Elowen sat frozen as Julian gently applied the balm to her ankle. His hands- steady, cool, and deceptively gentle- massaged with surprising care. It hurt, yes, but there was something deeper threading through her body now.
Confusion.
Why was he doing this?
She dared a glance at his face. Still and unreadable. But something flickered in his eyes… something she couldn't name. Not quite kindness. Certainly not affection. Yet it wasn't cruelty either. It was something more… dangerous. Something that made her heart beat faster.
"There," he said at last, his voice low. "Rest."
She blinked at him. That was it?
He stood, buttoning the top of his shirt with the same practiced nonchalance he used to intimidate court officials. His expression was back to its usual cold detachment.
For a moment, Elowen let herself believe the devil had… softened.
That perhaps Julian wasn't just thorns and shadows.
But hope, as always, was a foolish thing.
Hours later, just as she had begun to drift into a strange, exhausted calm rest on the couch, his voice came from across the room.
"Miss Grantham. Update tomorrow's schedule. Use the large ledger in the drawing room."
Her eyes snapped open.
"You want me to… what? Now?"
He didn't answer. He didn't look at her.
Elowen gritted her teeth, stood, and began limping toward the door, muttering curses beneath her breath.
"The devil care, I thought. What an idiot. Absolute fool. He probably smiled while plotting this exact moment."
She reached for the stairs with the grace of a three- legged cat, holding the rail with one hand and her pride with the other. She walked slowly, carefully, wincing slightly with every other step- though she'd rather die than let him hear her complain again.
"Wildflower, he calls me," she hissed under her breath, limping one step at a time. "More like weed to him, just growing in the wrong place."
Downstairs, she found the large ledger on the ornate mahogany table. She opened it, the pages smelling faintly of dust and ink. Schedules, appointments, correspondence. She sighed, dipped the quill into the inkpot, and began transcribing.
The ledger was already updated. She sighed. She began studying his schedules, he would make a thick on the accomplished ones. Elowen found only his handwriting on the thousand pages of the ledger. "Seems he has been the only one working on this…"
Meanwhile, in the study upstairs, Julian stood by the open window, the dusk breeze tugging at the curtains. His coat was draped over one arm, his expression unreadable.
"Tomas," he called, his voice carrying easily through the silent hall.
The door opened swiftly.
"My Lord?"
"Prepare the carriage. I'll be stepping out."
Tomas blinked. "Now, my Lord? It's nearly dark…"
Julian turned a slow gaze on him, one brow slightly arched.
Tomas bowed instantly. "Yes, of course."
As the man turned to go, Julian spoke again.
"And Tomas…"
The butler paused.
"Make sure Miss Grantham is given dinner."
Tomas's eyes widened just slightly before he managed to school his features.
"Sire?" he said, unable to hide his surprise.
A beat of silence followed.
Julian's voice came slower this time, colder with a wisp of amusement. "Is that surprise written across your typically blank face, Tomas?
The man cleared his throat quickly. "No, my Lord. Not at all."
Julian smirked faintly, eyes gleaming like polished onyx. "See that she finishes her task, even if it takes till midnight. Then give her a ride home."
Tomas bowed again. "Yes, my Lord."
But as he left the study, his thoughts for once raced. The master never cared. Not like that. Not enough to offer rides and dinner. What in the gods name was this girl doing to the Lord of Eldhollow?
And why did he suspect that she had no idea of it herself?
Back in the drawing room, Elowen continued her work, murmuring under her breath about ink stains and cursed vampires. She was halfway copying the foreign delegation schedule when a sudden voice broke the silence behind her.
"Well, well, look who's made herself at home."
Elowen turned, startled.
There in the doorway stood a lady dressed in sapphire- blue silk, her hair the shade of midnight with glints of silver. Eyes sharp, lips curled in a knowing smirk. The copy of the daredevil himself but in smiling, female form.
Seraphine.
Julian's sister.
Elowen swallowed. The room suddenly felt smaller.
"Lady Seraphine," she greeted cautiously, setting the quill down.
"Ah, she knows my name…" she giggled.
Seraphine sauntered in, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor. "So, it's true. My brother has brought in a little pet to play with." She said smiling broadly.
Elowen stiffened. "I'm not his pet, Ma"
"No? you're limping around in his house, in his clothes, on his errands." She taunted, examining her nails casually. "Sounds rather… owned darling."
"I'm simply working. I'm employed…"
"Employed?" Seraphine laughed lightly, twirling a lose strand of hair. "Don't be so naïve. My brother doesn't employ anyone, sweetheart. He plays with them. And once he's done…" she clapped her hands once, softly. "Poof."
Elowen stood her ground, chin lifted. "Then it's a good thing I don't break easily."
Seraphine tilted her head, genuinely intrigued. "You don't scare easy either. How's fascinating."
A pause lingered.
"What's the name, Human?" Seraphine asked.
"I am Miss Grantham." Elowen said.
Then the vampiress moved closer, her expression unreadable. "Let me give you some advice, Miss Grantham. Whatever you think you're doing here… I don't mind, but don't get so attached… whatever it is you're do…"
Elowen met her gaze steadily. "I think I'm surviving."
Seraphine laughed again- this time quieter. "Ah, a fighter. He'll like that."
And with that, she turned, laughing and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, her presence lingering like perfume and poison.
Elowen sat slowly, the echo of that laugh still in her ears. She picked up the quill again, but her hand trembled just slightly.
The devil had disappeared into the night, his sister was a riddle wrapped in surprise, and she… she wasn't sure if she was falling into a trap.
Or becoming the bait.