My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 75: See Us

Chapter 75: See Us

The last thing Naomi remembered was her parents being taken to the hospital. And now, here they were, standing as though nothing had happened. Wasn’t Anna supposed to be in reverend school?

A knot tightened in Naomi’s stomach, unease clawing at her. She clutched Zylan’s arm a little tighter, her fingers trembling slightly as she processed what she was seeing. What could they possibly be doing here?

Little did Naomi know, their presence at the ball was nothing more than a pretense. Her father, ever concerned with his reputation, had undoubtedly orchestrated this appearance for his carefully crafted public image.

Zylan, who had noticed Naomi’s sudden change in demeanor, leaned in closer, his deep voice steady and calm.

"Eaglet, Are you okay?"

Naomi nodded quickly, forcing a faint smile. She couldn’t afford to let her emotions show—not here, not now. Her golden eyes darted back toward her family, who blended seamlessly into the crowd of elites. Yet, their faces stood out vividly to her, as though burned into her mind. They might have been hidden to others, but not to her. Not when they were her family.

Zylan’s sharp eyes swept across the room, briefly pausing as a faint frown tugged at the corner of his lips. His jaw tightened, an almost imperceptible reaction that hinted at a buried tension. Had he seen something—or someone—that unsettled him? But just as quickly as the expression appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual composed, unreadable demeanor.

"Come," Zylan said softly, guiding her away. His movements were fluid, deliberate, as though shielding her from unseen eyes. He led Naomi to a secluded corner, a space that felt private yet intentionally crafted to overlook the grandeur of the ballroom.

The atmosphere shifted as they settled into the intimate space. Soft lighting illuminated the polished table, casting a warm glow that contrasted the grandeur of the chandelier-lit ballroom. Naomi sat stiffly, her thoughts still swirling around her parents’ unexpected appearance.

A waiter approached them with a tray of drinks, his posture respectful but attentive. Zylan’s gaze shifted briefly, sharp and deliberate. With a slight nod from him, the waiter removed the glass of alcohol meant for Naomi and replaced it with a simple glass of orange juice.

Naomi exchanged a brief smile with the waiter as he handed her the drink. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice soft.

Zylan smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth curling upward. "I wouldn’t want my wife tipsy before the ball is over," he teased, though the serious undertone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

Naomi couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound carrying a hint of her nerves. She took a sip of the juice, its sweetness grounding her, though her thoughts remained half on the event and half on the unsettling sight of her family.

Before she could dwell further, a voice from behind broke the moment.

"Long time no see."

The words sliced through the air, sending a chill down Naomi’s spine. She froze, her fingers tightening around the glass as Zylan’s aura shifted, growing darker. He turned slightly, his broad shoulders shielding her as a man approached them.

Naomi’s gaze flickered up, her breath hitching. The man bore a striking resemblance to Zylan, though there was something about his features—so sharp, so polished—that unsettled her. His eyes, however, held a glint of amusement, a sharp contrast to Zylan’s steady, controlled presence.

"Your wife is truly beautiful," the man said, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. His smile widened as his gaze lingered on Naomi, making her feel oddly self-conscious.

Zylan’s hand tightened slightly around her waist, pulling her closer. The protective gesture wasn’t lost on Naomi, and she found herself leaning into him instinctively.

"Damon," Zylan said at last, his voice low and clipped.

The man tilted his head slightly, his smile unwavering. "Not the expression I expected after seeing your uncle," he remarked, his tone light, almost playful.

Naomi’s heart skipped a beat, confusion flashing across her face. Uncle? Her gaze darted between the two men. The resemblance was undeniable, but the title left her reeling.

"What’s going on?" Naomi whispered, her voice barely audible.

Damon’s attention shifted back to her, his smile softening just a fraction. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Naomi," he said smoothly, the formal address laced with something she couldn’t quite place.

But the unease tugging at her refused to dissipate. Why did Zylan’s uncle look so young?

Before she could question further, the soft strains of the orchestra filled the room, signaling the start of the ball. The haunting melody wrapped around them, momentarily cutting through the tension.

Damon’s expression shifted, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I’d like to have a dance with you, Mrs. Naomi," he said, his tone light but commanding. "By the way, I’m Damon."

Naomi’s lips curved into a polite but reserved smile. "Thank you for the invitation," she replied, her voice warm yet firm. "But I’d like to have my first dance with my husband."

For a brief moment, something flickered in Damon’s eyes—something unreadable—but Naomi missed it. Zylan, however, didn’t. His expression hardened subtly, and his grip on her waist tightened just enough to reassure her.

"That wouldn’t be a problem," Damon said quietly, his tone carrying an edge of authority.

Naomi, sensing the underlying tension but choosing to ignore it, rose gracefully from her seat. Zylan immediately followed, his hand finding hers in a seamless motion. Together, they made their way toward the ballroom floor, where other couples had already begun to gather.

But as they moved, Naomi couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Her gaze flickered across the room, and that’s when she saw it—her sister.

Anna stood at the far end of the ballroom, partially concealed by the crowd. Though she wore a mask, it did little to hide the disdain etched across her face. Naomi could tell Anna had recognized her, and the feeling wasn’t mutual in a good way.

Anna leaned toward their mother, whispering something that Naomi couldn’t hear. Her mother, ever poised, leaned in closer, her expression unreadable as she whispered back. Naomi’s eyes trailed to her father, whose commanding presence loomed over them. He said something sharp, his lips barely moving, but whatever it was caused both Anna and their mother to lower their heads in what appeared to be chastisement.

A gentle squeeze of her hand pulled Naomi back to the present. She glanced up to find Zylan watching her, his gaze steady and reassuring.

As they reached the center of the ballroom, the lights dimmed, casting a soft, golden glow over the glittering space. The music swelled, its rhythm enchanting and beckoning. Zylan turned to face her, his dark eyes softening slightly.

"Shall we?" he asked, his tone as smooth as silk.

Naomi hesitated, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I... I can’t really dance," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zylan’s lips curved into a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry," he said gently. "I’m with you."

Taking her hands in his, he guided her into the rhythm of the music. His movements were confident and fluid, his touch steady as he led her effortlessly. Naomi stumbled slightly at first, unused to the intricate steps, but Zylan’s hold on her was firm, grounding her.

As they swayed across the floor, he twirled her suddenly, the motion catching her off guard. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he pulled her back into his arms, her heart pounding in her chest.

"What are you doing?" Naomi asked, breathless.

Zylan’s smirk deepened, his expression a mixture of playfulness and authority. "Trust me," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety command. "Just follow my lead."

Naomi nodded hesitantly, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink as she tried to match his effortless movements. At first, her steps were clumsy, betraying her nerves, but the steady rhythm of the music and Zylan’s guiding presence began to calm her. With each passing moment, the tension in her shoulders melted away, and she surrendered to the flow of the dance. Their movements soon intertwined like an unspoken melody, fluid and seamless.

A faint smile curved her lips as she glanced up at him. Emboldened by the moment, she whispered playfully, "Good thing no one’s watching us too closely."

Zylan’s smile widened briefly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, they darkened, a shadow of intensity flickering through his gaze. "That’s where you’re wrong," he said softly, his voice measured and deliberate. "More eyes are on us than you think."

Naomi froze, her lighthearted expression giving way to unease. His words, though spoken gently, carried a weight that pressed heavily against her chest. She blinked, trying to decipher the meaning behind them. Even in the dim glow of the ballroom, the seriousness in his tone was unmistakable.

A shiver ran down her spine, her body instinctively stiffening under his piercing gaze. She wasn’t sure what unsettled her more—the warning woven into his words or the enigmatic look in his dark, unyielding eyes.