Married To The Mad Vampire Lord-Chapter 134: Unstable_Part 2

Rohan left Belle in the chamber a few minutes before the servants came in with her baths.

She’d watched him pull away from her and flung aside the sheet he had draped over them when she had fallen asleep in his arms. He got off the bed, and when he stood to his feet, her breath caught in her lungs at the sight of his bare form.

For a moment, she thought she saw him stagger, but she assumed it was just her eyes playing tricks on her. He quickly balanced himself and reached for his clothes on the floor.

His nakedness had made her flush so deeply it burned her skin. She’d never truly seen a naked man if it wasn’t for that book. He did not bother to hide his body—he had nothing to hide, actually, because he was glorious from head to toe. And to her shame she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.

He didn’t even seem to mind that he was naked in front of her, and though she had expected him to tease her for her shamelessness of watching him, he dressed silently. She watched him as he draped his attire back over his body, her cheeks aflame.

He looked like a perfect piece of art, crafted by a skilled artist, especially with the dark-lined scars on his back, which he made no effort to hide from her, unlike the first time she had seen them. Or perhaps he simply didn’t realize she was watching and in the room, as he seemed somewhat absentminded while he dressed.

She realized the scars went beyond his back and down to his firm bottom. A shudder went through her at how the random lines looked like something that would have hurt so much when they were first inflicted on him. If they hadn’t healed and disappeared like how it should for a vampire, it meant they used to be deep when they were raw.

Vampires were known to heal faster, where no scar would be left behind, but his had left a scar, some like a deep cut that had tried to heal themselves but couldn’t be closed completely. The two obvious lines at either side of his shoulders were where his wings must be, she noted, as they looked more prominent. She was still watching when he draped his shirt on, obstructing her view of it.

"How did you really get all those scars?" she asked quietly, and to her shock, he seemed to jump a little, like he had not known she was even in the chamber and her voice had startled him. Rohan, being startled? She never thought he was the kind, but the look on his face told her his jumping slightly at her voice was genuine and not faked.

He turned to her without actually looking into her eyes, like he was just seeing her. Belle frowned at his reaction and expression.

"What did you just say?" he questioned tonelessly, causing Belle’s frown to deepen in concern.

"I said, where did you get those scars?" she repeated her words, looking at his face and trying to gauge what was wrong with him. He had not been acting himself since she woke up from sleep at Rav’s knock—or was it since this morning when she woke up to find him on the bed?

She watched as his fingers, clumsily closing his shirt buttons into the wrong buttonholes, paused for a moment at her question and then resumed without realizing each button was in the wrong hole as he replied to her,

"It’s nothing serious. They are childhood scars I got from playing rough. The maids are here, I will take my leave," he said and then leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His lips were cold, she noted, but then he left the chamber without letting her speak.

When she turned to look at him, her eyes widened slightly when she saw that he had even worn the trousers wrong. He’d worn them inside out, and he walked out of her door before she could point it out.

Childhood scars from playing rough? She would be a fool to believe that when they looked like cuts and whips, not to mention how he had tried to compel her into forgetting it a month ago, Belle thought as she watched his shadow disappear behind the door.

What was wrong with him? She had thought that after what they did, he would feel much better, but instead, he seemed even more unstable and absentminded. What could possibly be weighing on his mind enough to make him dress wrongly and appear so lost? she wondered, both concerned and curious.

Then the maids entered with her bathwater, and one of them carried fresh sheets to replace the ones on the bed, prompting her to belatedly realize that she was still naked beneath the sheet, with her torn nightdress lying on the floor, and the telltale red stain on the bed that would make it all too clear what they had done on the bed in the middle of the day.

She flushed furiously as they all greeted her and announced that the bath was ready.

Belle’s bath that night was one of the most mortifying she’d ever experienced. The maid washing her massaged her in places she would never have permitted, had she not already been feeling sore and in need of the soothing relief.

It was as if the young woman knew exactly where and what needed to be done after such an act in bed to make her feel physically better and more comfortable.

Thankfully, she made no comment as she helped her clean and wash away the maidenhead blood smeared on her thighs, to Belle’s embarrassment and utter mortification. She would have much preferred to do it herself, but it was already too late to protest.

The color on her skin refused to subside even after she was dressed and ready. She wore a gold-colored flock gown with a higher neckline, chosen to conceal the hickeys scattered across her chest and neck. Her hair was left to fall in soft waves down her back.

The bath made her feel much better, and ointments were applied to her bruised knees and shoulders from last night’s injuries.

She was stepping out of her chamber when she almost came headfirst into colliding with Rav’s chest, who was about to knock on the door of the chamber.

Not expecting someone outside, Belle was startled and drew backward with a gasp. "Oh my goodness, you scared me!" she exclaimed, pressing her hand to her beating heart and looking up at him in accusation—only to see that his light red eyes held a lace of urgency and worry in them.

"Is something wrong?" she asked before she could stop the question, her voice sounding concerned just from seeing his expression.

"Is His Lordship inside?" Rav asked instead of answering her, further making her own worry rise.

"No. He left to get ready a few minutes ago. What’s wrong?" she inquired, growing uneasy from the man’s expression—he barely ever showed any when speaking to her. She watched him run his fingers through his neck-length hair as if in agitated frustration at her reply, and he muttered a curse.

"I’ll be damned," he gritted and then quickly turned to leave without answering her question, leaving her standing. But Belle hastily caught the sleeve of his shirt to stop him.

"Tell me what’s going on? Why are you looking for him when he’s not a child?" she demanded, coming to stand in front of him with a displeased frown. She could tell something was wrong—her gut instinct was strong on it.