My Vampire Beloved Husband
Chapter 97: My Kind

Chapter 97: My Kind

Naomi had read earlier about the war between humans and vampires. The black book had given her invaluable insights, prompting her to ask Zylan about things she still didn’t understand though not directly.

She was grateful she had read it—at least now she wasn’t as naïve as before. Yet, there was something undeniably strange about the book. It never indicated whether it was fiction or non-fiction. To add to the mystery, it had no author, no title, and its covers were blank. The pages, too, were as black as the cover itself, save for the legible text within. The absence of any identifying information made the book even more strange.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that the book felt less like a piece of fiction and more like a hidden, ancient truth—one that had been concealed for a reason.

From the book, Naomi had learned some key details about vampires, particularly how they differed from humans. During the war recounted in its pages, vampires had used their acute hearing to detect human heartbeats, making it nearly impossible for humans to ambush them. She also learned that vampires relied on blood for survival. Some parts of the book were abstract and hard to grasp, and some of its language was archaic, leaving Naomi to wonder whether she was truly understanding it all. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the knowledge might prove useful someday. And that thought filled her with a strange, unsettling sense of dread.

But who would have thought her husband—a man she trusted—was a vampire? Certainly not her. She had spent so much time in his presence, and yet, in hindsight, she realized she had missed the signs. Was she blind to the truth, or had she simply been ignorant of it? No, she reasoned. It wasn’t ignorance; Zylan had deliberately hidden it from her.

One particular detail from the book stayed with her: it referred to female vampires as "vampiresses." Yet Zylan had called a woman a "leek-vampire," a term that puzzled her. She had asked him about it earlier, and his initial reaction had seemed almost suspicious. His curious gaze had made her wonder if she had revealed too much about her knowledge.

Zylan’s answer came, but it didn’t fully ease her confusion. "Ladies are usually called vampires, just like men. The term isn’t gender-specific. However, in her case, she’s a leek-vampire, which makes her different. The word ’leek’ carries a deeper meaning. Because of it, she’s exempted from the traditional court and its rules. Her status as a leek-vampire sets her apart."

Naomi found his explanation intriguing. What could "leek" truly mean? The thought lingered in her mind, but another question bubbled to the surface. Her curiosity was insatiable now, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice the next question she wanted to ask. But eventually, she did. "How do you eat?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with a deep, almost unsettling curiosity.

Zylan looked at her for a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable, as though weighing how to respond. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he said, "Vampires take blood just as humans eat food." His voice was low, almost cautious, as if he were afraid of revealing too much. "As an elite pureblood vampire, I have the ability to eat normal food. Unlike half-vampires and other hybrids who can eat human food but still thirst for blood, purebloods like me can suppress the thirst by consuming human food. We can go weeks, even months, without drinking. But that doesn’t mean we don’t crave it," he added carefully, watching her closely, studying her reaction. "But it’s manageable."

Naomi leaned in closer, swinging her legs gently in the water, her eyes fixed on Zylan’s face, trying to comprehend the weight of his words. She had so many questions, so many things she still didn’t understand. But for now, she focused on what he had said. She could see the subtle intensity in his expression, and it made her feel more uncertain about her next question.

After a pause, she asked, "When was the last time you drank blood?"

Zylan fell silent. Her question made him realize something that surprised him—he hadn’t taken any blood since Naomi had arrived. It was uncharacteristic. But then, he remembered. He had tasted her blood once—indirectly. That day when she bit her lip... The memory of her taste lingered, sweeter than anything he had ever known. It had been a fleeting moment, yet it burned into his mind with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. He swallowed hard, his thoughts turning dangerously intimate. He wasn’t sure if he could bear another taste of her blood. The hunger, the craving—it was becoming harder to suppress.

Unaware of the storm brewing in Zylan’s mind, Naomi continued to look at him, her eyes filled with innocent curiosity. She had no idea how much her question affected him. Hesitant, almost bashful, she asked, "If you were to thirst for blood... would it be okay to take mine? I mean, since we’re married?"

Zylan’s eyes darkened as they drifted to her slender neck before meeting her gaze again. The intensity in his stare made her heart race in a way she couldn’t explain. This wife of his truly had no idea what she was asking. His lips parted, as if to speak, but before he could respond, the sound of her stomach growling broke the tension.

Naomi’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Why now?" she muttered under her breath, trying to avoid his amused gaze. Her embarrassment deepened as she realized how much of an awkward moment it had become.

Without a word, Zylan stood and scooped her up in his arms, his movements smooth and deliberate. Water droplets trickled from her legs, leaving small ripples in the grass she had been sitting by. Naomi’s heart skipped a beat. His strength, his tenderness—it left her breathless. "That’s enough questions for today, Eaglet," he said with a faint smile, the nickname he had given her slipping from his lips as if it were second nature. "Now, let’s get you some food."

Her face flushed even more as he held her with such gentle care, as if she were something fragile that might break if handled too tightly. His actions were so tender, so intimate, that it made Naomi’s heart race—not from fear, but from something she couldn’t quite name. As he carried her toward the wall, it opened silently before them, requiring no fingerprint or voice command this time. Naomi cast one last glance at the shimmering water behind them, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what she was feeling, only that it was overwhelming, both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Before Naomi could fully process what was happening, Zylan used his speed. In the blink of an eye, they were in the living room. He gently set her down on the sofa, his movements deliberate and careful, as though he were placing something precious into its rightful place. Naomi’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Weren’t they supposed to be heading to dinner? Why had he brought her to the living room instead? The question lingered in her mind, but she didn’t voice it. Confusion settled over her like a heavy fog as she glanced around the room, her eyes taking in the pristine decor, the polished furniture, and the quiet air that surrounded her.

Zylan sat quietly beside her, his movements so fluid they were almost imperceptible. Before Naomi could fully gather her thoughts, she heard him speak, his voice sharp, yet composed. "You," he said, raising his head slightly, his tone cutting through the silence.

It was then Naomi noticed the maids moving about the room, meticulously cleaning and re-cleaning the vases as though it were the most important task in the world. She realized, for the first time, that the maids had never directly spoken to her. They always kept their distance, their presence subtle and almost ghostly. Naomi hadn’t thought much of it before, but now, she found herself wondering why. She was beginning to feel as though she were a stranger in her own home. Everything had been so normal until now, but in this quiet moment, she could feel the strangeness of it all, creeping in like an insidious shadow.

The maid Zylan had addressed stood frozen, trembling slightly, as though caught off guard. Her gaze never met Zylan or Naomi once her head turned, and she seemed to shrink beneath his commanding presence. Naomi could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, as though something was about to snap.

"Get me a towel and a pair of shoes," Zylan commanded, his tone firm yet composed.

"Yes, young master," the maid responded, her voice calm and deliberate, a hint of submission laced in her words. Her movement was fluid, every step measured with a grace that spoke of years of disciplined servitude.

Naomi turned to Zylan, curious but uncertain. Just as she turned back to glance at the maid, she was gone. The space where she had stood mere seconds ago was now empty, as though she had vanished into thin air.

A shiver ran down Naomi’s spine. She leaned closer to Zylan, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper, "Is she... a vampire?"

Zylan’s expression turned slightly serious, the familiar smile fading from his lips. His voice grew low, almost dangerous. "Yes, she’s a half-vampire. No one here is human."

Naomi’s eyes narrowed as she froze in place. She was... she was the only human here? Even Rhea was a—was a vampire? Her mind reeled. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh at the absurdity or frown at her own ignorance. She had been living in this mansion, interacting with these people, completely unaware that none of them were human. A wave of embarrassment washed over her. How could she have missed this? How could she have been so blind to the truth?

Zylan, noticing her sudden silence, felt a twinge of concern. He leaned slightly closer and spoke, his tone calm, yet firm. "You don’t have to worry. Your assistant is well-trained and knows better than to act rashly." He spoke as though it were nothing—almost too calm, as though the dangers he was alluding to were far too common. But Naomi could see through him. That wasn’t a real smile. Not the kind that comforted or reassured.

Then, as if flipping a switch, Zylan’s expression turned completely serious. His eyes locked onto hers, his gaze intense, like a predator assessing its prey. "Vampires are far more dangerous than you think. You have to be careful around them."

He paused, his eyes growing darker, his face solemn and grave in a way Naomi had never seen before. His next words came with a finality that sent a chill down her spine.

"Especially my kind."