The Twenty-Seventh Chapter
This was the first time Rozelyn saw the entirety of Cyrill’s velvet-wrapped steel. His body was shimmering with sweat, making Rozelyn wholly quiver and waver on the inside. Electricity suddenly ran throughout her body; very much unusual for her to feel this kind of yearning towards her stepmom’s protégée.
He brushed his serpent on her stomach. The heat of his groin was pretty much enough for Rozelyn’s crevice to produce a milky liquid. She was panicking—as well as perplexed. Perplexed on why Cyrill can easily show his carnal interests towards her. She was confused because throughout their years of being under one roof, she had never seen him wild and ferocious like this very moment.
He pulled down the garment that was covering the skin of her milky abyss. Rozelyn just shut her eyes and let the man in front of her take over her body—now a vessel to the curse of the Blood Rose.
When she noticed that his snake didn’t cascade into her narrow cave, she decided to open her eyes. In disbelief and shock, he was just staring at her. His both arms were shaking. His eyes are unreadable.
‘You’re a freaking Thaumaturge!’Her higher-self shrieked at her.
Rozelyn scanned his mind. Before she could do that, Cyrill spoke. His voice was hoarse and…masculine.
“You really thought I would enter you, huh?” Cyrill mumbled in amusement—in mockery.
Her lips were trembling, as if the beta werewolf had the ability to fasten any woman’s tiny mouth.
“I-I am…I-I am just shocked t—”
Cyrill smiled. He smirked mirthlessly.
“You think I’m a fool?” He queried; circling her vividly erected nipples with his thumb.
She shook her head. Not in disagreement, but of disbelief—of dismay.
“How could you—”
Tears slid down from her face like the heavy rain that began to pour outside. Her voice was even drowned by the sound of thunder rumbling on the dark skies above.
If there is someone drowning her voice in this room, it was Cyrill. He is a devil in disguise, a trickster; making Rozelyn believe that he would give her a sensual dance amidst the fact that the walls have ears.
Before any of them could open their mouths, the door burst open. An auburn hair and russet-eyed vampire was standing by the threshold of the room.
Romaine was confused if she was going to smile or was she going to yell in incredulity.
“For Satan’s sake, who told the two of you to do that in the ancestral room?!”
‘Ancestral room…so that was what this empty room was called,’ Rozelyn spoke to her mind—her iconic soliloquy was turned on this time.
Cyrill, who immediately grabbed his and Rozelyn’s apparel, gave his stepmom a long piercing look.
“As far as I know, you’re the one who set us up…” He revealed.
Romaine was speechless—she couldn’t find a reason to deny that allegation. She sighed deeply before speaking, “But I didn’t tell you to do that in this hallowed room!”
“Oh...so you did really set us up?!” Rozelyn then crossed her arms; embarrassed and livid.
“Well—I mean you-you’re…” Romaine was uncomfortable, showing the fact that she’s not a good liar. Or is she?
“You need to feed your body as well, in terms of you know what I mean…”
“I know what you mean, Romaine. It’s just that—” Rozelyn sighed before continuing to speak. She glanced at Cyrill for a second then stated, “...don’t give me someone who is hesitant to do carnal desires.”
Cyrill flicked his head towards her—towards the still unclothed vampire.
“Hesitant? Do you know what’s the definition of hesitant or am I gonna read to you the definition from Merriam-Webster Dictionary?”
She’s definitely unhappy with the way he answered, the way he treated her nowadays. As expected, she yeeted him on the adjacent wall with an invisible force—in shock and anger—as if her own Thaumaturge powers had their own consciousness.
Cyrill was already filled with pain and bruises as Rozelyn ran towards him to help and heal his fresh wounds.
But, he brushed her off in such a powerful force—so strong that she stumbled on the concrete floor below.
“Get away from me, you whore of a bitch!” He yelled with great fury, with such genuine anger.
Rozelyn didn’t notice that she was already crying, that she was already sobbing. She sprinted so far away from the ancestral room that even Romaine couldn’t do anything but watch as the occurrence happened so quickly before she could even take her next breath.
The heavy rain drowned the sound of her sobbing as well as her tears. She was just standing in the middle of the courtyard— unclothed and wet amidst the freezing rain.
The other members of the coven and the pack saw her in that position, making them confused whether they’d cover their eyes or offer her to go back inside.
Vesta, the Elemental werewolf and weather manipulator, tried to stop the rain with her powers. But, it seems that the rain was no ordinary rain. It was being controlled by someone else more powerful—by Rozelyn Nadeshiko Zadzisai.
Romaine, who’s still wearing her supreme vampire uniform, walked towards her stepdaughter in a firm manner.
“Get dressed ‘cause we’re going home.”
Rozelyn was still staring at the sky. She was showing no interest in the outside world. The words that she just heard from Cyrill were no doubt enough to send her now in the ocean of depression, the sea of turmoil.
Romaine was in absolute ire and fury, shrieking in a tone that she had never used before to her stepdaughter.
“Get dressed now!!!”
The rain suddenly stopped. Sunshine was now flooding the entire place. The waters suddenly dried up as if the heavy rain never happened.
Romaine smiled. But her smile eventually vanished when she discerned that Rozelyn was now on the solid ground below—utterly unconscious.
***
Ludwig was trying to fill his lungs with air. The equivalent of his running away from those three freaking creatures of the night would definitely earn him a gold medal in the Winter Olympics.
“I never thought that those bitches had that white lily for an amulet. That whore of a flower can wholly counter the powers of this black rose!”
“Fear not, my darling…”
A sweet voice from behind him uttered. He was in the middle of this silent road, where the insects and the night breeze are the only one present. The place around him was in solid quietude. Only the sweet, sharp voice of the lady dressed in red broke the ethereal silence. Her face was ornamented with a glittery black mask that can only be worn during a lavish soiree.
“You have done well to enrage them. Now that they are in anger towards another, we can now use them as mere pawns. Thanks to that enchanted sand you blew towards the. They definitely didn’t know that it can cause chaos to one another....”
“What is that sand actually, Mistress of Blood?”
She smirked, showing her shiny white teeth to the handsome man.
“Those were from the leaves of the tree of the real-life Apple of Discord.”
“Apple of Discord? Like the one in Greek Mythology that caused the Trojan War?”
The Mistress of Blood nodded. Her voluptuous body was obviously the result of being bombarded with different sizes of men’s cocks.
“What do we do now?” Ludwig dared to ask, even though he knew that the Mistress of Blood’s answer may be quite vague.
“You’ll find out…” Her voice echoed in his ears. But, her corporeal form already dissipated into the thin air—as if the Mistress of Blood was not physically there.
***
The sound of their driving navy blue Sedan was the only thing resonating in Rozelyn’s ears. Cyrill and Romaine are quiet; no sign of verbal conversation was present between them. Their apparent unpredictable actions seem to drive her crazy and questioning.
‘For fuck’s sake, open a topic!’
Rozelyn mused, her both hands still shaking. She just recently woke up after falling unconscious in the middle of the falling rain.
She looked around. It was still the same thing she saw everyday in the interiors of their car.
She looked at herself. She was clothed in Cyrill’s clothes, which was obviously too big for her. The scent of pine and snow flooded her tiny brown nose, making her calm down for a bit.
But, as soon as she smelled that manly and werewolf-ish aroma, Cyrill’s harsh words reverberated again in her ears. It seems his words have plunged a deep and invisible wound in her beating heart.
She peered at them again. Still, no sign of acknowledgement of her being awake. To prevent her migraine from further shrouding, she lay down in the car’s back seat and took the entire available space. She then wittingly slept, with only her two hands serving as her head’s pillow.
