Vampire's Veil Of Obsession-Chapter 86: Do That Now

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. A soft beam stretched over the bed, brushing against Lilia’s face, causing her to stir.

She blinked against the light before closing her eyes again, savoring the warmth. A lazy stretch rolled through her body, a contented sigh slipping past her lips. She felt more rested than ever—her limbs light, her mind clear, and an unfamiliar sense of peace settling deep within her bones.

Ever since she started staying with Zethan, she had noticed a peculiar shift within herself. There was a sense of freedom here—one she had never known in her own home. It was strange, almost unsettling, how easily she had fallen into comfort with him by her side. But as her mind drifted back to the previous night, a flood of memories came rushing in.

Her cheeks burned instantly.

The things Zethan had done to her.

The things she had felt—pleasure so intense, so all-consuming, she had been utterly lost in it.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching as phantom sensations trailed across her skin, the ghost of his touch still lingering. The way his breath had fanned over her, the way his lips had—

"Oh my goodness, Lilia, get a grip," she muttered, pressing both hands against her flushed face.

Desperate to clear her thoughts, she shifted beneath the sheets—only to freeze.

Something was different.

The fabric against her skin was unfamiliar.

Slowly, she looked down, realization dawning.

She was wearing his shirt.

A fresh wave of heat surged through her. He had changed her.

Her fingers clutched at the soft material, her heart hammering in her chest. It carried his scent—masculine, intoxicating, dangerously comforting. She inhaled instinctively, a shiver rolling down her spine.

Shaking her head, she pushed the covers aside and attempted to stand. A sharp twinge between her thighs made her wince.

Oh.

Her blush deepened.

Just then, a scent—strong, unmistakable—hit her nose.

Something was burning.

Burnt food?

Lilia’s eyes widened.

Panic shot through her as she bolted out of the room, her bare feet pattering against the cool floor.

Smoke curled from a pan on the stove, thick and suffocating. She rushed forward, quickly turning off the gas, coughing slightly as the acrid smell filled her lungs.

Her gaze darted around the disaster that was the kitchen—burnt pots, spilled ingredients, a cookbook lying open on the counter.

And then her eyes landed on him.

Zethan stood before her, sleeves rolled up, toned arms flexing slightly as he leaned against the counter. His apron was loosely tied at the back, his silver hair tousled, a lock falling lazily over his forehead.

He looked like a model straight out of a high-end culinary magazine.

If chefs like him actually existed, Lilia was certain people would visit just to see him rather than taste the food.

For a moment, she just stared.

Then reality hit.

She snapped her gaze toward the mess behind him, then back to him.

His expression was unreadable.

He was trying to cook for them.

Her heart clenched unexpectedly.

He wanted to surprise her.

And maybe, in a way, he had.

Lifting a hand to her forehead, she sighed. "Oh, Zethan..."

She reached for the cookbook, but before she could, he turned to her with a soft smile.

"Good morning," he murmured.

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down her spine.

Her lips parted, but instead of the reprimand she had intended, what came out was a soft, almost... seductive, "Good morning."

Oh, why can’t she get mad at him?

Even with the mess he had just created, her resolve wavered.

Zethan’s smirk deepened.

Lilia cleared her throat, trying to regain control. "I’ll take over. You—"

Before she could finish, strong arms wrapped around her from behind.

His warmth engulfed her, his presence overpowering. His lips brushed against her neck, the briefest touch, yet it sent electricity crackling through her nerves.

A quiet gasp escaped her as his hands rested on her thighs, stroking gentle, deliberate circles.

Her brain momentarily shut down.

"You don’t seem too happy to see me," he teased, voice low, husky.

Lilia stiffened, turning her head just enough to meet his gaze. "How do you expect me to be happy when you almost burned the kitchen down?" she shot back, willing herself to focus.

Zethan chuckled, utterly unbothered. His fingers moved up, tracing slow, tantalizing patterns along her side. freёnovelkiss.com

"But you were so excited last night," he mused. "You screamed my name. I’m still surprised your voice is intact, my little singer."

Lilia’s eyes widened.

’Little singer’

Before she could respond, he tilted his head, drawing attention to his neck.

Her breath caught.

There.

Faint scratches. Hickeys.

Marks she had left.

Her stomach flipped.

His smirk widened as he whispered, "Should I remind you who’s responsible for this?"

Lilia swallowed hard, her cheeks burning. "Zethan," she warned. "Let’s just... make breakfast."

He chuckled but finally released her. She exhaled in relief and stepped forward—only to yelp as his palm landed lightly on her backside.

The sudden slap sent a jolt through her body, heat rushing up her spine.

’This man what was wrong with him’

Whirling around, she glared at him, but he only smirked.

Her heart raced wildly.

And despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the excitement bubbling in her stomach all over again.

She shook her head, turning back to the stove. "You’re washing the dishes. That’s your punishment," she said firmly.

Zethan trailed behind her, his presence like a shadow.

Lilia huffed. "Actually, I’m pretty sure you don’t even know how to wash dishes properly," she mused, picking up one of the ruined pots. "So, I’ll wash one as an example. Pay close attention."

She knew Zethan wasn’t used to doing things like this, which made the idea of teaching him oddly satisfying.

Zethan, of all people, was about to do something so mundane.

Something that had probably never even crossed his mind.

Zethan simply nodded, his smirk never fading.

Her heart gave a small, unexpected thump.

’Why does it always feel this way when I talk to him?’

Pushing the thought aside, she began scrubbing the pot, demonstrating each step carefully.

"This is how you wash it," she explained, moving her hands slowly.

Before she could continue, she suddenly became aware of Zethan moving behind her.

His presence was unmistakable—warm, towering, entirely too close.

She turned slightly, only for him to lean in and whisper, "Focus, wife."

Lilia’s breath hitched.

She lifted her head, intending to glare, but the glare softened before it even fully formed.

Then, without warning, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Lilia’s eyes widened.

The pot slipped from her hands.

But in a swift motion, Zethan caught it before it could hit the floor.

Her shock deepened.

How did he move so fast?

Zethan grinned obsessively, handing the pot back to her. "It seems my wife can’t even hold a pot properly. I wonder what else she’ll drop if I surprise her again."

Lilia scowled, face burning. "You’re distracting me, my hubby."

My hubby?

Zethan smirked. "Oh really? Then go on. Finish washing."

Determined, Lilia focused on rinsing the pot.

Just as she reached the final step, she felt his hands slide around her waist.

His touch was featherlight but firm.

Her body froze.

Zethan leaned in, his lips brushing against her earlobe again as his hot wet tongue licked in it.

Lilia body stiffened her heart drumming loudly as he continued. "Your hands are busy," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. "So why can’t I keep mine busy too?"

His hot breath fanned against her ear, making it tingle—heat rushing to the sensitive skin.

Lilia sucked in a sharp breath, her chest rising and falling unevenly. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

"Don’t worry," he continued, his tone low and teasing. "I’ll just caress. No touching, no stroking..." His fingers moved slightly, sending shivers down her spine. "And no teasing."

A soft, unintended sound escaped her lips—a quiet, breathy moan.

Her eyes widened in horror.

Zethan’s smirk deepened, satisfaction flickering in his darkened gaze.

Mortified, Lilia spun around, blurting out, "Zethan—Lyall!"

The moment his full name left her lips, he raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

"Really now?" he mused, his smirk widening. "Go on, say it one more time..."

Lilia swallowed hard and quickly looked away. "Please," she whispered.

Wait—why was she begging? Was it for more? Or for him to stop?

"Don’t distract me."

Zethan’s lips curved into a sinful smile, but he didn’t move away. His hands remained on her waist, caressing her gently—a silent promise that he wasn’t done with her just yet.

Lilia forced herself to focus, her hands moving swiftly as she scrubbed the pot. She demonstrated each step, making sure Zethan was watching—so he’d know exactly what to do.

As soon as she finished, she turned around.

Her breath hitched.

He was too close.

The space between them had vanished, leaving her with no escape.

She swallowed, tilting her head up to meet his intense gaze. "Go on," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do the rest."

Before she could step back, Zethan suddenly pulled her into his arms.

His hands traced down her back—slow, deliberate—following the curve of her waist before stopping just above her hips. One hand rested firmly on her backside, holding her in place.

Lilia shivered.

His breath ghosted over her face as he leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers. His voice was a deep, sensual murmur.

"You have a very soft, plump butt, my wife."

Her heart pounded.

Why did that sound so sinful coming from him?

As if reading her thoughts, Zethan continued, his tone playful yet undeniably seductive.

"I’d love to see you twerk."

Lilia’s breath caught in her throat.

Before she could process his words, he leaned in further, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.

"And wiggle on me."

Her entire body heated up.

A sharp inhale left her lips, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter for stability. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him away—or do exactly what he wanted.

"The pots can wait," he whispered.

Lilia gasped as his fingers squeezed her backside, slow and deliberate.

"How about we do that now?"