unsettling. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—disoriented, torn, lost.

He had always been in control, always the one who kept everything together. But now, it felt like everything was slipping through his fingers. Naomi... She was doing something to him, something he couldn’t explain. She was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, a mystery he couldn’t unravel. And yet, the more he tried to resist, the deeper he fell into it.

She was dangerous to him. He knew that. But she was also everything he couldn’t have.

With a curse, sharp and unfiltered, he allowed the words to spill out. "Shit... Fucking... Damn."

The curse echoed in the silence, a raw and unrestrained sound that felt alien coming from him. Zylan had never been the type to curse, to lose his composure. But the man he once was—the controlled, composed Zylan—was nowhere to be found. He was unraveling, piece by piece, and the cause of it all was her.

Her presence was like a forbidden fruit, one that would ruin him with a single taste. A temptation so consuming, so all-encompassing, that it would leave him starving for more, yet unable to stomach anything else. The thought of her, of the way she looked at him, the way her words cut through him... It all made his chest ache, and the truth of it settled heavily in his bones.

She was the one thing he couldn’t have. And it was driving him to madness.

His fingers dug deeply into his own flesh, the sharp sting barely registering as his claws began to emerge, slowly and agonizingly. Blood trickled down his skin, dark and warm, but he couldn’t care less. The pain was nothing compared to the torment of her sweet scent lingering in the air, tempting him, consuming him. He clenched his jaw tightly, his breathing uneven, as though the very act of inhaling her presence was an unbearable weight on his restraint.

He wanted—no, needed—the tantalizing aroma of her blood to vanish, to free him from the agonizing pull that clawed at his very soul.

A low, guttural groan escaped his lips, his voice strained and rough as he forced the words out, each syllable dripping with anguish.

"Eaglet," he groaned, his tone raw, laced with a desperation he could no longer hide, "what are you doing to me?"