After walking aimlessly without a clear purpose in mind, Ian found himself standing in front of a particular house.
He wasn't sure what had led his feet here, but there he was, standing before a small house in the darkness of the night, the sound of crickets loud in the air.
For a moment, he simply stood there, staring in silence, and then he caught it, that sweet scent of honey and milk.
It was her, her again, the reason he felt restless even in his family's company. Ian let out a weak sigh, his frustration evident in his breath.
His hand came up to the buttons of his shirt, and he freed the first two in quick haste. He felt like he was suffocating despite being outside in the open air.
"Fuck," he cussed under his breath, as the memories from the day flashed before his mind.
When she was trapped so delicately in his arms, like they were the perfect cage for her in his room. He had simply wanted to hold her, to savor her scent as it seemed to calm him.
He remembered wanting to kiss her, he had no way to make sense of what came over him, but he wanted to claim those soft lips of hers.
Yet, as he drew near, his eyes fell on the nape of her neck, and he suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to sink his fangs into her.
If he hadn't made her leave, he feared he would have done so.
He was a vampire who could control his dark needs after centuries of practice, so losing his cool like that made him question himself.
A faint glow of light flickered through one of the windows, soft and inviting against the cold stillness that surrounded him.
'Is she still awake?' Ian thought, his new, maddening impulse urging him to find out.
The matchstick burst into a small flame as it struck the matchbox. Camelia gently covered the tiny flame, guiding it toward the candle resting on her drawer.
After lighting the candle, she blew out the matchstick between her fingers. The room was now basked in the soft, warm glow from the candle.
She stared at the small fire in a daze as she rubbed her arms, the light giving her a semblance of warmth.
She had woken up in complete darkness and cold, the small touch light she left on to brighten her room long dead sometime in the night.
Her mother had still not returned when she got back from work. She had eaten alone and gone to bed without catching sight of her mother, something that had never happened before.
She wondered if she had returned while she slept and decided to go check her room.
She took the lit candle and left her room. Her feet padded softly on the wooden floor, each step followed by a creak that echoed in the darkness surrounding her.
When she reached her mother's bedroom, she knocked softly, then opened the door and stepped in, her eyes scanning around in small anticipation, only to see the room empty and the bed exactly the way she had seen it that evening.
Made and unused.
She sighed.
"Where are you, Mother?" she said in a low whisper.
With a downcast look, she returned to her room, but immediately froze when she got to the door.
Her window was open, the curtains dancing against the night breeze. The hairs on her arm rose, from the sudden cold and also fear.
The window was closed when she left, but meeting it open now only set her further on alert. Her eyes scanned the room for any intruder, but there was no one there.
She placed the lit candle down on her bedside drawer and walked over to the window in a steady haste. Looking outside, there was no one on the street; everywhere was dimmed in complete darkness with the absence of moonlight that night.
She closed the window back and dragged the curtains shut too, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as she walked back to her bed, but instead of lying down, she simply stood by it, rubbing her arms to warm herself.
She could not bring herself to entertain sleep again, not while her mother was God knows where.
Camelia could not come up with a single positive explanation as to why her mother was not back home yet.
She feared maybe she had been abducted by the rogues. Mrs. Bishop would usually leave the pack to find rare herbs to sell to the healer or whoever needed them.
But she never stayed out past seven p.m, that was why Camelia worried for her safety.
Brushing the thought aside briefly, Camelia decided to put on a sweater.
She never liked sleeping in thick clothes, but she had no intention of freezing to death this night in her thin, layered nightgown.
However, when she turned around, her heart almost jumped out of her throat at the sight of the silhouette of a man standing by the corner of her room.
Without wasting a moment, she grabbed the lampstand lying on the drawer, raising it defensively in front of her.
"Who are you!?" she demanded. "If you're here to steal, I must warn you, there's nothing of value here to take, and I'm not a defenseless girl."
Still no reply from the intruder.
Camelia frowned.
The low light from the candle made it almost impossible to make out the man's face, but focusing, her eyes widened when she saw who it was.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, a frown forming between her brows.
At her question, Ian finally stepped into the light. But he still didn't utter a word. He just stood there, staring blankly at her like he was also confused as to what he was doing in her bedroom.
Relaxing a little, Camelia put down the lampstand.
She crossed her arms, unknowingly pushing her bosom up.
"I didn't take you as the type to sneak into young girls' rooms," she commented with a raised brow.
"Are you some perverted intruder who enjoys watching young girls in their bedrooms?"
"I'm not a pervert," Ian replied defensively. "A-and your window was unlocked," he added, his gaze falling to the window in mortifying embarrassment at stuttering.
Camelia was shocked by his reaction to her words. Was this cold, rude, brooding man... flustered?