Chapter 38: Chapter Thirty-Eight: Falling for you.
When Elena’s eyes fluttered open, the world around her was dim and still.
She had fallen asleep right there on the floor.
Her body felt heavy and her head was clouded. Every bone in her frame ached as though she had been dragged across gravel all night. Slowly but painfully, she turned her face to the side and saw her reflection in the tall silver mirror across the room.
Her reflection startled her. Her skin looked pale, deathly pale, almost translucent under the light from the still drawn curtains.
The maids still hadn’t come to help her prepare for the day.
Her lips were dry, her hair tangled, and her eyes seemed duller than usual, ringed with faint dark shadows. She raised a trembling hand to her neck. It was burning. Her skin felt unnaturally hot so.
Elena groaned softly, trying to sit up, but her limbs refused to obey. Her breath came shallow and she felt her heartbeat quicken with every movement she took. She managed to push herself up against the wall in sluggish and disjointed motions as her muscles screamed for rest.
Her thoughts felt scattered, drifting in fragments all inside her head. Everywhere was so quiet.
Where is everyone? she wondered. The quarters, usually alive with faint sounds of servants preparing morning tasks, was eerily silent. She could barely make out the faint toll of bells somewhere in the distance, marking the early hour.
She needed help. Maybe water... or a warm meal.
Gripping the side of a chair beside her, she forced herself to her feet. Her legs wobbled beneath her, and her vision swam for a moment before steadying. She stumbled toward the door, using the walls for balance as her bare feet scraped softly against the floor.
When she opened the heavy door, the cool, faintly metallic,hallway air hit her, causing her to lean against the doorframe and called out weakly, "Hello? Is-is... anyone there?" But no answer.
Her voice sounded pitifully small, echoing down the corridor before fading away. She swallowed and tried again, louder this time. "Is anyone there? Please, I-I-I need help..."
Still nothing.
A flicker of irritation crossed her face. ’They’re probably downstairs.’ she reasoned faintly, trying to justify their absence. ’Probably preparing breakfast or cleaning or something...’ she muttered to herself, swaying by the doorpost.
She steadied herself against the railing at the top of the grand staircase. The steps spiraled downward, endless and steep. Just looking at them made her dizzy enough. But she needed to reach the bottom to find someone, anyone.
She took one step, then another.
Her body felt like paper in a hurricane. The fever blazed through her veins making each breath shallow and sharp against her lungs. Her vision blurred again, and she pressed a trembling hand against the railing, gripping it for dear life.
Halfway down, her knees gave out from excessively forcing herself to move.
Before she could fall, a pair of strong arms caught her from behind. Her body slumped against a broad, solid chest with a familiar strong scent. She blinked weakly but her vision was too blurred. The scent of herbs and strong fragrance hit her nostrils hard, strengthening her weakness the more.
But that scent could only belong to one person. Damien.
Without a word, he lifted her easily, cradling her as though she weighed nothing. He jumped down from the staircase swiftly as though there was fire on them. He landed gracefully with her still in his arms. When they reached the bottom, he laid her gently on the long velvet sofa in the parlor, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
He crouched before her with a frown on his face as he shook her gently. "Elena." His voice was low and controlled, but the faint edge of panic beneath it didn’t go unnoticed. He placed a hand against her forehead to feel it and the heat made him flinch.
She was burning up.
His eyes hardened instantly. He straightened before turning toward the hall.
"Servants!" he barked, his voice thundering through the mansion.
The sound reverberated through every corridor. Within seconds, the shuffling of feet filled the air as the maids and servants rushed in, dropping to their knees the moment they saw him. The atmosphere grew suffocating with tension. The vampire lord’s fury was so palpable, it seemed coiled around them dangerously.
He stared down at them with a glare "Why was she left alone?!" His voice cut through the air like a blade. "Why did no one attend to her?"
The servants trembled, heads bowed so low their foreheads literally touched the floor
No one answered. Who would dare?
Damien took a step forward, his fury simmering visibly beneath his oddly calm face. "I asked a question," he growled, "and when I ask, I expect an answer."
Everyone still remained silent until one young maid, a trembling girl with fair hair whispered, "My lord...W-We... we did not hear the lady, my lord. We were in the kitchens, preparing breakfast... we—"
He cut her off immediately.
"You didn’t hear?" He repeated slowly, mockingly. "You didn’t hear your mistress calling for help?"
The girl flinched as he advanced. His eyes never left her kneeling body. "You’ll all be punished," he said coldly. "Every last one of you. Guards!" he called from outside and three burly males came through the door.
"Take each and every one of them to the courtyard and give them two hundred whips each."
The burly men immediately lunged towards the shaking servants on the floor, pulling them to their feet as they cried and pleaded for grace.
"Please your highness. We would never want to harm our lady. Please have me-"
Damien reached for the male servant that had said that. The man didn’t even have time to beg before Damien’s hand struck across his face with brutal force. The crack of it echoed off walls even to the corridors. The servant flew backward, skidding across the floor and hitting the column with a grunt of pain.
The others gasped in horror but didn’t dare move.
Damien’s rage only deepened as he turned toward the rest still on the floor stifling their cries.
"Take them out immediately!" he yelled at the men who resumed their tasks with more vigour. They couldn’t even plead again because no one wanted to be hurled across the room by a slap.
The men had already taken them all but before they could drag them out the door, a weak voice cut through the air.
"Stop..."
Everyone stilled at the sound of the voice.
Elena’s hand had reached out, trembling from her little exertion energy and took his feebly. Her voice was faint, but it was enough to reach him.
"Please... don’t hurt them. It’s not their fault."
Damien turned toward her slowly. His expression was unreadable. His cold eyes softened slightly as he took in her pale face and her fragile figure struggling to sit upright on the sofa. The anger in him flickered, fading slowly like a dying flame.
He remained fixed to the spot as his gaze moved all over her body. Damien exhaled roughly in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he muttered darkly. Then, turning to the terrified servants who were still held in place by the men.
"Let them go and return to your stations." he ordered.
The men released their grip on the servants and lowered their heads. The terrified servants scuttled to his feet, thanking him profusely for his grace.
"Yes, your highness." the men replied in unison before hurrying out the door.
"Thank your mistress instead. You would have all become spineless if not for her. Get me a human doctor." he commanded, looking at the servants on the floor.
They scrambled to obey, vanishing down the hall in a blur of motion.
When they were gone, the silence returned again. Damien turned back to her and crouched beside her. His once thick voice was softer now. "You should’ve stayed in bed."
She tried to reply, but her throat was dry and pained her when she spoke. Only a soft whisper came out: "I... I didn’t want to stay alone in the room in case something happened to me..."
His eyes darkened, and he scoffed quietly, though his anger wasn’t directed at her. Without another word, he slipped one arm beneath her knees and another around her back, lifting her easily. Elena’s head fell weakly against his chest as he carried her through the halls. His heartbeat was slow, steady, and she could almost feel the faint hum of energy that always surrounded him. Like a pulse of restrained power beneath his skin. His strong scent that always made her drowsy took over her senses and she felt even more limp.
When they reached her chamber, he laid her gently on the bed, pulling the sheets over her. Then he turned to the window and threw it slightly open. The sudden rush of cold morning air swept through the room, brushing against her fevered skin. The sunlight that filtered in was soft and warm in contrast to the cool weather.
Damien turned and strode out the door. "Have breakfast prepared immediately," he ordered sharply to the no one in particular outside. "And send the doctor up when he arrives."
Elena watched the doorway blur through her fevered vision before closing her eyes again, clutching her chest as a sharp pain radiated through it.
Moments later, Damien returned. He stood by her bedside, watching her quietly. The hardness in his expression was gone. What took its place was a bored, rather unfeeling look.
She looked so small there, pale against the black sheets with her hair spread across the pillow like a flowing river. For the first time in decades, Damien felt...helpless?
.................
The door creaked open, and a short, round-shouldered, and clearly nervous man. He dropped to his knees the moment he saw Damien.
"My lord," he stammered.
"Get up," Damien said curtly. "And do your work."
The doctor rose and approached the bed cautiously. He washed his hands in the bowl a maid had brought, drying them carefully before leaning over Elena. "Your Ladyship," he said gently. "May I?" he asked politely and Elena hummed a reply.
The doctor hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand on Elena’s forehead. His eyes widened slightly at the heat radiating from her skin. "She’s burning up," he muttered. He reached into his bag and pulled out a stethoscope.
Damien’s eyes narrowed dangerously
"Why do you need that?"
"To listen to her heartbeat, my Lord" the doctor said quickly, trembling slightly under the vampire’s scrutiny.
"And you need to touch her for that?" Damien asked in a low and dangerous tone.
The man swallowed hard. "Yes, my lord... only briefly though...just to locate the cause."
For a tense moment, no one moved. Then, to the doctor’s shock, Damien stepped forward, took the stethoscope from his hand, and motioned for him to guide him instead.
"Show me where," he said simply.
The doctor blinked, startled. "Ah—yes, my lord... the chest, just—just below the collarbone."
Damien brushed Elena’s hair aside carefully. He loosened the neckline of her gown just enough to place the stethoscope’s chest piece against her skin. She stirred faintly, opening her eyes slightly for a moment. The sight of made her heart beat faster. What was that?
The doctor hesitated before finally leaning close to listen through the tube. After a few moments, he pulled back, cleared his throat, and spoke carefully.
"She has a common fever, my lord. A bout of the common ague," he said. "Nothing fatal. Rest and warmth will see her well. She’ll need to stay abed for at least three days. Keep her warm by the fire, brew her a pot of ginger tea, and let her sweat the fever out. If her pulse falters by nightfall, give her a draught of quinine."
Damien’s jaw unclenched slightly. "Fine. Leave the prescription with a servant downstairs."
The doctor bowed deeply and backed away to the door. A maid entered soon, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of chamomile tea. She placed it on the bedside table and fled quickly under Damien’s cold stare after he ordered her out.
When the room finally quieted again, Damien turned back to Elena. She hadn’t moved. Her eyes were half open and her breathing was still shallow. He sighed, then sat on the edge of the bed, taking the tray into his hands.
He reached under her back, lifting her carefully until she was upright.
She blinked weakly up at him, trying to clear the small, cream-colored remnants that gathered in the corners of her eyes. Damien reached out instinctively and brushed them away with the pad of his thumb.
Her breath caught at his actions.
"Wh-why are you being so nice to me...after yesterday?" She asked weakly, unable to hide her curiosity anymore.
Damien ignored her question, picked up the spoon and scooped some soup in it. He blew gently on the soup until the steam thinned. Then he brought it to her lips.
She hesitated for a moment before parting them slightly. The warmth spread through her body instantly, soothing her dry throat and calming the tremor in her hands.
Damien watched her quietly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You say you hate me," he murmured, "and yet I’m the one caring for you now. Funny, isn’t it?"
Elena looked up at him through tired eyes. "You don’t... have to do this," she whispered hoarsely.
He tilted his head. "I don’t," he agreed easily. "But I am. You could at least say thank you."
Her brow furrowed faintly. "I’d rather not."
He chuckled darkly under his breath. Elena made to move from the bed, just to put a little distance between them. When she tried to push herself up, he caught her wrist gently and tugged her back down onto his lap. The motion was effortless and fluid, leaving her stunned.
She gasped softly at his sudden action and she felt her face heat up with how near he was to him.
"Now," he said softly, his tone edged with warning, "if you don’t want this to turn into me forcing you, be a good girl and eat. Understand?"
Elena’s heart fluttered wildly as she tried to move, but she was weak, and his grip was firm yet strangely gentle. She made to get up but his hands pin her down to his laps.
His hot and cool breath rained down her neck and she felt her whole body go numb from it.
She sighed in defeat turned to face him on his lap. Damien made her lean against him slightly with her head resting against his chest as he continued to feed her slowly.
As he fed her, a small frown was plastered on her face. Damien found her puffed up, pouted lips amusing and for the first time in centuries, a smile played across his lips.
It was small and fleeting but there nonetheless.