Under the vampire Lord's protection

Pacing back and forth between the nightstand and the vanity table, Arabella had her hands clasped together as she bit down harshly on her bottom lip. 

From time to time, the round moon embellishing the night sky would grasp the young woman's attention through the window. The way It had hogged the limelight right the moment the horizon had tucked the sun never ceased to impress. 

Dinner threatened to rise back up and exit from whence it had entered, putting much pressure on her heart which grew more restless with each second that passed.

Long seemed those agonizing minutes of waiting for the knock that would come to announce her summoning. 

The odd thing was, however, that despite the anticipation, Arabella still flinched when a gentle knock on the door reached her ears. 

"Miss, Arabella!" came Ada's voice. 

Frozen in place, Arabella stared at the door for a little while, until a second knock resounded.

"Miss?" that time, Ada's tone held a little more concern. 

Just like the night before, Arabella walked forward head high, doing her best to tame her rebellious knees that quivered at every step. 

All around, the flickering shadows kept her mind busy for the most part, but that only made her inner voices angrier as they screamed to remind her of her… Strange fate.

And same as the previous night, Ada waited for no permission before opening the door to Silas' room. 

With a dusky smile, the maid stepped aside, gesturing at Arabella to go on in, then immediately shut the door behind her. 

Though the difference was that unlike her first time there, Silas was not behind the curtains, but very much present on that side. 

His back turned her way, the vampire sat, tool in hand among the candles, facing the canvas as he carved away.

He seemed quite committed to his work, allowing no distraction to stand in his path. Becoming one with his craft, it was as though the world around him mattered not. The picture before Arabella was a perfect blend of shapes, lights and contrasting tones, ironically birthing the most harmonious of art pieces besides the one he'd been engraving.

Arabella couldn't help but admire him, as her eyes sometimes followed the little wood chippings, gracefully floating to the ground here and then. 

The whole sight had breathed a semblance of peace within her.

"Have you dined?" his deep voice shattered her short moment of serenity.

"Yes," she muttered almost immediately. 

"Take a seat," he ordered without turning around. 

Arabella obeyed and neared the lounge chair by the window, but her eyes wouldn't leave the canvas as the further away she walked from the door the more of the piece became visible.

After minutes that felt like mere seconds, Silas set the tool down on the table and disappeared behind the curtains, only to return sometime later a white cloth in hands. 

His utter silence along with the way he carried himself sucked the air out of the room, never allowing her the chance to gauge his person. 

Slowly, Silas approached and towered over her, "Let me see your eyes," he demanded in a softer tone.

It was the second time he'd asked to see her eyes before feeding which left her wondering about the reason. 

Arabella still complied and lifted her gaze for him to contemplate them.

Finally, Silas took a seat by her side, extended his hand and waited. She quickly got the hint and placed her wrist between his fingers. 

Similarly to the first time, he gently brought it to his mouth. The little brush he gave her skin with his lips stole a little jolt out of her.

Eyes shut, Silas breathed in and out, sending the warm air to further rattle the already wild pace of her heart. Not long after that, his fangs peaked through and rested upon her arm for the briefest of moments before penetrating the barrier that was her skin. 

She took in a sharp breath as a cool spark shot up her spine, igniting every part of her brain like a yule tree, sparing no corners. Euphoric was the only word that came to her mind when trying to describe the feeling of blood being sucked from her. 

Deep down, there was a little part of her that still refused to give in to him, screeching about how disgraced of herself she should be for enjoying such treatment, but her senses had already sworn submission. 

Even if she'd desired to put an end to it, no muscle in her body would obey. 

At his mercy she entirely was and there was nothing in her power to do but watch as he relished his dinner with such care his wet lips permitted no drop to go to waste. 

Seconds turned to minutes, and little by little, her heart began to sing a different tune, simmering down as her eyelids along with her breathing grew heavier and heavier the more crimson fluid he syphoned out of her.

Tiny tingles were born from her wrist, scattering to travel all through her body inside and out while Arabella stared helplessly into the serene face of Silas who showed no sign of slowing down. On the contrary, his grip seemed to tighten around her arm. 

Thicker on her lungs the air was becoming and hazier was the world around her turning, melting a little more under his touch with each passing second as she sank further into the chair that carried her weight. 

Then just like that… Utter dreamless darkness… Where nothing but the cold that fell upon her nerve endings lived. A cold that quickly withered as something warm and pleasant came to shroud her whole body.

When Arabella's eyes fluttered open again, the sight of Silas greeted her once more, but he no longer held her arm.

In fact, he wasn't even sharing the lounge chair with her and instead sat facing his canvas. His hand wrapped around a tool, the vampire carved at times and then softly brushed the surface of the piece at others as the amber hue from the candles surrounding him danced across his features. 

A soft groan escaped her when she tried to push her weight up, causing his eyes to snap in her direction, "Remain reclined," well above a whisper, he still kept his tone on the softer side. 

Hearing that, Arabella stopped attempting to sit up and merely gazed back at him. Not that further efforts would have borne more fruits since her muscles had seemingly completely turned to mush. 

The cozy blanket cradling her didn't help with that one bit. It sure was the strangest of phenomena, coming to his room almost required dragging, yet there she was, sprawled across his lounge chair, wishing nothing but for time to stop. 

His figure seemed so near and yet so distant as though he was nothing but a ghost that would have fizzled out if she'd reached out to touch him. The world around him spun and remained a little blurry around the edges but she cared not for that as long as he was the centerpiece. 

How long had it been since the beginning of the night? She wondered. And how long before the sun would rise again?

Questions that would go unanswered for sure. There was no telling time in her condition and thus Arabella knew it was best to go for a different sort of question. 

For as long as she'd lived, her knowledge of vampires had always been limited to the books she read about them as well as the few Lords that dealt business with her father.

Notable as the nightwalkers of Umbraria, they only ever traveled at night and never rose with the sun. 

Their craving for human blood preceded them, the stupendous speed and strength envied by every man, woman and child in Lustris. A pronounced fear of silver that is said to far exceed that of wolf folk. Not to forget, of course, the therapeutic effect of their blood against human ailments.

One thing they weren't was cold to the touch. Indeed, they took their breaths just like every other creature that lived and wrong whoever had labeled them the living dead. 

It was clear, Silas was anything but dead, though he sure was unlike anybody Arabella had ever crossed paths with. How did Lady Persephone call him? Special, was it? Then again, she was his mother.

Through heavy lidded eyes, she followed every move he made, every little gesture as minute and inconsequential as it may have looked. 

The flimsiness of the fallen wood shavings coddled her mind into a richer sense of tranquility 

while the comfortable silence around her only highlighted the delicate scraping and scritching that the tools made against the canvas. 

"Keep your eyes shut,"

When his sultry voice reached her, she did as told and finally gave in to the pleadings of her tired eyes.

It was with a serene smile that, for once in quite the number of nights, Arabella fell into a sweet and delightful dream she'd never remember come morning.