CHAPTER 25

AVA CLARKE

While the tempting aroma of frying bacon fills the air, my thoughts drift to Mary's words, echoing in my mind like a somber reminder.

Mary warned me to be careful, cautioning about the possibility of vampires still lurking in the town.

Though I try to keep these dark thoughts at bay, the memory of Mary's stories haunts me, making me feel uneasy even within the seemingly safe confines of the mansion.

As I stir the eggs in the hot pan, I try to push away these intrusive thoughts.

I focus on the comforting sound of food cooking and the reassuring warmth emanating from the stove.

The hunger continues to gnaw at my stomach, a persistent sensation that I know will only be satisfied when I devour my meal.

Vampires.

I'm sure I'll never get used to that terrifying word. I close my eyes for a few seconds, and when I do, I remember the feeling I had when I saw those supernatural red pupils.

Furthermore, I don't know how I can forget that; I think it will be etched into my life forever.

Finally, when the eggs are ready and the bacon is crispy, I turn off the stove and transfer the food to a plate.

I sit at the kitchen table, the mansion's silence enveloping me like a blanket. Every bite is a burst of flavor in my mouth, a welcome distraction from the dark thoughts that assail me.

As I chew slowly, I allow myself to relax for the first time since I left my room.

The comforting warmth of the food fills my body, dissipating the cold sensation that has accompanied me since I stepped into the dark hallway.

I allow myself to sink into the tranquility of the night, savoring every moment of peace before grim reality returns to haunt me.

"The nickname little mouse is becoming more and more perfect for you.", I turn my head, able to hear footsteps, and I roll my eyes when, seconds later, Damien is standing in front of me, looking at me with an amused expression.

He looks at me with a smile, realizing that I'm sitting almost in the dark at the dining table eating while everyone else is asleep in this house, or almost everyone.

"Don't you have more important things to do than just annoy me, Damien?", I asked after chewing.

"Well, of course. But annoying you is one of the most fun things for me. Eggs with bacon, good choice, little mouse.", he says, and I count to ten to not stab him in the eyes with this fork.

I focus on my makeshift meal, trying to push away the dark thoughts that haunt me.

However, Damien's sudden presence, watching me as I eat, starts to deeply irritate me.

I try to focus only on the food, ignoring the green eyes of the white-haired man who looks at me with unsettling intensity.

I still don't know how this happens every time; it seems like he knows when I'm alone in the dark kitchen and comes to annoy me every time.

It's very late, and I'm surprised he's still awake at this hour.

But my irritation only grows as Damien continues to make comments that seem designed to provoke me.

Every word he utters makes me more tense and anxious to finish my meal quickly and escape from that uncomfortable environment.

"I hate you!", I say this with an angry expression, pointing the fork at him.

I blink my eyes, seeing him make a surprised and ironic expression, putting his hands over his heart as if he were completely offended by my comment.

"Wow! You completely broke my heart, Ava Clarke; I didn't know you felt that way about me!"

Oh my god.

As Damien continues to speak, I feel my patience rapidly dwindling.

I chew the food with renewed determination, trying to block out the annoying comments echoing around me.

However, Damien's insistent gazes and provocative words won't leave me alone.

Finally, I finish eating quickly, getting up from the table with a sigh of relief mixed with frustration.

I grab the dirty plate and take it to the kitchen sink, trying to focus only on the task at hand.

However, Damien's presence continues to disturb me, making me roll my eyes in a desperate attempt to control myself.

It's at that moment that I hear a whistle coming from behind me—a sharp sound that makes me turn my head sharply.

My eyes meet Damien's, who stares at me with a hungry look, scanning every part of my body covered by the short pajamas.

"Nice ass, little mouse.", he says, and I quickly roll my eyes.

I want to scream at him, to send him away, but a mixture of shock and anger leaves me speechless.

Instead, I just stare at him with an expression of anger, my fists clenched by my side in a gesture of pure frustration.

Damien's green gaze is now fixed on my face, and I furrow my brow, feeling some kind of sensation overtaking my body as he continues to look at me in this strange and unusual way.

Deep down, I know I need to get away from there before my anger overflows.

I drop the plate in the sink harder than intended, the metallic sound echoing through the kitchen. With quick and determined steps, I move away from Damien, determined to find some refuge away from that predatory gaze.

And before I can go up the stairs, I turn around, feeling Damien's hand touching my arm.

I shiver as Damien's hand touches my skin.

The touch is familiar, even through the gloves he insists on wearing. I frown, watching him very close to me, preventing me from returning to the comfort of my room.

My heart races as I try to control my breathing, feeling increasingly trapped by his presence.

I tremble slightly, breathing heavily as Damien's hand slides to my waist, bringing our bodies intimately close, as if he knows every curve of my body very well.

I lift my gaze to meet his green pupils, fixed on my face with an intensity that makes me uneasy.

What is he doing? Why is he so close to me right now?

"What are you doing?", I ask, noticing my voice is now low as I continue to look at him.

"Teaching you, little mouse. We have a ball, and you need to be prepared...", he whispers near my ear.

Damien responds without hesitation, saying he needs to teach the dance steps for the ball once again.

His voice is gentle, but there's something about it that makes me feel even stranger. I try to pull away, but Damien's hand on my waist firmly keeps me in place.

I can't help but wonder why he insists on teaching me to dance, especially at a late hour like this.