Time passed.
Work at the Farm settled into rhythm.
Tasks were divided without argument.
Movements between them became smoother, almost without thought.
They no longer clashed over every small instruction.
He learned quickly, and she corrected him less.
The distance between them shortened without either of them speaking about it.
They still spoke sharply.
But the sharpness had changed.
Auren worked nearby, repairing a broken wooden crate.
His movements were calm and precise.
He had removed his coat and rolled his sleeves back, revealing the strength in his forearms as he handled the tools carefully.
The sunlight catching the sharp lines of his face.
He was undeniably handsome…tall, composed, his dark hair perfectly in place, his posture straight without effort.
There was something naturally commanding about him, something that drew attention without him asking for it.
Even when he was still, he seemed impossible to ignore.
Evryn stood near the laundry tables in the courtyard, carefully sorting the freshly folded cloth into neat piles.
The scent of clean linen filled the warm afternoon air, but her attention was not fully on her task.
From the corner of her eye, she watched the younger maids drifting closer to him, circling slowly, adjusting their hair, laughing a little too brightly as they tried their luck.
And yet, he did not encourage them.
He did not lean closer.
He did not smile in invitation.
He did not take advantage of the attention so easily offered.
He listened politely when spoken to, answered briefly, and then let silence fall again.
There was no hunger in his gaze, no playful indulgence, none of the behavior expected from a man surrounded by admiration.
He was calm.
Detached.
Almost uninterested.
As if he had long ago learned that attention meant nothing to him.
That afternoon, sunlight filtered through the courtyard trees as they worked near the storage tables.
A breeze moved softly, lifting loose strands of her hair across her face.
She ignored it at first, focused on checking supplies.
Without thinking, Auren reached forward and brushed the strands gently away from her eyes.
He did not plan the gesture; he did not measure it.
His fingers barely touched her skin.
She watched him closely.
There was no arrogance in his expression now…only a quiet, heavy focus, as if he had acted on instinct and realized too late the weight of what he had done.
“You forget yourself often,” she said softly.
He stepped back then, restoring the distance between them.
“You observe too much,” he replied.
She turned to face him fully.
“You are not meant for this role, Auren,” she said.
He did not deny it.
“The way you speak.
The way you stand.
Even the way you walk,” she continued.
“I have worked beside vampire servants before.
I can see the differences clearly”.
His silver eyes remained steady, catching the afternoon light.
“And what do I move like?” he asked.
“Like someone used to command,” she answered calmly.
“Like someone who expects space to be made for him.”
She glanced toward the garden where Asric had stood before, his presence still lingering in the air.
“And your friend,” she added, “he carried the same air.”
He noticed she remembered.
“I do not ask questions,” she continued.
“It is not my place.
I do not know your story, and I do not need to.
You are here.
I will do my work.
That is enough.” She paused, looking at his hands, which showed no sign of the day’s strain.
“I guess you are a noble man, but fate made you work as a servant. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Perhaps you lost your money or have debts you cannot escape.
I just want to say you are ready now.
I have taught you everything; you can work alone.
This will make your salary higher, and you can even earn a promotion into a head servant position.”
Auren smiled under his breath, a small, dark amusement touching his lips as he listened to her suggestions.
He studied her face, realizing she was not demanding the truth, which unsettled him more than any interrogation.
“Are you truly helping me,” he said, his voice smooth and observant, “or do you simply want to be free from me?”
Evryn smiled, though her eyes held a trace of exhaustion.
“Both.
Just do something for yourself.
It is hard to see you work in a place that doesn’t suit you…I think it will never be your place.”
“I am fine beside you,” he replied simply, the words carrying a weight that changed the air between them.
“I won’t stay here long,” she said, looking away toward the path where Ray often waited.
“I will stop working after I am married.”
Auren’s gaze became intense, his silver eyes locking onto hers with a chilling certainty.
“I do not think so.”
Evryn stopped, her breath catching at the cold confidence in his tone.
“What do you mean?”
From across the courtyard, Ray watched.
He had been noticing the changes.
The smoother coordination.
The quiet glances.
The way Auren stood closer than before.
Ray stepped forward.
Evryn sensed him and immediately moved a step away from Auren, creating space that had not existed seconds before.
She picked up a basket and excused herself without looking at either of them.
Ray stopped in front of Auren.
“Stay away from her,” he said quietly.
” She will be my wife ”
Auren tilted his head slightly and studied him calmly.
“That is strange,” he said softly.
Ray frowned.
“What is?”
“That you speak of loyalty so firmly,” Auren replied, “while seeking entertainment elsewhere.”
Ray’s face drained of color for a brief moment before anger returned.
Auren’s smile was faint now, controlled.
“Trust me,” he said calmly, stepping closer just enough to lower his voice, “I cannot stay away from her, even if I want to”
The words were not flirtation.
They were fact.
Ray’s jaw tightened, rage burning in his eyes.
Auren stepped past him without another glance and walked toward the garden, leaving Ray standing alone with jealousy twisting in his chest.
Ray had not chosen Evryn because he burned for her, but because she was perfect.
She believed in love.
She believed in loyalty…
She guarded herself carefully
At first, he admired that.
Then he claimed it in his mind.
Ray had always viewed Evryn as a checklist of “rights.” the right choice to keep his life stable.
But seeing her with Auren had turned that stability into a bitter competition.
Ray didn’t just want Evryn anymore; he wanted to win.
He hated the way Auren existed…so calm, so powerful.
The kitchen was a chaotic furnace.
The lady of the house was hosting a massive banquet, and the air was thick with the smell of roasting meat and the deafening clatter of copper pans.
Evryn was in the eye of the storm, directing the chaos beside Brinna.
Auren was her shadow, moving heavy crates and boiling vats with an ease that made the other men look clumsy.
Then, disaster struck.
A servant tripped, his shoulder slamming into a prep table.
A massive pot of water, bubbling and white-hot, began to tip directly toward Evryn.
Auren didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t even breathe. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
He lunged, spinning Evryn into his chest and shielding her with his own body.
The boiling wave crashed over his shoulders.
The fabric of his shirt hissed as the water soaked through, and other servants screamed as the spray caught their arms.
Auren didn’t make a sound.
He didn’t even flinch.
He only tightened his arms around her, pulling her so close she could hear the thud of his heart.
The pain was a sharp, white flash before his immortal blood began to knit his skin back together.
He pulled back just an inch, his hands gripping her shoulders, his eyes searching hers with a desperate intensity.
“Are you burned?” he demanded, his voice low and ragged.
She shook her head, her eyes wide with shock.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” He scanned her face, her neck, her hands, looking for even a single red mark.
“Evryn, look at me.
Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine!” she insisted, her voice trembling with a sudden, sharp anger.
“You…
you idiot, it hit you.
You’re the one who’s burned!”
She wasn’t angry because he was clumsy; she was angry because he had jumped into the fire for her.
The spell in his chest didn’t just hum; it throbbed.
She cared.
That was why it still hurt…because seeing the pain in her eyes was worse than the boiling water on his skin.
Brinna and Ray rushed over, their voices a blur of “Are you okay?” and “Move out of the way.” Auren stepped back, the mask of the cold servant sliding back into place.
Without a word, he turned and walked out.
In the quiet of the servants’ quarters, Auren pulled off his ruined shirt.
His back was smooth, the skin pale and perfect, as if the water had been nothing more than a summer rain.
But his chest felt heavy.
So, Auren, he thought, this is the trap.
You cannot let her be hurt…not even in her heart.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
The door creaked open, and Evryn stepped in.
She was holding a wooden bowl filled with a sticky mixture of herbs, oil, and honey…
She stopped dead when she saw him.
Auren stood by the bed, shirtless and damp from the steam.
In the dim light, he didn’t look like a servant.
He looked like a king carved from marble…broad shoulders, powerful muscles, and a presence that made the small room feel like it was shrinking.
Her breath hitched.
She had never seen him like this.
He looked dangerous.
He looked…
beautiful.
She forced her gaze up to his face.
“I brought treatment,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
Auren stepped toward her, the distance between them vanishing.
He looked at the bowl, then back at her eyes.
“I am fine, Evryn,” he said.
The way he said her name just the soft sound of it…made her heart race.
“If there is even a small burn,” she whispered, looking at his unmarked chest instead of his eyes, “it should be treated.
I can…
I can ask Ray to do it.”
She set the bowl down on a small stool.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
The anger was gone, replaced by something fragile and new.
She turned and hurried out, closing the door behind her.
Auren stood in the silence, looking at his own hands.
He replayed the moment the water fell.
The way his body moved before he could even process the danger.
Was it the spell?
Or was it him?
He closed his eyes.
He realized, with a sinking feeling, that he no longer knew the difference.