I didn't miss the way Frederick stiffened on his side of the bed. His chest rose with a slow, deliberate inhale. He didn't turn. He didn't speak. But I felt the shift in the air, sharp and heavy.
"You're testing me," he said at last, his voice calm but carrying that low edge that made my wolf bristle.
I lifted my chin, glaring at his back. "Or maybe I just don't take orders from you."
Silence stretched between us, so thick I could hear the ticking of the old clock on the wall. For a moment, I thought he might leap up, snap at me, and try to put me in my place again.
But instead of snapping, he reached out and flicked the switch. Darkness swallowed the room.
My jaw tightened. Without hesitation, I leaned over and turned it back on. The faint glow returned.
A pause. Then click—dark again.
I clenched my teeth and pressed the switch once more, the light flickering back to life.
We went on like that—him turning it off, me turning it on. Back and forth. Back and forth. The air between us grew heavy, his patience clearly thinning, but I refused to give in.
The moment my fingers brushed the switch again, everything happened in a blur.
In an instant, Frederick was on me. His hand caught my wrist, and he pushed me down against the bed, his body hovering above mine. His pale face loomed close, his sea-blue eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
"Enough," he growled, his voice low but ragged, vibrating in his chest. "If you don't stop this little game, Olivia, I will tie you to this bed myself."
His grip on my wrist was firm, unyielding, pinning me in place. My wolf snarled inside me, thrashing to be let loose, but I forced her down, meeting his stare without flinching.
Then, as abruptly as he had moved, he released me. Frederick rolled away, pulling the covers over himself like I wasn't even worth his attention anymore. But he left the lights on.
Inhaling deeply, I remained still where I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Four long hours passed. I lay stiff on the bed, staring at the ceiling, too alert to slip into real sleep. My wolf stayed restless, pacing inside me, urging me to stay cautious. Every creak of the old house made me tense.
Finally, exhaustion won, and my eyes drifted shut—but never deeply. My body stayed half-awake, prepared for anything.
Hours later, the soft shift of movement pulled me back. My eyes opened instantly, narrow and sharp.
Frederick was already out of bed. He moved with a strange grace, his pale frame straight as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. Morning light bled faintly through the curtains, painting the room in silver and gray.
He noticed me watching but didn't seem bothered. His voice came cool, calm, matter-of-fact.
"Breakfast is served at eight. Don't be late."
I blinked at him, my lips twisting into a mocking smile. "Breakfast? Blood-sucking monsters eat?"
His head turned slightly, just enough for me to see the faintest smirk tug at his lips. But he didn't answer. Instead, he buttoned the last button of his shirt, smoothed his collar, and walked toward the door as if my words hadn't mattered at all.
I sat there for a moment, staring at the door he had closed behind him, before finally dragging myself off the bed.
I washed up quickly, splashing cool water over my face, trying to erase the marks of exhaustion around my eyes. My wolf stirred, still uneasy, reminding me not to relax. I searched for clothes but found nothing new laid out for me. Of course. Typical Frederick. I frowned and slipped back into the same clothes I had worn yesterday, smoothing them down as best as I could. It wasn't much, but I wasn't about to beg him for anything.
When I finally made my way downstairs, the faint scent of food—real food, not blood—drifted through the halls. It surprised me, enough to make my steps falter.
The dining room was wide, with long windows letting in the pale morning light. At the table, seated gracefully with her hands folded, was Frederick's sister.
She looked up when she saw me, and unlike him, her expression wasn't cold. She smiled. A genuine, soft smile that instantly caught me off guard.
"You must be hungry," she said warmly, her tone calm and friendly. "I've been waiting to meet you."
I blinked, my guard still high, unsure how to respond. But her eyes held no malice, no taunt—Only friendliness.
"Come, sit," she added, motioning to the chair across from her. "Don't worry. I don't bite."
Her little laugh was light, almost teasing—but not in Frederick's cruel way.
The warmth in her eyes didn't match the coldness of this house, and that alone made me suspicious.
I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. "Frederick told me he has a son… why isn't he here?"
Her smile wavered. Just for a moment. She looked down, fingers twisting together before she forced it back.
"He will be," she said quietly. "Soon."
The answer was simple enough, but the way she said it—too quick, too careful—told me more than the words themselves. She wouldn't meet my eyes, and the air suddenly became tense.
Something wasn't right.
My wolf stirred inside me, uneasy. "She's hiding something," she whispered.
I sat back, keeping my expression calm even though my thoughts spun. She wanted me to believe the boy's absence was nothing. But everything about her body language told me it was more. Much more.
Before I could press her again with more questions, a piercing scream ripped through the hall.
The sound was sharp, high, and full of panic.
Both of us froze. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝘯𝘦𝘵
A heartbeat later, the door burst open and a maid rushed in, her face pale, her breath coming fast.
"Ma'am," she stammered, clutching the doorframe. "He… he's at it again!"
My brow furrowed. Frederick's sister shot to her feet, her forced smile gone, now replaced by fear.