Chapter 28 At their school
Rain’s alarm rang far too early, but the sound of the twins’ excited voices pulled her from the remnants of her sleep. Noah was already bouncing on the edge of the bed, his pajama top half off, hair sticking up in every direction. Lia was humming a song she’d invented about penguins, twirling in circles with a school backpack far too large for her small frame.
“Rain! Rain! Hurry! We’re late!” Lia exclaimed, tugging at the sleeve of Rain’s robe.
“I’m up! I’m up!” Rain sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her head felt heavy, a lingering fatigue from the past few days, but she forced a smile. “Let’s get you two dressed before I carry you in my arms like shopping bags.”
Noah groaned dramatically. “I can dress myself!”
“Sure, if you want to look like a tornado hit your wardrobe,” Rain teased, ruffling his hair.
By the time they had managed somewhat acceptable school uniforms, they were already late. Rain grabbed backpacks, water bottles, and the small lunchboxes she had prepared in haste, while the twins jabbered nonstop about the latest aquarium adventure.
“Noah saw the octopus dance!” Lia said dramatically, spinning. “It waved at him! It waved at me! You missed it, Rain!”
Rain laughed softly. “I didn’t miss it. I just… maybe blinked. But I’ll take your word for it.”
Noah leaned closer, whispering, “You think Rosee saw us at the tanks?”
Rain glanced at him, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “If he did, you owe me twenty lines of apology for chaos.”
“Twenty lines?!” Lia shrieked, rolling her eyes. “No fair!”
By the time they reached the car, Rain’s smile was wide, but she already felt the tug of responsibility weighing down her chest. She dropped the twins at school, holding their hands as they skipped down the steps.
“Bye, Mum!” Noah yelled, waving furiously.
“Mum! Mum! Mum!” Lia echoed, giggling as she waved both hands.
Rain froze. Mum? Her heart skipped a beat. She turned to see the twins’ classroom teacher peeking from the door, her eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline.
“Excuse me,” the teacher said cautiously, “did they just call you… their mum?”
Rain’s cheeks flushed a deep pink. “I… um… just taking them to class, ma’am. They… sometimes say things like that.”
The teacher blinked. “Right. Well… carry on, I suppose.” She hurried inside, muttering something under her breath about spoiled children.
“Noah! Lia! That’s not appropriate!” Rain called after them, laughing despite herself. The twins waved one last time, then disappeared into the classroom, leaving Rain standing in the hallway, trying to stop the giggles from escaping.
Well, she thought, that’s a first.
By the time she returned to the mansion, a light drizzle had begun to fall. Rain’s shoes squeaked against the marble floor as she entered, happy to finally have a quiet moment. She set down her bag and sighed, savoring the calm.
But the calm didn’t last long. Her smile froze. A crimson stain gleamed ominously on the polished floor, streaking in unnatural patterns that made her stomach lurch.
“Blood?” she whispered, heart thudding painfully. Her mind raced. Please not him. Please not him.
She ran down the hall, every step echoing in the vast corridors, until she reached Rosee’s room. The door was ajar, and the sound inside made her blood run cold.
“Rosee?” she called softly, stepping in.
The scene that met her eyes was… unsettling.
Rosee stood in the center of the room, veins prominent along his neck, jaw clenched, eyes wild. He gripped the edge of the desk for support, white-knuckled. The faint smell of iron hung in the air. He was pacing, rocking, muttering something under his breath.
“Blood… I need… blood…” he hissed, voice strained and ragged.
Rain froze. Every instinct screamed at her—he’s sick. He’s weakening. He’s hurting. She stepped closer. “Rosee… what’s happening? You’re not well.”
He whipped around, eyes blazing, a feral edge sharpening his features. “I can’t… I need… I can’t control it!”
“Listen to me,” Rain said firmly, moving closer despite the fear curling in her stomach. “You’re getting weak. You’re burning yourself out. You don’t need to do this alone.”
Rosee shook his head violently. “I can’t… I can’t take it… I need—”
Rain swallowed, her heart hammering. “Then… then bite me. Take it from me, but stop destroying yourself.”
Rosee froze, lips parting as if tasting the possibility. “No.” His voice was low, firm, almost painful. “I… I cannot. Not you. Not like this.”
Rain’s stomach tightened. The vulnerability in his eyes cut through her chest. She wanted to reach out, to hold him, but even standing this close, the scent of his struggle—the raw, feral hunger—was overwhelming.
“Then let me help you,” she whispered. Her hand reached for his, fingers brushing over the taut skin of his wrist.
Rosee flinched but didn’t pull away. He was trembling, knees weak, veins visible even through the dark of his hands.
Rain’s mind raced. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to do this. I’ll help you, Rosee. Please.”
His voice cracked as he whispered, “I don’t… I can’t…”
Rain swallowed, forcing herself to stay steady, even as her pulse skyrocketed. She grabbed a clean towel from a nearby shelf and dampened it with cold water, pressing it to the edges of his mouth, where faint crimson stains threatened to drip. “Hold still,” she urged softly.
The trembling in his body was violent now, and she realized he wasn’t just sick—he was weakening at a pace that terrified her. “Rosee… please. You need to rest. I need you to rest.”
He finally sank to the floor, collapsing into her arms, and she held him tightly, breathing in his scent—iron, faint leather, and something uniquely him. His body shook against hers, small whimpers escaping. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to just feel the weight of him in her arms.
“You’re not dying,” she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “I’m not letting you die. I’ll take care of you.”
His fingers twitched against her back, gripping faintly, as if tethering himself to her calm presence. His voice was barely audible. “Rain… don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly, stroking his hair and shoulders. “Not until you’re safe.”
The raw, intimate moment hung heavy in the room. Rain’s heart pounded, every instinct screaming that he was vulnerable in a way he never let anyone see. And for the first time, she truly understood the depth of the storm he carried inside him.
Suddenly, the door clicked. Rain looked up to see a faint outline of the twins at the doorway. They hesitated, faces pale but curious, unsure if they should enter.
“Rain… is he okay?” Noah asked cautiously.
“Yes,” she said quickly, glancing down at Rosee. “He’s resting now. But you need to leave us for a moment. Go back to your room. Please.”
Lia’s lower lip trembled, but she nodded, whispering, “We didn’t mean to scare him.”
Rain squeezed their hands. “I know. You’re kids. You’re learning. Go on, okay?”
They scampered away, but she felt a pang of worry for the little ones. They had already been through so much, and now their secret involvement in the mansion chaos felt heavier than ever.
Rosee shifted slightly in her arms, eyelids fluttering. “Rain… stay…” he murmured.
“I am,” she whispered. “I won’t leave you.”
The storm outside the mansion intensified, rain pelting the windows in hard sheets, echoing the turmoil within. Yet inside, in the quiet chaos of the bedroom, there was a fragile, fleeting moment of peace, one held together by her presence and the unspoken promise that she would protect him, no matter the cost.
And as she held him, Rain realized that something was changing—not just in Rosee, but in herself. The connection, the danger, the intensity—it was pulling her in deeper than she ever expected.
Her fingers brushed over his jaw gently, tracing lines she had memorized, and she felt the softest exhale escape him, a mixture of relief and surrender.
Outside the window, lightning flashed, illuminating the storm, the blood-streaked floor, the fragile yet unbroken bond forming in the quiet chaos of the room. Rain knew the night was far from over. But for now… for this moment, she had him.
And that was enough.