My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 86: Embrace

Chapter 86: Embrace

It was already getting dark. Rose and Naomi sat in the dining hall of the mansion, their plates untouched as they waited. The air felt still, almost heavy, with an unspoken anticipation that neither of them fully understood. Rows of chefs stood silently by the walls, their hands clasped neatly in front of them, their faces blank as statues. Rose’s gaze wandered over them, curious yet wary. There was something about their stillness that felt unnatural, even eerie, but she chose to keep her questions to herself, assuming they were simply waiting for someone to taste the food first.

Her attention shifted to the dishes laid out before them, her eyes catching on a vibrant fruit salad. Its colors were a perfect medley of reds, yellows, and greens, glistening under the chandelier’s light. It was her favorite, and the sight of it instantly lifted her mood. Without a second thought, she reached out eagerly, serving herself a portion. As soon as she took her first bite, one of the chefs stepped forward, bowed deeply, and quietly exited the hall.

Rose froze mid-chew, her fork poised in midair. Her eyes widened as she followed the chef’s retreating figure, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "What was that about?" she muttered, mostly to herself, before brushing off the thought and returning to her salad.

Naomi, however, remained calm. Once she had served herself, another chef mirrored the same action—bowing silently before leaving the hall. Rose leaned closer to her friend, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Is this how it always is?"

Naomi nodded, her expression soft. "Yes." Her tone carried a finality that discouraged further questions.

Rose leaned back in her chair, her mind spinning. There was something unsettling about the whole scene, yet Naomi seemed entirely unaffected. The mansion felt like a world of its own, operating on rules she couldn’t comprehend. It wasn’t just luxurious—it was intimidating, almost otherworldly. The chefs weren’t ordinary staff; they were more like symbols of power and influence, the kind her father’s wealth couldn’t buy. For the first time, Rose realized just how small her family’s fortune was in comparison. This wasn’t just wealth—this was dominance.

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Rose couldn’t deny the food was exquisite, unlike anything she’d ever tasted before. Each bite felt like a revelation, the flavors so perfectly balanced they almost demanded reverence. Yet, she couldn’t shake the unease lingering in her chest. For Naomi, however, the mansion seemed to be a refuge—a haven far removed from the harshness of her own home. Rose wondered if her friend had found a kind of peace here, or if the calm exterior masked something deeper.

After the meal, the two friends shared a warm goodbye. Rose hugged Naomi tightly before leaving it was already getting dark her parents would be worried to death if she did not come home. Naomi watched her leave, a soft smile lingering on her lips, before heading upstairs to her room.

Once inside, she closed the door with a quiet click and exhaled. The day had been long, and all she wanted was to unwind. She slipped out of her dress and headed straight for the bathroom, picking out a black silk nightgown to wear afterward. It was long and elegant, its sleek fabric a sharp contrast to the simpler white ones she usually preferred. Running her fingers over the smooth material, she allowed herself a small moment of indulgence.

The bathwater was warm, its heat seeping into her muscles as she sank into the tub. Naomi closed her eyes, letting the tension of the day melt away. For a while, the world outside faded, leaving only the gentle ripple of water and the soothing scent of lavender and jasmine. After soaking for what felt like an eternity, she stepped out, wrapping herself in a plush towel. She went through her usual routine—moisturizing her skin, brushing her hair until it gleamed—before slipping into the black gown.

Feeling refreshed, Naomi wandered over to the bookshelf that lined one wall of her room. Her fingers glided over the spines of neatly arranged books, pausing when they reached a peculiar black book. It had no title, no markings—just plain, unassuming black. She pulled it out, her curiosity piqued, and settled into a chair by the window to read.

The first page was dense, filled with vivid descriptions of a war between humans and vampires. The details were so strikingly real that she found herself doubting whether it was fiction. She told herself it had to be, yet as she turned page after page, a strange sense of familiarity stirred within her. The battles, the alliances, the betrayals—it all felt too close, too personal, as if she’d lived through it herself.

Time slipped away unnoticed. The room grew darker as the moon climbed higher in the sky, but Naomi remained oblivious, her focus entirely consumed by the words on the page. Then, a name appeared—a name that sent a shiver down her spine. Each time her eyes passed over it, a fluttering sensation filled her chest. It was irrational, she thought, to feel this way over a name in a book, yet she couldn’t help it.

She was so engrossed that the faint sound of a door closing startled her. Her head snapped up, her heart pounding. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was well past midnight. Shaking her head, she set the book aside and turned off the small reading lamp. Exhaustion was playing tricks on her, she decided. Climbing into bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin, hoping sleep would come quickly.

But as she lay there, one word escaped her lips: "Zander." She whispered it softly, her voice barely audible, yet the sound seemed to echo in the quiet room. A chill crept into the air, raising goosebumps on her skin. It wasn’t fear she felt, but something else—an odd sense of recognition that made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t explain.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Naomi sat up and glanced around the room. Her gaze froze on the window, and her breath caught in her throat. Standing there, cloaked in the moonlight, was Zylan.

He didn’t move, his figure both imposing and hesitant. The soft glow of the moon highlighted his disheveled hair, making him look almost ethereal. His sharp features were framed by shadows, his presence commanding yet for the first time.....vulnerable. Naomi’s heart raced, a mix of emotions swirling within her. She couldn’t tell if it was relief, anger, or something deeper.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Zylan’s lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. His intense gaze flickered, betraying an internal conflict. Naomi, unable to bear the silence, stepped forward. Then, without thinking, she leapt into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms circling his neck as she clung to him tightly.

Zylan stiffened, his body rigid with shock. His wide eyes betrayed his disbelief. This wasn’t what he had expected—not after what had happened the night before. He had braced himself for anger, perhaps even rejection. But the warmth of her embrace shattered the walls he had built around himself. Slowly, hesitantly, his trembling hands moved to hold her back.

"Why did you leave without telling me?" Naomi’s voice was muffled against his neck, trembling with emotion. "You’ve been gone so long... I was scared."

Zylan remained silent, his throat tightening as her words pierced through him. Naomi pulled back slightly, her golden eyes searching his. She cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head to meet her gaze. "Why aren’t you saying anything?" she asked, her voice softer now, tinged with worry.

He couldn’t speak. The weight of her words, the warmth of her touch—it was too much. A war raged inside him, leaving him mute. When Naomi began to pull away, his arms tightened around her instinctively. He buried his face in her shoulder, his voice finally breaking through the silence.

"I’m so, so sorry, my wife." His words were barely a whisper, heavy with regret.

Naomi blinked, confused. "What are you apologizing for? I should be the one saying sorry," she murmured.

"All I want is for you to tell me anything no matter how small," she continued softly. "I’ll listen, I promise... I’m here, always." Her words seemed to ignite something in Zylan, and he pulled her closer, his grip firm yet gentle.

A quiet laugh escaped her lips as she tried to lighten the mood. "It’s fine. I’m just happy you’re back. You have no idea how worried I was." Then, with a playful smirk, she added, "If you ever stay away that long again and make me worry, I promise I’ll smack your a**."

Zylan’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open slightly. Was this his shy wife speaking? He pulled back to look at her, his heart thundering in his chest. Naomi cupped his face again, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones as she teased him with a small smile.

"Sleep with me, Hubby," she said, leaving him utterly stunned.