My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 76: Species

Chapter 76: Species

Naomi smiled softly as she curtsied, completing the final step of the dance with Zylan. The delicate fabric of her gown swished lightly against the polished floor, and the fading music left a lingering echo in the air. "It was truly a pleasure dancing with you, my dear husband," she said, her voice warm yet formal, as though she spoke from a practiced script.

Zylan’s lips twitched ever so slightly, almost forming a smile—a rare gesture that sent a flutter through Naomi’s chest. "The pleasure is mine, my dear wife. Or should I say... my little Eaglet."

The nickname caught her off guard, a playful glimmer breaking through his usual composed demeanor. Naomi’s smile deepened as a faint blush rose to her cheeks. Little Eaglet. It was oddly endearing, and though she couldn’t quite place why, it warmed her heart in a way she hadn’t expected. This husband of hers was undeniably one of a kind—intimidating yet enigmatic, distant yet capable of the smallest, softest moments that could melt her resolve.

Zylan gently led her to the nearby sofa, his large hand resting lightly on her lower back, a touch that felt both protective and commanding. "Sit here for a moment," he said, his voice steady yet tinged with an undercurrent of urgency. "I’ll be back in five minutes. I have something to attend to."

Naomi nodded obediently, folding her hands neatly in her lap as she sank onto the plush velvet seat. "Of course. I’ll be waiting," she said, her tone carefully measured.

He lingered for a moment, his piercing gaze softening as he reached out to pinch her cheek lightly. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear, before turning and striding away with his usual quiet confidence.

Naomi watched him go, her heart tugging slightly as his towering figure disappeared into the crowd. Alone now, she shifted her attention to the glittering spectacle around her—the grand ballroom, with its opulent chandeliers casting a golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. The faint hum of conversation filled the air, mingling with the distant strains of the orchestra.

Her musings were interrupted by the approach of a waiter, balancing a silver tray laden with crystal glasses of wine. "Would you care for a drink, madam?" he asked politely, his tone smooth yet detached.

Naomi hesitated, her gaze flicking to the tray. The glistening liquid within the glasses seemed almost too inviting, but a warning bell rang in her mind. She shook her head quickly, her decision firm. "No, thank you," she replied, her voice steady but polite.

She couldn’t trust anything served in Zylan’s absence. What if something had been tampered with? A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled Rose’s warnings—her ever-watchful friend had cautioned her about the dangers lurking at grand parties like these. And then there was the waiter himself—he wasn’t the same one who had been serving earlier, a detail that set her further on edge.

Naomi’s unease deepened as a familiar voice broke through her thoughts. "Ah, I see Zylan has left you unattended," Damon drawled, his tone as smooth as silk.

Naomi’s posture stiffened instinctively. She looked up to find Damon standing before her, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that highlighted his striking features. His dark eyes gleamed with an unsettling mixture of mischief and intrigue.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, extending a hand toward her.

Naomi hesitated, her gaze darting around the room. Eyes were on her—curious, scrutinizing. The weight of their stares pressed down on her, leaving her with little choice. She couldn’t afford to appear rude or cause a scene. With measured reluctance, she placed her hand lightly in his.

"Of course," she said evenly, allowing him to guide her back to the dance floor.

The orchestra had shifted to a softer, more intimate melody, and the chandeliers above seemed to shimmer with a life of their own. The warm golden glow bathed the room in an almost dreamlike haze.

As they began to move in time with the music, Damon broke the silence. "You seem very fond of your husband."

Naomi met his gaze, her expression calm but guarded. "If not my husband, who else would I be fond of?" she replied smoothly, a faint smile playing on her lips. "He is a sweet and honorable man."

Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting as though her response had genuinely surprised him. He studied her intently, his gaze probing. "Hmm," he murmured, almost to himself. "You remind me of someone."

Naomi faltered, her steps nearly stumbling. She recovered quickly, her movements once more fluid, but her heart raced at his words. There was something disconcerting about his tone, something that sent an involuntary chill down her spine.

Damon chuckled softly, the sound low and almost predatory. "I see Zylan hasn’t told you," he said, his words laden with implication.

Naomi’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to remain composed. "My husband tells me everything," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "Perhaps it’s simply not the right time for whatever you’re referring to."

"Trust," Damon drawled, savoring the word as though it were a delicacy. "Such a fragile thing, don’t you think? And yet, you place so much of it in him."

Her fingers tightened slightly against his shoulder. "If you’ve asked me to dance just to insult my husband," she said, her tone cold and measured, "then I suggest we end this now."

Damon’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "My apologies," he said smoothly, though the sincerity in his voice was questionable. "You are... quite loyal, aren’t you?"

Trying to diffuse the tension, Naomi responded lightly, though her curiosity got the better of her. "I must say, you look rather young to be my husband’s uncle."

A faint, knowing smile crossed Damon’s lips. "Our species... we rarely age," he replied, his words deliberate.

Naomi’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of confusion and unease crossing her features. Species?

Before she could dwell on it, Damon continued, his tone laced with amusement. "Ah, I see you’re still clueless."

Naomi bristled at the smugness in his voice, her cheeks flushing with frustration. She hated feeling out of the loop, and Damon’s cryptic words only deepened the growing knot in her chest.

She didn’t respond, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the meaning behind his statement. Who did she remind him of? What hadn’t Zylan told her? The questions swirled in her mind, each one more troubling than the last.

After a moment, Damon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You’re curious, aren’t you? Curious about what I know. But let me give you a piece of advice: trust no one, my dear."

Naomi’s jaw tightened. "Mr. Damon," she said icily, "I suggest you show my husband the respect he deserves if you wish to receive any from me."

Damon chuckled again, though this time there was a note of sadness in his laughter. "Ah, loyalty. Such a rare quality these days."

The music began to fade, signaling the end of the dance. Naomi curtsied quickly, eager to escape his unsettling presence. "It was nice dancing with you," she said curtly before turning on her heel and walking briskly back to her seat.

As she sat down, her thoughts refused to settle. Who did she remind him of? And what had he meant by "species"?

The ballroom seemed to close in around her, the vibrant hum of music and laughter dulling into an indistinct murmur. It was as if the grand room, with its glittering chandeliers and opulent decor, had suddenly shrunk. Naomi straightened her back instinctively, forcing herself to maintain a perfect posture. She knew all too well the consequences of even the smallest slip in demeanor. The ever-watchful eyes of the elite were on her, each one ready to dissect and spread any perceived weakness. Gossip would spread like wildfire. She couldn’t let them see her shaken.

But no matter how much she tried to project an air of calm, her thoughts refused to settle. They churned inside her like a storm.

Where was Zylan?

Her eyes scanned the room again, flitting from one elaborately dressed guest to another. A sea of unfamiliar faces greeted her, their expressions varying from polite disinterest to open curiosity. She lingered on each towering figure for a moment, her breath catching briefly whenever she thought she’d spotted him. But none of them were Zylan. His absence was palpable, a sharp contrast to his usual commanding presence.

The unease gnawed at her. It wasn’t like him to leave her for this long. He’d said five minutes, and yet it felt as though an eternity had passed.

Her gaze drifted to Damon, now stationed near the edge of the dance floor. His tall, lean frame was turned slightly away as he conversed with a small group of guests. She studied him carefully, her mind replaying their earlier conversation. His cryptic words and knowing smirk lingered like a bad taste, their implications unsettling. What had he meant by "our species"? And why had he said she reminded him of someone?

Naomi clenched her fists, her manicured nails biting into her palms as she fought against the rising tide of unease. She didn’t trust Damon, but she couldn’t deny the thread of doubt he had sown in her mind. Her thoughts spiraled further, questions bubbling to the surface faster than she could suppress them.

What hadn’t Zylan told her?

She shook her head, as if the motion could dispel her doubts. No. She couldn’t let Damon’s words undermine her trust in her husband. Zylan was a sweet, honorable man. He would never—

Her chest tightened abruptly, cutting off the thought. A sharp ache bloomed in her heart, a sensation she couldn’t quite place.

And then, her breath hitched.

Her gaze had landed on a figure across the room, and for a moment, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. But no, there was no mistaking it.

It was him.

Zylan.

Under the golden light of the chandeliers, he stood out like a beacon. His tall, broad-shouldered frame moved with a grace that belied his size, his every motion exuding an effortless charm that made it impossible to look away. He was as striking as ever, a picture of perfection in his tailored suit.

And yet, Naomi’s heart dropped like a stone.

Because Zylan wasn’t alone.

He was dancing.

With her sister, Anna.