My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 70: Impatient

Chapter 70: Impatient

Naomi didn’t know why, but her heart began to thud loudly in her chest. The sound seemed so intense that she feared it might echo through the stillness of the dining room. She couldn’t fathom what was happening, yet her cheeks warmed with a faint pink hue creeping across them. She bit the inside of her lip, trying to calm the inexplicable rush of emotions, but disbelief gripped her tightly. Could it really be happening just as she had asked about him?

Her flush deepened, her hands tightening around the fork as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. The room suddenly grew unnervingly quiet, and she became hyperaware of the faint sounds around her—the muffled rustle of clothing, the soft clatter of utensils being moved. The air was thick with anticipation, and Naomi couldn’t shake the feeling that something monumental was unfolding, something she wasn’t fully prepared for.

Then, the quiet was broken. Naomi’s eyes darted up briefly, catching a glimpse of the chefs who had stood in perfect formation moments ago. Without a word, they began to move in unison, their footsteps barely audible on the polished floor. She watched in confusion as each one bowed in a synchronized manner before silently retreating from the room.

Even Rhea, who had been standing at the corner of the room, lowered her head respectfully. "Mrs. Naomi," Rhea said softly, her tone reverent yet cryptic. There was something in her voice—something Naomi couldn’t quite place—that sent a chill down her spine.

Naomi blinked, unsure of what to make of the sudden change in atmosphere. Rhea didn’t offer any explanation; instead, she gracefully turned and exited, leaving Naomi alone at the table. Her lips parted slightly as if to call after her, but no words came.

What’s going on? Naomi wondered, her mind racing. Did Zylan give them some kind of signal? If he did, she had missed it entirely.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her next bite of food, forcing herself to maintain an air of composure. Was she nervous? She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and see him, even though she was very much aware he was the one. The tension in her shoulders grew heavier with each passing second, her instincts screaming at her to react, yet she remained frozen.

Instead, she focused on her plate, pretending to eat as though nothing had changed. But the pretense was fragile at best. Her fork scraped softly against the porcelain as she picked up another bite, her movements precise yet mechanical. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but even that felt like a struggle.

And then, she heard it.

Footsteps again.

They were faint at first, distant, but with each passing moment, they grew louder, each step measured and deliberate. The sound echoed in the vast dining hall, every click of polished shoes against the floor amplifying the rapid thudding of her heart. Her grip on the fork tightened until her knuckles turned white, but she didn’t dare turn to look.

Her pulse raced uncontrollably. What is wrong with me? she thought desperately, her heart pounding harder with each approaching step.

Finally, the footsteps came to a halt, the air thick with anticipation. For a moment, there was only silence. Naomi clenched her fist beneath the table, trying to steady herself, her other hand still clutching the fork.

And then, a deep, velvet-smooth voice broke the stillness.

"It seems my presence isn’t being celebrated," the voice said, laced with quiet amusement.

Naomi froze. The sound of his voice washed over her like a wave, sending a shiver down her spine. Her breath caught in her throat as the familiar tone wrapped around her, rich and smooth, leaving no room for doubt. It was Zylan.

She didn’t dare look up, her body betraying her desire for control. The sound of a chair being pulled out snapped her from her thoughts. Her peripheral vision caught the deliberate way he moved—calm, confident, as if he owned the space. He sat beside her, his movements unhurried yet precise.

Naomi’s heart raced even faster, and she struggled to maintain her composure. His presence was suffocating in the most inexplicable way. She felt his gaze on her without even looking, an almost tangible weight pressing down on her.

He crossed his legs with a casual elegance, the gesture as authoritative as it was nonchalant. Everything about him exuded control, from the way he carried himself to the way he seemed to command attention without uttering another word.

Naomi forced herself to continue eating, though her hand trembled slightly as she picked up another bite, and her heart wasn’t any calmer. She felt his eyes on her, burning into the side of her face, and it took every ounce of willpower not to react.

Finally, she mustered the courage to glance up, her golden eyes meeting his striking gaze for a fleeting moment. "Welcome back," she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

Zylan didn’t reply immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on her, unyielding and intense, making it impossible for her to look away even though she desperately wanted to. Her breath hitched, and she quickly lowered her eyes, focusing once again on her plate.

Just as she was about to take another bite, her hand faltered. She set the spoon down slowly, her fingers brushing against the cloth napkin. Picking it up, she dabbed at her lips, trying to mask the nervousness that threatened to consume her.

Zylan tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His voice broke the silence again, calm and measured. "Hmm, you seem... uninterested."

Naomi froze at his words. The way he said it, so calm yet laced with a subtle edge, felt like a challenge. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or testing her, but either way, she had no idea how to respond.

She remained silent, hoping he would let it pass. But, of course, he didn’t.

"I didn’t expect such a lackluster reaction," he continued, his tone softening, though the teasing edge remained. "Especially since you were asking about your husband."

Naomi’s cheeks flamed instantly. Her golden eyes widened slightly as she stared at her plate, unable to meet his gaze. He had heard her. Somehow, he had heard her.

Oh no, she thought, mortified. Her fingers clenched the napkin in her lap, and she bit her lower lip hard, trying to suppress the wave of embarrassment flooding her.

A rich chuckle escaped Zylan’s lips, the sound low and smooth, resonating in the quiet room. Naomi’s blush deepened further, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unsure of how to salvage her dignity.

Desperate for a distraction, she reached for her glass of orange juice. Her hand trembled slightly as she brought it to her lips, the cool liquid offering little relief from the heat radiating from her face. She took another sip, hoping to calm herself, but her nerves refused to settle.

What she didn’t realize was that Zylan was watching her intently, his eyes never leaving her face. He found her reactions fascinating—the subtle tremor in her hand, the way her lashes fluttered as she drank, the faint pink still tinting her cheeks. It was as if every movement she made was designed to capture his attention, and he was more than willing to give it.

There was something oddly satisfying about observing her like this. The way she tilted her head slightly when she drank, the delicate curve of her fingers around the glass—it all felt strangely captivating, as though it had been orchestrated just for him.

Naomi set the glass down carefully, her movements slow and deliberate. She still refused to look at him, her gaze fixed on her plate as though it held the answers to her swirling emotions.

The silence between them was heavy, charged with an unspoken tension that neither seemed willing to address. Zylan leaned forward slightly, resting one arm on the table. His presence was overwhelming, a palpable force that Naomi couldn’t ignore no matter how hard she tried.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice softer this time, almost contemplative. "You’ve changed, Naomi."

Her head snapped up at his words, her golden eyes wide with surprise. What did he mean? Before she could muster a response, his gaze dropped to the table, and he reached for the glass of wine that had been placed before him.

Naomi swallowed hard, her thoughts racing. She couldn’t bring herself to ask what he meant, the emotions swirling inside her too chaotic to put into words. She felt a strange mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and curiosity, all blending together into a storm she couldn’t escape.

Lowering her gaze once more, she pretended to focus on the food before her, though her appetite was long gone.

And then, he spoke again, his voice teasing yet laced with an edge of authority.

"I don’t feel welcome. My wife didn’t even give me a welcome kiss," he said, his tone smooth and deliberate.

Naomi’s head snapped up, her golden eyes wide in disbelief.

"How about you do that now?" he continued, leaning in slightly. His gaze was unwavering, his presence all-consuming. "This husband of yours is very impatient."

She finally turned to him in disbelief. It was then she realized Zylan’s hair color had changed—the blonde was no longer there. His hair was now fully ink-black. Was that why he left? Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

Zylan then spoke again, bringing her back to the moment.

"Wifey, still waiting?"