Vampire's Veil Of Obsession-Chapter 168: In His Arms

Rose’s body jolted awake, drenched in sweat. Her breath came in fast, shallow gasps as she clutched her chest. She sat up, strands of hair clinging to her skin from the heat. Her lips quivered, and tears streamed down her cheeks without pause.

The only name that came to mind was.

Z..Zethan

Beside her, Zethan gently rubbed her back in silence, worry slightly etched on his features—he was likely the one who had pulled her out of the nightmare.

She turned to him, eyes filled with fear, her voice trembling.

"I... It looked so real," she whispered, the tears still falling.

Without a word, Zethan wrapped his arms around her. Her eyes widened at the sudden embrace, and she began to tremble in his arms, still lost in the aftershocks of the dream. Then his voice came, soft and steady:

"I’m with you. I’m here. Don’t be scared. I’m here."

The only thing echoing in Rose’s mind was how real it all felt. Every detail. Every sensation.

But now, with him by her side, the fear was replaced by relief—his gentle voice wrapping around her like a safe blanket.

Zethan gently lifted her chin, his touch light, his eyes soft.

"I’m here. It was just a dream," he murmured once more, his voice low and calming, trying to anchor her back from the storm inside her.

She met his eyes but bit her lip, holding back more tears. She didn’t want to think about it—didn’t want to relive it. But her body betrayed her. Her heart still raced, and her thoughts spun like a whirlwind.

"I’m here, sweetheart," Zethan said again, more firmly this time.

"Remember, your husband is right here. Nothing will happen to you."

The words barely comforted her, and still, she cried.

"You were burnin’... you were burning..." It was all she could say, over and over again, the words spilling out like a broken record.

Zethan pulled her close again.

"Nothing will happen, sweetheart. I promise you that."

She nodded, even as tears streamed down her face. The dream had shaken her to the core. It was so vivid, so real—she had felt everything. Even the pain when she pinched herself. The fire. The helplessness.

But nothing compared to the terror in her chest when she saw Zethan burning.

That fear—

That unbearable fear—

It still clung to her even now.

It hadn’t left her.

Not even when she woke up.

Zethan stood and walked quietly to the table, pouring water into a glass.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

The sound filled the silence, grounding the moment.

He returned to her side, placed the glass gently at her lips, and guided her to drink.

Rose took a few shaky gulps before he pulled the glass away and set it on the nearby table.

"It’s okay, sweetheart," he said softly. "It’s okay. Breathe for me. Deep breaths."

She inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled again.

And slowly, something inside her began to ease.

Zethan reached up and gently wiped away her tears.

He pulled her into a hug as he whispered,

"If you can’t answer, touch my neck. Is that clear?"

He spoke quietly, and Rose nodded as she pulled away softly. Zethan’s gaze locked on hers as she sniffed.

"Were you barefoot?"

She nodded, and Zethan slowly ran his hands through her black hair.

"When I was burning, did I look at you?" he asked, his voice lowered as he stared at her intently...

But just as Rose opened her mouth to speak—

Their eyes shifted toward the sound—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A soft knock at the door.

Zethan’s face darkened immediately. He rose to his feet and glanced toward the door, murmuring something under his breath.

From the nature of the knock—firm, subtle, and direct—Rose could already tell it wasn’t a maid or servant. Her instincts told her it must be one of Zethan’s men.

The moment he opened the door, the voice that followed confirmed her suspicion. It was exactly as she had expected. She bit her bottom lip, her hand rising gently to her chest.

Strangely enough, her heart was beginning to calm.

Moments later, Zethan closed the door and returned to her side.

"Wife," he said softly, "something urgent has come up. I won’t be having breakfast with you this morning. I’ll make it up to you—don’t worry."

Rose nodded slowly. His voice held a trace of urgency—a slight rush that didn’t go unnoticed. She could tell it was something serious. But even so, the fact that he’d stayed until she woke up warmed her heart.

She couldn’t imagine how much worse the morning would’ve felt if she had woken alone, with the dream still clinging to her like smoke.

Zethan gently added,

"Your personal maid will be here soon."

She nodded again, and with a final glance, he turned and left the room.

A few minutes later, a young woman entered, bowing respectfully.

"Good morning, Queen Roselina."

"Good morning to you," Rose replied softly.

"I’ve come to prepare your bath."

Rose gave a gentle nod as the maid walked toward the bathroom.

Once the water was ready, the maid returned and asked with a polite tone,

"Queen Roselina, by any chance, would you like assistance with your bath today?"

Rose shook her head.

"You don’t have to worry. I can bathe myself."

The maid bowed once more.

"As you wish, My Queen."

She quietly exited the room.

As the door clicked shut, Rose stood and walked toward the bathroom. She removed her clothing, still damp with sweat, and stepped into the tub, craving the comfort of warm water.

She sat for a while, letting the heat soothe her skin and her thoughts. But when she moved her leg, a sudden sting made her gasp.

She lifted her leg instinctively—and froze.

There, faint but unmistakable, was a mark.

A scratch.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her eyes widened in shock.

It was the exact same scratch—the same wound—she had gotten in the dream.

*

*

Rose sat at the dining table.

She wore a square-necked, flowery gown that hugged her waist before flaring gracefully downwards. Unlike the heavier dresses others often wore, this one was light and free—far more preferable, if you asked her. It allowed her to move comfortably without feeling weighed down.

Her hair was softly curled, cascading down her back, with a few delicate pins holding the front strands in place to keep them from falling into her face.

The only sound filling the quiet room was the soft clink of her cutlery against the glass plate.

Beside her stood her personal maid, with some other maids at the back silently waiting for further instructions.

Rose was the only one eating this morning—Zethan had already told her he wouldn’t be joining her for breakfast.

She understood. He was a king, after all, and kings had duties—many of them.

But even as she ate, her mind wasn’t present. It was consumed by what had happened earlier.

How was it possible for a dream to feel so real?

How could it leave behind a scratch—an actual mark—in real life?

She remembered it vividly.

The way that monstrous beast had chased her.

The way she had tripped, her skin scraping against something sharp.

That same wound had appeared during her bath.

She was trying to reason it out—trying to make sense of something that seemed beyond logic.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her maid’s soft voice.

"My Queen," the maid said with a respectful bow,

"His Majesty had to leave urgently as there is an emergency. It appears he will not be available for lunch or dinner today either."

Rose’s head turned slowly, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected that. But after a brief moment, she pressed her lips together and nodded. She had to remind herself that not everything could go her way—not with a man like Zethan. A king had many responsibilities, and she couldn’t expect him to sit by her side at all hours.

The maid continued,

"A personal guard will be arriving shortly. He is to escort you throughout the mansion in His Majesty’s absence. This is to ensure your protection and guidance wherever you go."

Rose nodded again, more slowly this time.

And right on cue, the door opened.

The maid stepped back and bowed low. A man walked into the room with confident, steady steps and stopped just behind where Rose was seated. His expression was unreadable.

His brown hair was swept neatly back, and he wore the impeccable uniform of a royal guard—disciplined and regal.

He looked like the perfect... guardian. A queen’s barricade.

Then he spoke, his voice calm and formal.

"My Queen, I am to serve as your personal guard from today, by order of His Majesty."

The moment his words left his mouth, Rose’s entire body froze.

That voice...

Why did it sound so familiar? Too familiar.

Her heart pounded. Her eyes widened. Curiosity overpowered her hesitation.

She slowly turned around—and the moment she saw his face, her breath hitched.

"Frederick..." she whispered.