Irene closed her archaeology textbook with a soft thud, rubbing her tired eyes as the grandfather clock in the corner chimed eleven.
After Yin had left, she buried herself in ancient readings, partly for her studies and partly to avoid thinking about her completely messed up life situation.
She placed a palm over her mouth as she yawned, a reminder that she had to be in bed but she forced her eyes open.
Reading was much more better than lying in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering how she'd gone from aspiring archaeologist to unwilling vampire bride in less than a week.
She pushed back from the writing desk and stretched, her shoulders aching from hunching. Time for sleep, whether she wanted it or not. Tomorrow would bring fresh battles with her impossible husband, and she needed her wits about her.
The door to the bathroom opened silently when she dropped her book by the bedside drawer. What she hadn't expected was to find him emerging from the bathroom, droplets of water still clinging to his pale chest with a towel wrapped low around his waist.
Irene swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. For all his cold demeanor and medieval mannerisms, there was no denying that Yin was drop dead handsome.
She forced herself to look away, focusing intently on the intricate patterns of the Persian rug as heat crept up her neck. "Oh, come on," she muttered under her breath, her hand making a dismissive flicking motion in the air—a habit she'd had since childhood. "A little warning would be nice."
"This is my bedroom," Yin replied as he dried his hair with a cloth. "I wasn't aware I needed permission to bathe in my own home."
Irene rolled her eyes as she climbed into bed quickly, pulling the covers up to her chin and pointedly staring at the opposite wall. "Just... put some clothes on, would you? Some of us weren't raised in medieval bathhouses where modesty was apparently optional."
She heard the soft sound of cloth rustling as he put a nightshirt, followed by his footsteps across the room. The gas lamps dimmed one by one until the chamber was plunged into complete darkness.
"Oh, absolutely not." Irene shot up in bed, her hand already reaching for the bedside lamp. "I need the lights on."
The warm glow filled the room again, and she settled back against her pillows with visible relief. Darkness had never been her friend—too many childhood nightmares, too many strange dreams that felt more like memories than imagination.
"It's late," Yin said from his side of the enormous bed, his tone carrying the first hint of irritation she'd heard all evening. "Sleep requires darkness."
"Well, I require light." She tucked her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in a gesture that was both defensive and defiant. "Some of us have perfectly reasonable preferences about our sleeping arrangements."
"Your preferences are neither reasonable nor conducive to proper rest."
"Oh, excuse me for having opinions about my own comfort." Her hand made that familiar flicking gesture toward him. "I suppose in your medieval glory days, people just collapsed wherever they stood and called it a night?"
"In my time, people understood the natural order of day and night without requiring artificial lights to soothe their irrational fears."
The accusation hit closer to home than she cared to admit. "I don't have fears, rational or otherwise. I simply prefer to see my surroundings. Is that such a crime against your ancient sensibilities?"
Yin rose from the bed with fluid grace, moving toward the lamp with purposeful strides. "You'll learn to adapt to proper sleeping conditions."
"Don't you dare—"
The sound of shattering glass filled the air as Yin's fist connected with the lamp's delicate base. Ceramic shards scattered across the nightstand as darkness reclaimed the room, deeper and more complete than before.
Irene's breath caught in her throat. This was the first time she'd seen him act out of line and it sent shivers down her spine.
"There," his voice came from somewhere in the darkness, cold and satisfied. "Maybe now you'll reconsider your attachment to unnecessary lights."
"You... you actually broke it," she whispered, her voice smaller than she intended. Her hands were shaking as she pulled the blankets higher, as if the thin fabric could protect her from whatever lurked in the shadows.
"Indeed and I'll break every lamp in this house if necessary to cure you of this childish need for light."
The challenge hung in the air between them, unspoken but clear. She was completely at his mercy, trapped in his house, in his room and a subject to his whims and his temper.
She heard the bed creak as he settled back onto his side and she moved to the far end of the bed, keeping a safe distance from this vampire lord.
Yin, on the other hand stared at the ceiling he couldn't see, his mind turning over the same problems that had plagued him for weeks. The chalice's location was still elusive and the only person who could help had clearly lost everything memory she had.
He had centuries of experience in
manipulation and coercion, but this girl—this reincarnation of the woman who had once been everything to him—remained maddeningly resistant to his usual methods.
Maybe because some part of her soul remembered what he had done, what he was capable of becoming when his goals were threatened.
The hours crawled by slowly. Beside him, Irene's breathing eventually evened out into true sleep, though she tossed restlessly, sometimes murmuring words he couldn't quite catch.
When morning light began to seep around the heavy curtains, she stirred, blinking in confusion at the destroyed lamp before memory returned.
Without a word, she slipped from the bed and padded to the windows, her bare feet silent on the cold floor.
"This room is way too dark," she announced, pushing the curtains wide with more force than necessary. "A person could go blind trying to navigate—"
Sunlight flooded the chamber in golden streams, and she stopped mid-sentence as she stared at Yin in shock. The morning rays fell across his skin without the burning, smoking destruction she'd expected from gothic novels and whispered rumors.
Instead, he simply lay there looking mildly annoyed by the brightness, his pale skin unmarked by any supernatural affliction.
"Oh, come on," she breathed, her other hand moving to that familiar dismissive gesture. "I thought... that is, I expected..."
"You expected me to burst into flames?" There was dark amusement in his voice as he rose from the bed, moving with predatory grace despite the early hour. "How disappointingly cliche your imagination proves to be."
Before she could respond, he was across the room, his hands braced against the wall on either side of her, effectively trapping her between his body and the window.
"Let me make something crystal clear, wife," he said softly. "You can rage and scheme and try to make my life inconvenient in whatever petty ways your mortal mind can come up with. You can break my stuff, rearrange my furniture, and season my food with whatever nasty herbs strike your fancy."
His voice dropped lower. "But you will never escape my reach. No matter how clever you think you are, no matter what allies you think you might find, you'll stay exactly where I can see you, where I can ensure your safety and your... cooperation. Are we clear?"
Irene's throat felt dry as dust, but she managed a jerky nod, her hand moving unconsciously to make that flicking gesture. "Crystal clear."
"Excellent." He stepped back just as the bedroom door swung open.
"Oh!" Valda quickly closed her eyes. Yin in his nightshirt, Irene pressed against the window in her nightgown, the two of them clearly in some sort of intimate confrontation. "Forgive me, my lord, my lady. I thought you'd be dressed by now."
A knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth as her gaze moved between them, lingering on the broken lamp and the unmade bed with obvious speculation.
"I was simply ensuring my wife understood certain household rules," Yin said smoothly, already moving toward his dressing room.
He disappeared through the connecting door, leaving Irene alone with Valda's shrewd, calculating gaze.
"My dear," Valda said softly, moving to the wardrobe. "you look absolutely shaken. Maybe you need to reconsider your approach to managing your husband's... temperament."
Irene sank into the chair beside her vanity, her hand still making small flicking motions in the air. "I don't know what you mean."
"Of course you don't." Valda rolled her eyes as she laid out a day dress in deep blue silk. "But maybe I could offer some advice?"
Irene sat up, curiosity in her eyes as she waited for Valda to speak. Since valda was a vampire like Yin, she'd definitely know ways to teach him a lesson.
"Lord Yin has what you might call a particularly thick skin." Valda smoothened the creases in her skirt. "If you really want to make an impression on him, you need to be willing to be more... creative in your methods."
"How do I do that?" Irene arched a brow.
"It's very simple." Valda replied with a smile. Irene wanted help, right? She was going to give it to her but she should be ready to bear the consequences that comes with them.