Vampire's Veil Of Obsession-Chapter 31: Something Spoken, Something Felt

Lilia fell silent. She hadn't known Zethan had no parents. If she had, she wouldn't have brought it up so carelessly. Her face paled as she stammered, "Oh my... I'm so sorry about that. I had no idea."

Zethan immediately interrupted, his tone cool and indifferent. "It's fine, Loris. They've been gone a long time."

The nonchalance in his voice made her hesitate. She turned to him, studying his face, searching for any hint of emotion. There was no trace of pain or sorrow—just the same unreadable, cold gaze he always carried. It made her chest tighten. How could he be so unaffected?

Still, she couldn't help herself. The words spilled out before she could stop them.

"No, it's not," she blurted out. "It might seem that way, but I know... deep down... the loneliness—"

She bit her lower lip, mortified. What was she thinking, saying something so presumptuous? It felt as though she were peeling back a wound he hadn't offered to show. Her fingers curled tightly in her lap as she clamped her lips shut, her thoughts racing. How could she be so thoughtless?

And then she heard it—a laugh. Zethan's laugh.

It wasn't loud or mocking but a low, slow chuckle, tinged with an amused edge. It took her completely by surprise. She blinked, her mind scrambling to understand, when his hand moved, gently tilting her chin toward him.

His touch was firm but not rough, his fingers light against her skin. It wasn't the first time he'd done this, yet every time it caught her off guard.

It was then Lilia realized, with a jolt, that she was still sitting on his lap. Her face flushed crimson, the heat spreading all the way down her neck. Her earlier words echoed in her mind, guilt swelling in her chest. If only she'd known about his parents, she wouldn't have said anything so careless.

Acting on instinct, she reached for his hand, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his palm. Slowly, she began tracing an invisible circle on his skin, her movements tentative, almost hesitant.

Zethan's sharp gaze followed her every move, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you doing, Loris?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.

She hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-circle before she replied softly, "Someone once told me that... if you accidentally bring up a painful memory for someone, you can hug them or take their hand and draw a circle on their palm. It signifies the present. It's supposed to bring them back to the moment, to remind them they're here, not there."

For a moment, Zethan didn't say anything. His eyes flicked to her fingers, which had resumed their light tracing on his palm. He didn't pull away. Instead, he simply watched, his expression unreadable.

To his own surprise, he felt a strange ease settle over him. It wasn't that he hadn't already been calm and composed—he always was—but her gesture added a quiet sense of comfort.

Amusement flashed briefly in his eyes, softening their usual sharpness. "You're... what's the word I'm looking for?" he murmured, almost to himself. He paused, as though searching for the right phrase.

Lilia blinked, startled. Zethan, the man who always had a sharp remark or quick retort, seemed genuinely speechless.

For once, she'd turned the tables on him.

Realizing she'd said more than she should, Lilia clamped her lips shut, her thoughts racing. She shifted slightly, finally deciding to stand—only to realize it was too late; his hands were already wrapped around her slender waist.

Her movements froze as the realization hit her. Her face turned inward, and her neck flushed a deep shade of red. Embarrassment swept over her in a crashing wave.

"Where do you think you're going, Loris?" he asked, his voice calm yet commanding.

She blinked, confused, her gaze darting to his. "You wanted me to draw you. I thought I should leave," she replied, her voice faltering slightly.

Zethan's lips quirked into a faint smile, but his next words were both firm and unexpected. "Nonsense. I've changed my mind."

"Changed your mind?" Lilia echoed, staring at him in disbelief. "Huh?"

What did he mean he'd changed his mind? Was this how he operated—so unpredictable, so unnervingly decisive?

Her confusion deepened, but Zethan didn't offer an explanation. Instead, his gaze, steady and unreadable as ever, lingered on her, as if daring her to question him further.

Wasn't it he who said that was her punishment? Now, he's just changed his mind.

Before she could respond, his voice interrupted the moment.

"Lucas," Zethan said, his tone sharp and commanding.

Lilia's head turned just as Lucas entered the room. Her face, already flushed, deepened in color when the intimate position she shared with Zethan struck her fully.

Her body stiffened, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She couldn't move. Zethan's arm remained firmly around her waist, holding her in place with an ease that left her stomach fluttering in ways she didn't want to think about.

Then Zethan broke the silence, his deep voice cutting through the charged atmosphere. "Where is the artist?"

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Lucas blinked, momentarily confused by the question. "He left... You said we should cancel it—"

"Rubbish," Zethan interrupted sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Call him back. Two minutes."

Lucas nodded quickly and exited without another word.

Lilia stared at him, her mind reeling. She couldn't believe what she'd just witnessed. Was this how Zethan operated? Was this what people who worked for him had to deal with every day? Did they simply adapt to his unpredictable whims, or had they just stopped caring?

The entire scene was almost too frustrating to process. And yet, it shocked her less than it annoyed her. She turned back to Zethan, disbelief etched across her face. "It's fine. You don't have to call him back."

Zethan's gaze shifted toward her, his expression as impassive as ever. "Why should I listen to you?"

That did it. Lilia had had enough. Enough of his arrogance, enough of his proud, dismissive behavior. Her temper flared as she snapped, "You have to understand that people have feelings. You can't just send someone away and then call them back on a whim. It's not fair. It's not—nice."

Zethan chuckled, a low, mocking sound that sent her irritation boiling over. The laugh wasn't genuine; it was dismissive, condescending even.

Her face burned with embarrassment and anger as his laughter echoed between them. She glared at him, only to find him studying her with a faint smirk.

His voice, smooth but taunting, broke through her frustration. "Nice, Loris? Tell me—what's the meaning of 'nice'?"

Lilia opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her thoughts faltered, and she hated it. Of course, she knew what 'nice' meant, but explaining it, articulating it to him of all people, felt impossible at the moment.

Zethan seemed to enjoy her discomfort. "If you want to advise someone, at least know the meaning of the words you're using," he teased, his mocking tone sending another wave of irritation through her.

Before she could muster a response, Lucas returned, followed by the artist Zethan had summoned.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Zethan," the artist greeted, bowing politely. "When should I begin?"

Zethan nodded as if he hadn't been the one to demand the man's presence moments ago. "Oh, you're here," he said casually, waving a hand toward the room.

Lilia's cheeks flushed so deeply that her face could be compared to a red tomato. Surprisingly, she didn't mind the feeling of sitting on his lap, but the fact that someone else was there made her feel mortified. Oh, goodness! The intimate position she and Zethan were still in was too much. She shifted, trying to rise again, but Zethan's firm grip kept her in place.

"Next time you act without my orders, you'll be punished," he said sharply, his tone a mix of warning and authority.

The truth was, for some unknown reason, he enjoyed the fact that she was sitting on his lap. Was it her presence, or her warm, innocent aura? Whatever it was, it left him feeling strangely content.

Before she could respond, Zethan adjusted her, his large hands firmly gripping her waist as he settled her more comfortably onto his lap. "Stay," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Lilia's heart raced as his intense gaze locked onto hers. "Look at me," he said, his tone softer but no less commanding.

She hesitated, her eyes shifting away.

"No," Zethan said, his hand gently turning her face back toward him. "I want you to look me in the eyes. Can you do that—for an hour?"

An hour? Lilia blinked at him, utterly baffled. Did he expect her to stare into his eyes like they were some kind of television?

The funny thing was, the things she had done since arriving at this mansion—like sitting on Zethan's lap and locking eyes with a man—were things she had never done before.

Before she could respond, Zethan turned to the artist. "Draw us," he ordered. "Like this."