Sweet Revenge With My Billionaire Vampire

They weren’t just fake fiancés anymore. They were real now—an actual couple.

He sat up with a chuckle, rubbing a hand down his face. How had he even forgotten? After the moments they had shared in Vegas, he was still acting like he had to keep his distance.

"I’m an idiot," he murmured to himself.

Pushing himself up from the couch, he padded over to the bed. He pulled back the blankets and slid in behind Adeline, his body molding against hers. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close until her back was flush against his chest.

Adeline shifted in her sleep, her body instinctively adjusting to fit against his, but she didn’t wake.

He buried his face against her shoulder, inhaling the delicious scent of her skin and sighing in satisfaction.

—

Inside Damien’s office in the castle, he sat in his chair, shirtless, his body a bit tilted to the side. His head rested against his knuckles, supported by the armrest, his expression one of utter annoyance.

"This is ridiculous," he grumbled.

Beside him, Vincent stood with a towel in hand. He dipped the cloth into a large bowl of steaming water, squeezing out the excess before pressing it against Damien’s biceps—the spot where Nolan’s wing had cut him.

The heat seeped into his skin, soothing the lingering ache, but Damien’s frown only deepened.

Julian had healed the wound itself, sealing the skin without a scar, but the pain remained. And according to Julian, the only way to deal with it was daily massages with hot water until the pain fully dissipated.

Damien let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his forehead. "Can you be any slower, boy?" he asked, shifting slightly in his chair. "I can’t believe a king like me is sitting here getting a damn massage when I have actual work to do."

Vincent barely reacted to the complaint, simply adjusting his grip on the towel. He pressed the cloth a little more firmly into the muscle, moving in slow circles. "No matter what, your health comes first, my liege," he responded calmly. "If this isn’t done properly, the lingering pain will become a bigger issue later on."

He stepped forward, positioning himself between Damien’s spread legs to get a better angle, and continued applying the heated cloth to the spot. "Surely you don’t want a sharp pain shooting up your arm every time you try to do something?" he added.

Damien scoffed, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. "I can handle a little pain, Vincent. I don’t need this childish massage."

But even as he said it, his muscles were already loosening under Vincent’s touch. The warmth was seeping into him, easing the pain in his biceps and making it easier to move the arm. He shifted slightly, adjusting his posture as if trying to downplay the fact that he wasn’t actually as tense anymore.

"But," he continued, breathing out heavily, "since Julian insists, I’ll tolerate it."

Despite all his grumbling and complaints, he was actually enjoying the massage. But of course, he would never admit it.

When Vincent was done, he wiped his wet hands on the towel before stepping back, bowing his head. "I am done, my liege."

He turned, crouching to pick up the bowl of water and take his leave. However, just as he was about to do so, Damien’s hand suddenly shot out, grasping his wrist in a firm hold. Vincent gasped as he was pulled back up, his body stiffening.

"By the way," Damien said, spinning Vincent back around to face him, his dark eyes locking onto his brown ones. "Any updates on my son and the girl?"

"I haven’t heard anything about them in a while. You’ve been keeping an eye on them, haven’t you? Did you notice anything odd between them?"

Vincent gulped, remembering that he was still withholding the truth from Damien—that Adeline was not just some friend of Enzo, but his fiancée. He forced himself to keep a straight face, but internally, panic clawed at his insides.

He swallowed hard, then nodded. "Last I checked, they were on what seemed like a business trip."

A shiver ran through him when Damien raised his eyebrow skeptically. He couldn’t believe he was really lying to the king, but he had no choice but to.

If Damien were to find out the truth and went to the human world to kill Adeline, the odds of Enzo being able to stop him were slim.

Enzo would undoubtedly resent him for the rest of eternity if any harm came to Adeline.

"Business trip, huh? Are you sure?" Damien inquired, tilting his head quizzically.

A knock suddenly came at the door, interrupting them.

Still gripping Vincent’s wrist, Damien’s gaze flicked toward the door, a hint of curiosity crossing his face. It wasn’t one of the guards—none of them would dare knock without announcing themselves first. The only vampires bold enough to approach without warning were either the councilors or Vincent himself, who was already standing before him.

"Come in," he called.

The heavy door opened, and Argilia stepped in, her long, flowing gown trailing behind her as she glided across the room. As usual, she carried herself with the effortless grace of someone who knew they were being watched or expected to be watched. Her eyes drifted over Vincent before settling on Damien’s grip on his wrist.

Vincent felt the king’s grip loosen before he was lightly pushed forward. Taking the silent dismissal for what it was, Vincent gave a quick bow to Argilia before picking up the bowl of hot water and hurrying towards the exit.

Argilia’s gaze followed him until the door shut behind him, then she turned her attention fully to Damien.

Her eyes lingered on his bare chest before moving up to his face. "You, getting a massage," she teased, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Not something I ever thought I’d see."

Damien groaned as he pushed himself up from his chair, grabbing his shirt from where it hung on the backrest and slipping it on. As he buttoned it, he shot her an unimpressed look.

"What do you want, Argilia?"