Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 34: Is this a gift?

Ruelle awoke to the warmth of the couch, the softness beneath her far better than anything she had known in years. The air in the room was still, but there was a faint sound—a rhythmic shuffling that made her blink away the last remnants of sleep.

Lucian was already awake.

When she dared to glance in his direction, all she could see at first was his tall frame silhouette against the faint glow of early dawn. The dim light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting his form in shadow. For a moment, she thought he was simply standing there, but as her eyes adjusted, she noticed the fluid, controlled movement of his body.

He was working out.

Leaning forward, Lucian’s hands pressed against the stone floor as he moved through a series of pushups. His muscles flexed and stretched with each movement. His shirt clung to him, slightly damp as if he had been working for a while now, and Ruelle could see the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. He had clearly been at this for a while, his body working with a silent intensity that matched the quiet of the room.

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of his controlled breathing, the rise and fall of his body, and the occasional scrape of his boots against the floor as he shifted to a different exercise.

Ruelle’s gaze lingered on him longer than it should have. He was handsome in that cold, untouchable way—his features sharp, his presence commanding, as if he existed on a different plane from everyone else. His dark hair, slightly tousled from his workout, framed his face perfectly, drawing attention to the hard lines of his jaw and the slight furrow of concentration in his brow.

But it wasn’t just his looks that made Ruelle’s heart race—it was the aura of danger that seemed to radiate from him. Every movement, every glance, held a quiet, lethal power. He wasn’t just strong. He was controlled, disciplined, as if he had spent his whole life honing himself into something... formidable.

She shifted, trying to sit up quietly so as not to disturb him, but her foot caught the edge of the blanket. Before she could catch herself, she tumbled to the ground with a dull thud. The sound was deafening in the stillness of the room, and her eyes darted to Lucian.

He had stopped mid-motion, his dark red eyes instantly locking onto hers and for a second, she wished she could disappear.

Her cheeks flushed. She sheepishly tried to smile, hoping to soften the sharpness of his stare. "The blanket... my foot got entangled," she said, her voice sounding smaller than she intended.

But Lucian didn’t respond. He didn’t move. He only stared at her. The silence stretched between them, and Ruelle found herself wishing he would say something—anything—because the silence felt far harsher than any words he might have spoken.

After what felt like an eternity, Lucian finally straightened from his workout. His movements were as graceful, as if her clumsy fall hadn’t disrupted him at all. He rose to his full height with effortless fluidity. Without a word, he walked towards the corner of the room where the tub sat, the sound of his boots soft against the stone floor.

Ruelle’s eyes followed him. She watched as he moved, and it was only when he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion, that she realised what he was about to do. There was no separate bathroom in this space as he had been the sole occupant all these years.

Her face flushed a deeper red, and before he could fully strip, she blurted out, "I’ll be outside," and hurried out of the room.

The day unfolded in the same muted rhythm, each second dragging on as if time itself had slowed to a crawl. Ruelle sat hunched at her desk, forehead pressed against her notes as she tried to concentrate. Though the whispers about her had lessened, they hadn’t entirely disappeared.

"Good work on the practicals today, everyone," Gemma’s voice was soft, a gentle hum that barely pierced the thick air of the classroom. She stood at the front, her eyes scanning the room. "As you know, your tests will begin in less than two weeks, but I will give you time to prepare."

Some students seemed relieved, though others remained tense. Some of the humans had been able to acquire access to books, while the others struggled and Ruelle was one of them. With the work she had put in for Gwendolyn, she had hoped for more than a penny.

"Mr. Henley, if you would," Gemma instructed.

Ruelle watched him as he handed out small wooden boxes to each student, his expression serene. When her box landed on her desk with a soft thud, she opened it with a hesitant curiosity. Inside, nestled against the dark velvet, lay a pair of earrings.

"Is this a gift?" a girl sitting nearby asked, holding up her box with a small smile. "I’ll replace my old ones with these!"

Gemma’s smile was soft but edged with something colder. She stated, "It is a gift, but not in the way you think. You won’t be replacing your old ones. You will be piercing your ears again to make space for these earrings."

The room went still. An evident wave of unease rippled through the students, their gazes shifting nervously. Ruelle instinctively touched her ears, unpierced and whole, a dull knot of anxiety forming in her stomach at the thought of metal breaking skin. The idea of willingly inflicting pain—even something as small as this—made her breath hitch.

"Pierce again?" June, sitting near the front, was the first to speak, her tone filled with disdain. She fingered the fancy earrings already in place, her expression sour. "My mother wouldn’t approve of this."

Ezekiel, who had been silent until now, spoke, "I’m surprised your mother disapproves of something so small, Ms. Clifford. Especially considering what she seems to approve of... like stealing."

June’s face flushed a deep red, her fingers trembling as she stammered, "I—I don’t know what you mean," as she hadn’t expected to be called out like this. She despised this class and the instructors! One failed her, and the other was humiliating her!

Ezekiel didn’t need to elaborate. The other students remained quiet, though a few exchanged knowing glances. June’s petty actions had driven Ruelle into a male’s room.

Gemma redirected the room’s attention back to her by saying,

"As you are part of Sexton, and will one day serve the Elites, it is essential you understand what pain feels like. A vampire’s fangs are much smoother and less invading, of course, but you need to be prepared. We cannot have humans causing a scene in front of the Elites when the time comes."

Ruelle swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the edge of the box. They were being prepared like cattle for slaughter.

Across from her, Kevin raised his hand, holding up a small glass vial, and asked, "What are we supposed to do with these?"

It seemed that males and females were given different boxes. Ezekiel’s was the one to answer it.

"You will fill that vial with your blood. Completely. The blood must be fresh, not dried. Whether you do it little by little or all at once is up to you, but the vial must be full by the time the test is due."

A collective shiver ran through the room. No one dared to voice their discomfort. It was another grim reminder of their place at Sexton—humans were not just students here. They were prey, a resource, waiting for the inevitable bite that would mark them as such.

As the class ended, the room began to empty, but Ezekiel lingered. His eyes followed Ruelle as she gathered her things, his presence a shadow that loomed too close. His voice, soft but insidious, slipped into her ear as he appeared at her side.

"Ruelle," he began, his tone warm, too warm. "Are you alright? Is everything going well with your... new rooming arrangement?"

Ruelle forced a small smile, her voice careful as she replied, "I think so."

Ezekiel’s smile deepened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He offered, "If you need help with the piercing. I can arrange it. It’s easier to have someone else do it than to try alone."

To this, she shook her head gently, before thanking him, "Thank you, Mr. Henley, but I’ll manage. I still have time."

For a brief moment, Ezekiel’s smile faltered, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. Though he kept his polite demeanour, there was a flicker of something darker behind his eyes. He wanted her to need him. He wanted her to be vulnerable, dependent on his help. But she was resisting, and that infuriated him more than he let on.

"Of course," Ezekiel replied, his tone smooth again. "Whenever you’re ready, Ruelle. My offer stands."