Under the vampire Lord's protection-Chapter 105: What hunger does

Carving felt strangely heavy on his hand that night and even inspiration did not come easy. The wood that usually melted like butter under his touch seemed more intimidating, tougher to crack.

Silas took a deeper breath, placing his tool down on the desk, he resigned to giving himself as well as the material a moment.

Although the lack of activity from the rest of his body only incited agitation in his mind. The quieter it had gotten around him the louder his thoughts screamed.

It had been such a beautiful day up until that moment. Why did it have to end on a low note like that?

And moreover, why would her lack of interest in him bother him that much? That was the question that kept him up at... Well, not that he ever required sleep, but if he did, Silas figured that praying for a drop of rest had to occur before any would be granted.

The vampire pushed his weight off the chair that served him and made his way towards the open window.

Relieved to note that the night carried in serenity along, he pressed both hands on the window seal to huff his lungs full of that pure air.

Though the action unlocked memories he’d tucked in the back of his mind to replay when the desire for it struck.

The memory of Arabella opening the window with grace to great whatever came after. Watching the way in which her hair rippled at the rhythm of the fair winds.

Silas turned around to follow the ghost of her figure, marching towards the lounge chair and taking a seat. The entire thing played so vividly behind his diamonds, one would surely spot its reflection when looking into them.

Alas, like every other moment of peace, that one too had to end. When a new contemplation pushed its way to the front through sheer force. More intrusive than the rest it was, demanding it’d be fulfilled.

Close to the first midnight strikes, that fiendish little voice strove to convince him that the solution to all his hitches was to extend his hearing and drop a few eaves around her room or circumference.

She’d be sleeping so it wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Out of all the responsibilities that rested upon his shoulders, from the family businesses to the matters regarding the estate and the communication with the syndicate itself, never did Silas, in a million years, think his most arduous dilemma could ever lay in whether it was sane or not to spy on a young woman.

Eventually however, mischief triumphed over reason. The vampire shut his eyes and chased every spec of unrelated thought out of the way, carving a straight path towards Arabella’s room for his ears.

To his surprise, in lieu of the steady breaths and changeless heartbeats he’d expected, a voice rang in addition to those.

Little mutters that rose above a whisper at times before shushing down to nothing. Soft in the image of its owner it was as Arabella recited poems for no one in particular.

It was quite late, he thought. It wouldn’t do, he concluded. On the other hand, the tangled webs in his mind could use a kind recounting of old rhymes which he never cared for much before her.

Her delivery made them all the more desirable to listen to.

From time to time, little scratches would merge with the words, reminiscent of the scribbling of a quill against dry paper... Null doubt when she stopped to jot down her thoughts about the lines.

Warm hums would break the pattern here and there whenever the young woman was befuddled at the content of the pieces.

Everything fell into the background after that. Every ounce of worry was replaced by calm at first and then... Hunger second.

the urge to take the cloth he’d used to wipe her blood out of his vest prevailed. It seemed clean enough, but if the slightest trace of that sweet nectar remained, it wouldn’t escape his senses.

It, in fact, did not evade him. One whiff was enough to coax the fangs out of their lair as the water hadn’t washed away the last of her blood.

Even mingled with his own, it retained ample purity to set his nerve endings on fire, riling every cell in its wake.

The thought of his breath so close to that silky skin of hers did not help quell his cravings one bit. On the contrary, it fed the fire at his core. The manner in which his fingers had explored her calves, nearing her thighs stuck playing on repeat behind his corneas.

The two of them hadn’t been that close in almost two weeks.

Would it matter if he asked for blood before the two weeks mark? The answer was no, of course. Not because it wouldn’t affect her, but due to the fact that she’d never have the will to say no.

Thirst changed a vampire... Made him selfish. Unconcerned about anything or anyone else’s needs before his own.

Then again, wasn’t it the case for every other creature that lived? When hungry or thirsty enough, anyone would cave under the pressure. Anyone’s mind would break.

That was what Silas kept telling himself as his feet walked him across the hallways, heart threatening to melt its cage.

Just a few drops... A mere taste... It wouldn’t hurt her, would it?

"Master?"

It took a lot of restraint to remain as courteous and poise as possible which in his case, consisted of a strict glare.

Katherine stood behind him, carrying a tray with two teacups resting atop its surface.

"What is it you need?" much like his glare, Silas did his best to keep his tone void of any emotion that might give him away.

"No, it is not something I need, but Arabella can’t manage to find sleep. I figured tea might help her," she muttered, eyes flickering between his eyes and his fangs, "Is everything alright, Master?"

"Yes. What seems to be the problem with her?" he quickly brushed her question away to ask his own.

"I don’t know, Master. She is restless, but refuses to speak of it,"

Those words struck a chord in Silas. It served as a call back to reality. A reminder that his behavior would further shape her already skewered view of him.

"Make sure she rests,"

After those words, he turned around and walked past Arabella’s room without stopping.