Allure Of The Night-Novel

Music Recommendation: Angela- Flower Face

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Eve returned to the living room with a towel in her hand and clothes for Vincent. But when she entered the room, her heart slipped from her ribcage from the sight in front of her.

As if it was his house, Vincent had removed his shirt and hung it on the back of the chair next to the fireplace. With his back facing her, her eyes fell on his broad back that tapered as her gaze moved lower and lower with her heart picking pace. Thankfully his trousers were still on him, and Eve sighed.

When Vincent raised his hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to comb it backwards, his arm and shoulder muscles squeezed with his movement. Sensing her presence, he turned. His coppery-red eyes had turned completely red as they met hers.

Trying to hide her growing feelings, Eve kept an expressionless face and handed the clothes and towel to him. She didn’t want to be one of those women who behaved thoughtlessly, trying to gain Vincent’s affections. She said,

“These clothes belonged to Uncle Rikkard, Aunt Aubrey’s late husband. They might fit you.”

Vincent took them from Eve. A smile tried to break through her lips, seeing him dab the towel for many seconds. She said,

“I think your hair would dry quicker if you rubbed it with the towel.”

“This is how I do it,” Vincent rolled his eyes. When a few more seconds passed, he said, “When I was small, my mother was the one to do it for me.”

Though Vincent had never vocalised it when he was small, he liked his mother’s hugs and her motherly touch in his life. He doubted there could be anyone better to take her place. She was the only person he had ever listened to. When she was gone, it left a hollow that couldn’t be filled by anyone but his growing darkness towards the world.

While his sister Marceline had quickly adjusted after his mother’s death, where the maids helped her groom, he disliked anyone touching him and learned to look after himself, becoming independent without relying on anyone for anything.

While Vincent’s hand slightly fell away from the towel, at that moment, Eve glimpsed the pureblooded arrogant vampire missing someone he cared for and loved. In the past, she never believed that vampires, colder than the werewolves, could feel such things.

Unable to hold back her emotions, she stretched her hand towards him and said, “The towel.”

“Don’t feel pity for me. People who felt it have always wrecked themselves,” Vincent looked at her with an unfathomable expression.

“Take a seat on the chair,” Eve said without responding to his words.

A curious look entered Vincent’s eyes, “Planning to be my mother?” He teased her.

“No,” Eve answered him, feeling a heaviness in her throat and chest when she added, “I am your friend.”

Vincent stared at her for a second before handing the towel to her. He took a seat on the same chair where his shirt hung. Coming to stand behind him, Eve used both her hands before she started to rub his wet hair. She asked him,

“I thought you went to Darthmore. Where did your carriage break down?” The way he was drenched made it feel like he had walked long before coming here.

“Mm,” Vincent hummed, getting comfortable and allowing the mermaid to dry his silver hair. “I did. I was on my way to Thresk Hills when the carriage broke somewhere before Skellington.”

“Did you finish your work at Thresk Hills?” Eve asked him, considering the time right now.

“I will get it done tomorrow.”

When the carriage had broken, Vincent had turned into his bat form and had flown under the pressure of the rain with the intention to head to the Moriarty mansion. But before he knew it, without realising, he stood outside the town of Meadow.

Eve moved around the chair, coming to stand in front of him. Sensing his gaze, the movements of her hands turned gentler, and she said, “It is done.”

Vincent didn’t have an answer to why he was here now when he could be soaking in his comfortable life. And the thought irked him as if annoyed with himself.

“Good,” Vincent’s eyes subtly narrowed, which Eve didn’t take note of as her attention fell on the corner of his lips.

Eve asked him, “What happened to your mouth?”

“It was pretty since I was a child,” Vincent retorted, and Eve pursed her lips.

“I thought you had the ability to heal,” Eve took the towel from him. “Did you encounter someone stronger than you?”

Vincent rolled his eyes, “You wish,” and there was a hint of glare in them. It was only because he had provoked the Duke and wanted to get a reaction that he let the werewolf take a hit at him. He hadn’t paid attention to it, and now that she pointed it, the skin around his mouth healed. He said,

“The Council has arranged a burial for the unidentified tomorrow. You will be able to see them tomorrow afternoon in the local cemetery of Darthmore. We can take Allie with us as an outside experience education for her. Because the Council will be clearing all the bodies by evening. It will be a little harder to sneak around three skeletons.”

Hearing this information, Eve nodded, “Thank you.”

Vincent got up from the chair he had been sitting on and said, “You can thank me by offering yourself to me. I have been thirsty for quite some time now.”

Eve’s eyes fell on his bare upper body, and she tried to focus. When the pureblooded vampire took a step forward, she said,

“I think we need to set some rules before it to make things clear.”

“For someone who owes her life to me, you sure do like to make rules,” Vincent hummed.

Eve didn’t want her thoughts to twist and curl around him. She said, “You can drink from my hands and neck. Not from anywhere else,” at the same time, thunderstruck somewhere nearby, camouflaging her words.

“Hm?” Vincent cocked his head. A look of mischief entered his eyes, “I can drink from anywhere?”