Under the vampire Lord's protection-Chapter 210: Paralysed

Silas rushed back into the room with a glass of water in hand. He then placed it on the nightstand next to the bed in order to retrieve his dagger.

"This water is from the basement well. It is as clean as everything else in this house,"

Lying flat on her back, Arabella’s irises followed each and every one of Silas’ motions as for that time being, it was all her body was capable of.

Although her jaw and tongue too remained under her control, "I don’t want to drink it," she said right as the vampire brought the blade to his palm.

"I am afraid it isn’t a matter of want but rather of must," he’d already slashed his hand open by then.

"No, I won’t," she retorted with a tad more firmness.

Her tone had the merit of stopping him in place. He looked back at her, his diamonds sinking deeper into her gemstones by the second.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked.

Arabella noted that the flesh around the gash on his palm had already begun to regenerate, "We’ve gone through the trouble. I don’t see why we shouldn’t see it to the end," she whispered.

Aside from the wind whistling through the dwelling with newfound shyness, only the sound of her haggard breathing filled the room.

"You are quite literally paralyzed," he pressed harder on some syllables than on others.

In response, the young woman’s eyes traveled downwards, towards the fingers of her hand that wiggled very sheepishly.

"I’m starting to recover my motor functions,"

She attempted to reassure him, but the twitching of her facial features told the story of her struggle without words.

"This is absurd. I-"

"Please," her pleading cut him off mid-sentence, "I know I am in no serious danger. The effect of the Mirari should only last a few hours at best, perhaps even less than an hour,"

"You knew this could happen," he half asked but in the tamest tone Arabella had ever heard from him.

"And you didn’t," she too phrased it like a simple statement, but her intonation indicated interrogation.

"I never had to find out. I’d never bitten anyone in this fashion,"

Silas sat down by her side and very gently introduced his hand underneath her head before lifting it up to bring her upper body onto his lap.

Her complaints were reduced to mere, barely audible winces she did her very best to contain.

"The first time you’d ever bitten me; this did not happen. My assumption is that it’s because right after the first sip of my blood you’d syphoned, you’d taken your fangs out and sent me away," she took the deepest of breaths once her sentence was over.

"I remember," he nodded, "It was after your very first day under our roof. You’d contracted something on your journey to Umbraria,"

"Does being ill affect the taste of blood?" she’d muttered the question, eyes exploring the traits that the sunlight spilling in so kindly enhanced on him.

"Not, necessarily," he paused before continuing, "I’d say the emotional state of the provider does matter more, but some physical ailments do leave a heavier, more pronounced taste than others,"

"I’d always wondered...," she trailed off, her gemstones drifting towards the ceiling.

"About this?"

"Yes. I had tossed and turned the question over and over again," the ghost of a smile, very meekly invaded her features, "When you sent me away that day, it solidified my beliefs that something was so inherently wrong with me that even a vampire was repulsed by me,"

"Do you still think that way?"

Both of their voices remained on the smoother, lower side, Arabella’s cracked at times but quickly recovered its pace after that.

"Not anymore. I don’t," yet another wince escaped her upon trying to shake her head, only to then find out the muscles in her neck refused to obey.

"Do not strain yourself," his hand traveled to her forehead where a few rebellious strands of hair lay.

Silas removed them tactfully, but not without patting her head a few times for good measure.

A short moment of silence followed, during which her irises went from him and to the ceiling again, then from there to the walls surrounding them before ending their journey through the open window.

"On the night of the ball," her voice chased that quietude away, "You were dressed for the occasion, but you never stepped as much as once into the ballroom,"

In reply, his eyes sort of narrowed, prompting her to backtrack on her words, "Forgive me. I shouldn’t speak of such things,"

"Shame," he started, "I’d like to hear the rest of it," his hand went back to coddling the clumps of hair nearest to her face.

Arabella inhaled deeply, trying with all her might to ignore the tickling his action induced, "I simply wondered why, at first and eventually concluded large gatherings weren’t your scene,"

"They definitely aren’t," his eyes fell onto the pendant he’d hanged around her neck, "They’re more of my mother’s,"

"I am merely bringing this topic because... We are here on this island and in this house which hold a certain significance to you,"

"Indeed," his hand froze mid-motion, "The only physical contact from people that weren’t my parents in my childhood stopped at the doctors examining me, then came training and fighting. The largest gatherings I’d attended were on battlefields,"

When the stiffness in his arm subsided, he resumed his previous action like nothing had happened.

"I am sorry," she whispered, "I did not mean to unearth such memories,"

"They were never earthed to begin with, but quite frankly, I am glad you mentioned this and even happier that you made the right conclusion now that you have the rest of the picture,"

Despite it all and out of habit, Silas still fought against his facial muscles to reel in the smile they brewed.

Neither of them had anything to share after that and the two held in their positions until Arabella was finally able to move her entire hand again.

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