chapter 92: Conflicted

In the luxurious bathroom, Damien was completely surprised by the sudden, passionate kiss. The intensity of her embrace shattered the last of his self-control, leaving him breathless and overwhelmed by the unexpected rush of emotions.

As he gently held the back of her head, he matched her fervor and took the lead in their kiss. She let out a soft moan as their lips met, sliding her hand over his strong chest, infusing tenderness into their embrace. At the same time, he ran his fingers through her wet hair, adding a touch of fervent passion to their intimate moment.

In a mesmerizing instant, Damien deepened the kiss, whisking her away from reality and into the realm of her deepest desires. She savored the taste of his kiss and felt the rise and fall of his chest, immersed in the enchanting experience.

Lost in the enchanting rhythm of their embrace, she surrendered herself to the captivating moment. Tracing the curves of her jaw and the softness of her lips, he gradually eased the intensity of the kiss, longing to gaze upon her face and behold her beauty.

Their lips parted briefly as Damien gently repositioned himself, cradling her against the side of his neck. She drifted into a peaceful slumber, her chest rising and falling in a tranquil rhythm amidst their passionate exchange.

A soft chuckle escaped Damien's lips, unable to believe she had fallen asleep at such a pivotal moment. Gazing at her naked back, he sighed before lifting her in his arms within the bathtub.

Damien held her with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his deep affection, as the world outside remained shrouded in the soothing stillness of the night.

After emerging from the bath, his attire saturated and water trickling down his form, he found himself unable to reach for a towel, occupied as he was in cradling her. Instead, resorting to a curious method of communication, he sent a message through the ether to Venessa, entreating her to join him in the ward.

Standing within the confines of the lavishly adorned bathroom, still embracing her, he patiently awaited Venessa's arrival in the private sanctuary housing Mr. Turner. After a brief interval, Venessa appeared and observed Mr. Turner in peaceful repose on the bed, encumbered by a web of monitoring wires. Leaving him undisturbed, Venessa made her way to the bathroom.

Ushering herself inside, she was taken aback by the sight before her. "My goodness, what happened, Damien?" she inquired, her eyes alight with astonishment and concern. Swiftly procuring white towel, she covered Lauren who remained nestled in his arms.

"Retrieve the bag and join me at the penthouse," Damien instructed, paying no heed to her questions. Utilizing his vampire-like super speed, he disappeared. Venessa, perplexed by the situation, chuckled softly before vanishing as well, carrying the bag of clothes Damien had brought for Lauren to change into.

"Please clean her up and dress her," he simply requested, gently laying her on the bed, still wrapped in the towel. He then proceeded to the shower to relief himself and attend to his personal needs.

As cold water enveloped him in the shower, his thoughts turned tumultuous, recalling the events in the bathtub. A tempest of conflicting emotions besieged him, he wondered whether he should feel happy for hearing her confession and her initiating the kiss, or anger at himself for allowing his emotions to overwhelm his sense of reasoning, responding so intensely to the kiss when he knew she was sleep-talking.

Stepping out of the shower, wrapped in a white towel, he changed and made his way to the room where Lauren lay sleeping. Venessa had already left after helping Lauren change into the silky red nightie he had bought. She had neatly covered her with a duvet.

Taking a seat beside Lauren, he watched her sleeping form, her breath rising and falling gently. "You must be exhausted," he murmured quietly. Ensuring she was comfortably covered, he then moved to a sofa opposite her, r.

Seating himself beside her, he observed her steady, undulating breaths as she lay immersed in the tranquillity of the night.

"You must be truly tired," he remarked softly, affording her a gentle murmur of solace. With a tender hand, he ensured the snugness of her duvet before departing her side, taking up residence upon a nearby sofa keeping a silent vigil over her tranquil slumber.

Meanwhile at LUX...

Amidst the luxurious richness of LUX, the esteemed pair of Marcel and Serafina made a grand entrance, their arrival igniting a smoldering undercurrent of accusatory gazes from the vampires that loitered within the expanse, well-aware of Marcel's infamous lineage—a witch from a family with an established acrimony toward their kind. Unperturbed by the weight of their disapproving stares, she seized his arm and ushered him toward the secluded recesses of the VVIP lounge, an enclave imbued with the hush of exclusivity.

"I've often heard talk of the grandeur and unparalleled luxury of LUX from my associates and business affiliates, and I must admit, it truly lives up to its resplendence," Marcel mused, his eyes sweeping in admiration of his surroundings.

"And yet, you'd be a regular patron were it not patronized and owned by a vampire, am I correct?" Serafina inquired with a coy smile, extending a crafted cocktail procured by the skilled hands of the resident mixologist bartender.

"How did you know that?" Marcel queried, an air of surprise tinging his words, only to be stricken by the realization that she had effortlessly gleaned the thought from his mind.

"It is rather impolite to peruse another's thoughts without consent," he admonished gently, tipping back his cocktail with seasoned composure.

"Your thoughts lay bare for any to glean, particularly the discerning eyes of the vampires within this establishment, hence the steely glares upon our arrival," she retorted matter-of-factly, conveying a quiet acknowledgment while unveiling the unsettling truth—the aversion he harbored towards vampires and the palpable disdain that pervaded his thoughts were laid bare for all immortal vampires within the club to see.

Grimacing as the scorching fervor of the potent cocktail coursed through his being, he remarked, "That is quite a mean cocktail but I love it, my word," conspicuously sidestepping her observation. Indeed, she had hit the proverbial nail on the head—he harbored a pronounced disdain towards vampires, a sentiment wrought from a harrowing childhood experience, he held no desire to feign affection or apologize for it.

"You're aware that I can discern your every thoughts, aren't you?" she interjected, flashing him a lopsided smile. He was captivated by the sheer radiance of her smile, pondering whether she was aware of its enchanting effect, capable of subduing even the most stoic of men. A fleeting thought crossed his mind—was she deliberately employing this beguiling charm to test his resolve, to witness if he, too, would succumb as others might?

As she graciously entertained his unsuspecting thoughts, her countenance blossomed with an alluring smile, displaying a captivating tapestry of gentle mirth and beguiling charm.

"I must insist, stop smiling," he finally declared, swiftly downing the contents of his glass in one fell swoop. The searing fervor of the concoction proved to be overwhelming, evoking an involuntary fit of coughing.

Reacting to his discomfort, she promptly extended a glass of water, seeking to temper the aftermath of the potent cocktail.

"Well you shouldnt have done that to yourself" she remarked with a soft but unwavering smile, her warmth unfaltering in the face of his unease. her disarming smile unsettled him, prompting a deliberate shift in his gaze, seeking refuge from its enchanting impact.

"Could you enlighten me on the art of sealing the doors of my mind?" he inquired innocently, inadvertently coaxing forth yet another bemused smile from her.

"I do believe I asked you to desist from smiling," he countered, his lips pausing in a silent plea as his attention moved to another focal point. Since their initial encounter, there existed an inexplicable allure about her, rendering him acutely susceptible in her presence, a disconcerting truth he struggled to reconcile.