Claimed by the Prince of Darkness-Chapter 108: The Smell of Soap

Ruelle looked at Ezekiel whose concern had cost her nights of pain. Even now when the fabric of her clothes brushed against her back, she remembered the pain. She was about to turn away when he caught sight of her and questioned,

"Ruelle, where have you been all these days? All of us have been so worried about you," Ezekiel’s brows drew together.

"I am doing fine," Ruelle murmured before asking, "Where is she...?"

"Caroline?" He let out a tired sigh as though the name itself weighed on him. "She took what happened in class badly. I don’t even know what brought upon such behaviour. I tried to calm her down. I told her she shouldn’t have behaved that way in front of everyone."

He then continued, "I think the pressure of the contract... it’s getting to her. It hasn’t been easy," he gave a helpless smile.

The argument from earlier with Caroline still rang in his ears—

’What was that, Eze?’ Caroline demanded, bewilderment and hurt tangling in her voice as they stopped at the end of the corridor. ’What is going on between you and Ruelle?’

’What nonsense are you talking about now? You just made a spectacle of yourself in my classroom.’ His jaw tightened before he continued, ’This is where I work, Caroline. A place where people respect me. And you thought it was appropriate what you did back there?’

’I—I made a scene?" Her expression faltered at his words as she asked. "You and she are the ones making a fool of me! Is that why you’ve been distant?’

He let out a slow breath through his nose. He rubbed his forehead and remarked,

’There is nothing like that. You are overthinking as usual.’ He turned slightly away, as though this conversation had already dragged on too long as he looked in the direction of the class. ’She disappeared for a week. No one knew where she was. Of course I tried to look for her, she is your sister.’

’You were looking for her?’ Caroline’s voice cracked. ’When did I ask you to do that? Since when is that your responsibility? Since when is she more important than your own wife’s freedom?’

Her thoughts began racing faster than she could speak them, horror stitching together its own story in her mind. Ezekiel said quietly,

’Go to your room and cool your head before you cause more damage, Caroline. Just because Ms. Gilbert chose not to address your behaviour doesn’t mean the others won’t. The least you can do is stop dragging me down with you.’

Caroline flinched, her hand shaking before her hand raised and she slapped him across his face in rage. Tears pooled into her eyes and she sobbed, ’How could you do... Ezekiel!’ before running away from there.

Back in the present, Ezekiel pushed the memory aside. He said,

"I am sorry about what happened in the class. Caroline shouldn’t have done that."

Ruelle gave a small nod.

"You have been quiet. Is something the matter?" Ezekiel asked, and he went to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, "You can always talk to m—"

Ruelle took a step back before his hand could reach her, leaving it suspended awkwardly in the air.

She was mentally exhausted and she wanted to stay away from everything that was connected to her family. Her lips parted to speak,

"Mr. Henley, there are enough misunderstandings and Caroline wouldn’t like it if you spoke to me. Please don’t touch me," her lips set into a thin line after she spoke carefully. "For my peace and for your own, please refrain from talking to me."

Ezekiel’s hand slowly lowered and for a moment, he simply looked at her. After everything he had done.... This was how she was responding?

"Ruelle..." Ezekiel’s voice dropped, softer now, almost hurt. "Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?"

"What is?" Ruelle frowned slightly. She noticed a faint crease forming between his brows, as though he were the one trying to understand her. She said, "I don’t want Caroline to misunderstand—"

"Ruelle," Ezekiel’s hand which had lowered a moment ago, curled faintly at his side before he forced it to relax. He gave a tired smile, the kind that asked for understanding as if the other person was being unreasonable. "I only got involved because I didn’t want you to be alone in all this. You don’t have to shut me out just because others misunderstand us."

"What...?" she whispered taken aback, feeling the corridor grow narrower.

It was the first time she had felt uneasy being near him. It was as if she owed him.

Before another word could be spoken, Ms. Gilbert called him from the other end of the corridor,

"Mr. Henley, we need to head to the next class."

Ruelle turned and caught the Seduction Techniques instructor wearing a grim expression and it made her question how much of their conversation she had overheard. Taking the interruption as an opportunity, she bowed her head before stepping away from there.

When night settled over Sexton, Ruelle returned to her room. The corridors were quieter now, the usual noise softened into muffled voices behind closed doors. She could hear the occasional echo of distant footsteps.

Right now, Ruelle reached for a cloth, tied it around the end of a thin wooden rod and began dusting the place. It was a repetitive motion, something to keep her occupied.

Her gaze drifted upward to the high shelves where a faint line of dust still clung along the wood.

"Oh, you think you can hide up there?" she spoke to the dust. "None of you will survive under my watch."

She dragged a nearby chair across the room, its legs scraping softly and climbed onto it. When she tried to step onto the armrest to gain a little more reach, the hem of her skirt caught against her ankle, tugging and threatening to trip her.

She then gathered the front of her skirt in both hands and tied it loosely at her waist, freeing her legs. Placing one foot on the armrest and the other on the cushion, she steadied herself with a hand against the wall before she continued to clean.

She was so focused on reaching the far corner of the shelf that she didn’t hear the door open.

When Lucian stepped into the room, he had not been prepared for what greeted him. His breath stalled.

"Only if I were a little taller this wouldn’t be so difficult..." he heard Ruelle murmur.

She stood balanced on the armrest, reaching toward the high shelf, entirely unaware of his presence. Light from the fireplace washed over her in a warm glow, turning the loose strands of her blonde hair to gold. The movement had drawn her skirt higher than she realised, revealing the fine line of her ankle as she stretched.

He noticed the bruise on the back of her calf which hadn’t disappeared. His jaw tightened, and he turned toward the door at once, which he hadn’t shut behind him. His hand caught the doorknob as he closed his eyes.

Foolish thing.

Then, with more force than necessary, he slammed the door closed.

Ruelle gasped, nearly losing her balance as she hurried down from the armrest. She said, wide-eyed, "You—You frightened me."

Lucian did not turn. His hand remained on the doorknob.

"A door is the least of the things you should be worried about," he murmured before turning to look at her with a quiet intensity. He glanced at the open book that was left on the couch and he remarked, "Books are usually opened with the intention of reading them. Or did you leave it open for the ghosts to educate themselves?"

"I was reading... I just got stuck on the same page for a while," she said with a small, apologetic smile, setting the duster aside and brushing her hands together. She untied the skirt, letting the hem fall freely. "It just stopped making sense after a while."

"Strange," Lucian hummed nonchalantly, "I thought you were studying with someone exceptionally qualified."

"Who? Hermes?" Ruelle asked, watching him unbutton the cuff of his shirt. "He would have helped but Edward was busy talking about his trips to the north and sword practice... so we never got any studying done," her eyebrows furrowed. Then she smiled, "But it was lovely to hear the stories even if we don’t get to visit it."

Lucian held her gaze a moment too long as if weighing something that didn’t surface. He then said at last, "Get your book."

Ruelle brightened and hurried to fetch it. She could always rely on him when it came to helping her understand the subjects. She pulled the chair she had been standing on earlier and moved it to sit beside him.

And while she listened with all her attention to what Lucian was explaining, somewhere in the middle her thoughts drifted after ten minutes. If he didn’t take the position at the courthouse, she thought to herself, he would make an excellent instructor at Sexton. Dane was a good teacher, a kind one too, though she doubted anyone would ever use the word ’nice’ for Lucian. Not with the way his eyes could snap toward someone with that quiet glare...like now.

She blinked and realised he had stopped speaking. His eyes had narrowed slightly.

"Since you’re no longer listening, you must already understand," Lucian’s words were calm. Her eyebrows lifted just in time to see him write something across the parchment. He slid it toward her. "Then solve this."

Ruelle bent over the parchment, her brows drawn in concentration as she worked through the equation.

"You should teach Edward sometime. He might actually understand it then," she said softly, her eyes on the parchment in front of her. "Hermes tries, but explaining doesn’t look like his strength."

After a moment, she asked, "Do you think if I score well enough... I could become a governess one day?"

"The chances are slim," Lucian said, turning a page of his book.

"Because the groundlings are bought before that?" she asked looking up at him now.

"Yes." His voice neither raised nor fell. He took her parchment to check it and explained, "A governess’s work is rarely what people imagine. Less dignity than duty. Especially for a human. What made you think of it?" he asked as his eyes skimmed her work.

Ruelle hesitated before answering, "Most of the humans in my class weren’t pleased to hear I’m still... unclaimed by Sexton. Ms. Gilbert said the earrings will be given to me soon." Her fingers tightened slightly in her lap before she leaned closer, trying to follow the corrections he was making. She then said aloud, "I was wondering if I should run away before that happens. What do you think?"

"Run," Lucian repeated, a faint note of dry amusement threading through the word as he turned his head toward her. "And where do you—"

But he didn’t finish.

The space between them had vanished. Ruelle suddenly became aware that if either of them moved carelessly, they would feel the other’s breath. The thought made her pulse stumble. She could sense the quiet, steady heat that didn’t match the cool composure Lucian always wore.

Loose strands of dark hair had fallen over his forehead. It cast his gaze in shadow, stealing some of its composure and leaving something darker and more dangerous beneath.

"Belmont," Lucian said, his voice edged thin with restraint, "are you trying to offer yourself as a meal?"

"Of course not," Ruelle frowned, a hint of concern touching her voice. "Why? Did you skip dinner?"

His hand moved without thought to the back of her chair, fingers curling into the wood until it gave a faint creak under the pressure. His eyes did not leave her face like a predator that had noticed its prey. He remarked, "I can smell the soap on you." 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Ruelle quickly pulled back at once and rose to her feet.

"I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. I will study the rest," she added, before gathering her things and avoiding his gaze. Without waiting for a response she walked to the couch.

Several minutes later, Ruelle sat with the blanket pulled over herself. Her book rested on her lap while her eyes falling to the same line she had already read three times.

Was Lucian annoyed with her? It had been a while since he had glared at her, she thought. She risked a glance only to find him reading with his legs one over the other and slightly crossed.

She lowered her gaze at once, her pulse skipping and her face still hot.

A moment later, frowning to herself she lifted her hand and brought it closer, softly smelling her skin.

Across the room, Lucian had not turned a page for some time. The glass of water he had poured earlier sat untouched on the table beside him, the light belonging to the fireplace trembling faintly across its surface.

His gaze remained lowered to the glass, where her small movement slipped through the faint reflection. Then he reached for the glass, taking a slow sip from it.