"A word, Grantham."
His voice was low, cold, but not unkind. Just unreadable—as always.
Elowen followed Julian out of the grand hall, her steps slow and uncertain. They stopped at a secluded terrace on the far end of the soiree ship, where lanterns flickered against the sea breeze and shadows danced across the waves.
She stood stiffly, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of the world after what she'd just witnessed.
She was trying so hard to compose herself, she had willed herself to be calm, no one knew what she really was. But the will for composure was vain tonight. Her heart has handled much tonight and it screamed for relief.
Julian turned to her. His gaze swept her face, then lingered at her eyes. Her lashes trembled, and though she fought to appear composed, he saw it—the sting of tears waiting at the edge.
He said nothing for a moment, only studied her with that same maddening stillness.
"We're leaving," he said finally. "You can wait at the carriage."
She gave a stiff nod, turned, and walked away, blinking fast.
Julian remained behind, disappearing back into the soiree crowd.
Near the carriage,Elowen tried to pull herself together. She breathed deeply, smoothing her gown, focusing on the embroidered edges of her sleeves—anything but the memory of the mermaid boy, the blood, or the fangs.
"Miss Elowen."
She turned, startled.
Ewan Blair.
He approached with his usual composed gait, dressed sharply in his black-grey ensemble. Under the moonlight, he looked every bit the polished aristocrat, yet there was a soft caution in his expression.
She dropped a curtsy. "Lord Blair."
"Hope you enjoyed the soiree?" he asked.
She hesitated, then forced a small smile. "Yes, Lord Blair. It was… it… was nice."
Her voice cracked slightly, but she masked it with a graceful nod.
"You're quite acquainted with Lord Ravenshade?" His tone was neutral, but his brow arched just enough to signal curiosity.
"I work as his personal assistant," she answered simply.
Ewan's brow rose higher. "A personal assistant for a pureblood?"
She merely smiled, choosing silence over elaboration.
"I have to go," she added. "See you around, Lord Blair."
"See you, Elowen. Have a lovely night."
He bowed slightly and strode away into the night.
She turned to head toward the carriage, heart beginning to slow, and just when the carriage door was opened by the Coachman, Seraphine appeared like a ghost from the shadows.
The blonde tossed something at her. A small glass bottle.
"For soberness, sweetheart," Seraphine said with a wink. "Although… it might make you a little drowsy." she burst into naughty laughter. Though, she sounded naughty like there was something else.
Elowen nodded slowly, collecting the bottle.
She laughed and waltzed toward her own carriage, disappearing like moonlight in mist.
Elowen stared at the bottle. The wine had a faint blush tint and a sweet aroma. She took a sip.
Then another.
And just like that, the world softened.
Back in the ballroom, Julian stood once more before Lord and Lady Thornvale.
"Lord and Lady Thornvale," he said with a slight bow.
"Hope you had a wonderful evening, Lord Ravenshade?"
Julian nodded. "My pleasure,
"I'll be taking my leave."
Lady Thornvale smiled. "Have a lovely night ahead, Lord Ravenshade."
With one final nod, Julian turned and strode toward the main deck.
His coachman was already waiting.
As the carriage door opened, a rare smile touched the vampire lord's lips.
His wildflower was fast asleep.8
She sat curled in the corner of the velvet seat, her head against the window. The moonlight kissed her skin. Her gown's slit had shifted as she slept, revealing the smooth curve of her thigh. Her lashes fluttered, and her breathing was calm, but streaks of dried tears stained her cheeks.
She murmured something softly, incoherent.
Julian's sharp senses picked up the scent instantly.
Alcohol.
His eyes narrowed.
He glanced at the half-empty bottle beside her. His fingers curled around it, lifting it to examine the label.
"Damn it… Seraphine."
He could hear her laughter from across the manor courtyard as her own carriage began to roll away.
He shook his head and muttered, "Silly wildflower."
The ride was silent, the carriage gliding through the darkened streets of Eldhollow, past winding estates, through veils of night fog and the glow of lantern-lit ivy.
By the time they reached the Ravenshade Manor, Seraphine's carriage was already parked.
She'd gone inside.
Julian looked at Elowen again.
Still asleep. Still murmuring. Her cheek now resting gently against her shoulder.
He stepped into the carriage, leaned in, and lifted her carefully into his arms.
Bridal style.
Her arms flopped slightly, then instinctively curled against his chest. She sighed in her sleep, cheek brushing his collarbone.
Julian should have walked her through the manor's east wing. But he knew better than to risk a dramatic scene with his mother.
So he apparated straight into his chambers.
The room was quiet, the fire low. He placed her gently on his bed—his black-and-silver sheets enveloping her like fog.
He stood, turning to leave when—
Her hand shot up and wrapped loosely around his neck.
"Hmm… don't go…" she whispered.
He paused.
Her voice was slurred, half-asleep. She didn't even open her eyes.
He should have pulled away.
But she clung tighter, fingers brushing his nape.
She thought he was someone else.
"Hmm… don't leave," she mumbled again.
Julian sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
"Marianne..." She said sleepily.
She turned her face toward him, sniffed softly—and then her hands moved, resting over his chest, fingers splayed.
He stayed still.
She wasn't aware. Alcohol muddled her thoughts. But her heartbeat thudded softly against him, and her breathing evened.
Then she began crying again.
Murmuring things that didn't make sense—names he didn't know. Whispers that sounded like memories.
He leaned closer and gently wiped her tears with his thumb.
"You'll be fine, Wildflower," he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from her brow.
And this time… he didn't leave.