Lauden watched the two lovebirds perform their little dance under Reubon's twisted glare.
To the human eyes, dim light provided discretion, but to a vampire, darkness was a veil their corneas pierced through without hassle.
Heads around their table were turning, some looked at the man with pity while others judged him silently.
As a mere servant, Lauden could afford the luxury of not minding the looks. His Lord, however, did not sit in the same boat as him.
No, because while a servant remained forgettable for as long as they laid low, Dragomir had a name to keep out of the mud.
Sharing a table with the disgruntled father that made a scene during his own daughter's wedding, after he failed to control, her did not look all that good for his reputation.
"Would you lighten up a bit?" Darrick murmured, "I know it is difficult, but this is no funeral,"
Reubon kept his peace, eyes moving solely with the figure of Arabella as she danced in the arms of her husband.
