Vampire's Veil Of Obsession-Chapter 82: Sense Of Courtesy

Lilia took a quick bath and stepped out, wrapping herself in a robe that was much larger than her. The fabric hung loosely around her small frame, swallowing her in its oversized folds. It felt unusual—too big, too heavy. As she walked toward the mirror, she tugged at the sleeves, which nearly covered her hands. It was only when she finished blow-drying her hair that realization struck her.

This robe belonged to Zethan.

That explained why it nearly reached her ankles, why the scent of it was subtly masculine, laced with a fragrance that clung to her skin—faintly warm, faintly intoxicating. A shiver ran down her spine, but she quickly shook the thought away. It wasn’t important.

Right now, she had other things to worry about.

She had rushed through her bath because concern weighed heavily on her mind. Zethan was still in the room, and she felt responsible. He hadn’t said much after they came inside, but she knew—they had stayed out in the rain because of her. If she had known this place wasn’t properly set up for more than one person, she would have hurried even more.

Lilia inhaled deeply before stepping out of the bathroom.

Zethan, who had been sitting on the the bed, glanced at her briefly. His gaze was unreadable—dark and cool, like he had already processed a hundred thoughts before looking away. He gave a slight nod, the gesture barely noticeable, then stood and walked into the bathroom without a word.

She watched the door close behind him, unsure what to make of it. Was he acknowledging her? Or was he simply tired?

’That was impossible...Zethan being tired’

Brushing the thought aside, she turned toward the wardrobe.

The moment she opened it, her eyes widened slightly.

Everything inside was men’s clothing.

Not a single item of hers.

Her hands hovered over the neatly hung shirts, brushing against the smooth fabric. There were no spare clothes for her here—only button-downs, T-shirts, and stacks of well-folded pants. She bit her lip, hesitating. She couldn’t wait for Zethan to come out and ask him, so she had no choice but to pick something herself.

Her gaze landed on a neatly folded black T-shirt with the word COOL printed on it. It looked unworn, freshly washed, so she picked it up. After searching for a moment, she found one of his boxer shorts. That would have to do.

After dressing, she moved to the small vanity near the bed. Her fingers dipped into a container of lotion, smoothing it over her skin. She took a moment to appreciate how precisely everything had been arranged—no clutter, no misplaced items. The room, much like Zethan himself, had an air of quiet control.

Once done, she stepped toward the kitchen.

She wasn’t sure if Zethan planned to order food or what his plans were, but she wanted to do something productive. Cooking had always been her quiet escape.

Back when her parents would leave for long meetings with her sister, she used to sneak into the kitchen. She would watch the chefs prepare elaborate meals, their movements swift and confident. Sometimes, they even let her help—only in small ways, of course. She remembered how they used to smile at her, promising not to tell her mother.

She had been grateful for their kindness.

That was how she had learned to enjoy cooking—how she had found a sense of peace in it.

Opening the fridge, she scanned its contents, searching for something simple to prepare for dinner.

Since it was already late at night, she decided on a vegetable omelet. She reached for the necessary ingredients—eggs, bell peppers, onions, tomatoes, and spinach—laying them out on the counter with quiet efficiency. As she cracked the eggs, she thought about making some fruit juice as well.

To her surprise, the fruit—grapes and oranges—had already been washed, cut, and stored in the fridge. That made things easier. All she had to do was blend them.

She poured the juice into a container and placed it in the freezer, setting a timer to chill it.

With that done, she turned her focus back to the omelet.

She felt a sense of satisfaction as she chopped the vegetables. It was a small thing, but it made her happy. She liked doing things for herself.

Just as she was about to finish chopping the spinach, something unexpected happened.

A hand slipped under her shirt.

Her entire body jolted.

The knife slipped from her fingers—but before she could react, before the shock could fully register, before she could even breathe, Zethan caught it.

Swift. Effortless. Like he had done it a hundred times before.

She turned to him, wide-eyed.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stared at him, struggling to process what had just happened. Had he really just—?

To her utter disbelief, he chuckled.

The sound was deep, slow—amused.

As if he had expected her reaction. As if he had planned it.

He handed the knife back to her, his gaze steady.

"What are you making, my sweet wife?" he asked.

My sweet wife..

Lilia inhaled sharply, glaring.

"I’m cooking," she said, her voice clipped her heart skipping. "Please refrain from doing anything."

Zethan only chuckled again, blinking lazily before tilting his head.

"Then let’s both cook," he murmured. "While you cook, I cook."

He winked. But he didn’t move away.

Lilia ignored him or rather tired to.

She returned to her task, determined to focus—but just as she was about to resume chopping, she felt him move again.

His arms slid around her from behind.

His hands rested lightly on her waist.

She stiffened.

His breath was warm against her neck. She could feel it.

The knife in her hand went motionless.

Then, in a low, teasing voice, he murmured, "Continue, my wife. Don’t be distracted."

Lilia gritted her teeth. This man...

Of all things, this was what he had to say?

Did he not realize that she was cooking?

And then, to her frustration, he spoke again.

His body bent slightly as he rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice a slow whisper against her ear.

"Who knew my sweet little wife could cook?"

The scent of the meal filled the kitchen—warm, inviting—but Lilia barely registered it.

Her cheeks burned.

Her entire body felt hot.

Before she could gather herself, his hand slipped under her shirt.

His fingers brushed the bare skin of her stomach.

Her breath caught again.

Her eyes widened.

"Focus," he murmured, his palm moving in slow, deliberate circles.

The touch was light—too light.

Unbearably distracting.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else.

"Ze..." she breathed.

He leaned in closer.

His lips brushed against the shell of her ear.

"Shhh... focus. You’re doing great."

Lilia’s body shivered.

His breath fanned her neck.

His deep voice, his hands—his warmth.

She knew.

She knew she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

She silently prayed he wouldn’t move upward or maybe he should maybe....

’Lilia stop...’

Outside, the sound of rain echoed softly against the windowpanes, a rhythmic lull that should have been comforting. But inside, the tension between them was anything but soothing.

The rain had softened to a gentle drizzle, barely audible now.

Zethan’s voice came again—softer, yet infinitely more dangerous.

"So... where did you learn to cook?"

Lilia let out a quiet sigh, trying to steady herself. Her fingers curled slightly against the wooden cutting board as she focused on chopping the spinach, using the motion to ground herself.

She forced herself to ignore the warmth of his body—the way his hands still rested on her stomach, tracing slow, invisible patterns as if memorizing her. It was almost distracting enough to make her forget how close he was. Almost.

When she finally spoke, her voice was slightly uneven.

"I learned back at home... out of boredom, I guess."

Zethan gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "I see."

And then, just as slowly as he had embraced her—

He pulled away.

She exhaled, her body still tense. But just as she thought it was over—

His hands settled on her waist.

Before she could react, before she could even process the movement—

He lifted her.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt herself rising, weightless in his grip.

And then, to her surprise, she felt Zethan’s hands steady her as he raised her high enough to grab the tray with ease. Her eyes widened in shock.

Her heart pounded as she quickly secured the tray. "Th-Thank you," she whispered, breathless.

As he set her down gently, she pressed her lips together, trying to calm the wild beating of her heart.

Who knew cooking could be like this? Certainly not her.

Lilia turned back to the stove, pouring the beaten eggs into the pan. The sizzle filled the quiet kitchen as the seasoned mixture spread evenly. She added some of the prepped ingredients before stepping back to lean against the counter, waiting.

Zethan, who had been watching her closely, finally spoke. "So, how long is it going to take?"

Lilia thought for a moment. "Just a little while," she replied.

Zethan hummed, his voice slow and quiet—almost too casual. It made Lilia wary, as if he had something up his sleeve.

"So... you have nothing to do now, right?" he asked.

She glanced around. Everything was already arranged, the ingredients prepped and set aside. There was nothing left to do but wait for the eggs to cook.

Hesitantly, she nodded.

Before she could react, Zethan suddenly lifted her again, effortlessly placing her onto the kitchen counter.

Her breath hitched in surprise.

He smirked. "It’s my turn to cook."

And then, before she could process what was happening, his hands slipped under her shirt, cupping her breasts.

Lilia gasped, her entire body going rigid. "Z-Zethan—"

Before she could finish, his other hand tilted her chin up, his fingers resting lightly against her throat.

His lips claimed hers in a slow, deep kiss.

A whimper escaped her as heat curled low in her stomach, her senses overwhelmed by the way he kissed her—possessive, unyielding.

By the time he pulled away, her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely think.

Zethan’s gaze darkened as he took in her dazed expression, his thumb tracing her lower lip.

"Z-Zethan..." she stammered, her voice weak. "I don’t think we should be doing this here... where is your sense of courtesy?"

His fingers brushed against her lips, silencing her.

"Coutesy huh" In a slow whisper, he continued, "This underwear of mine you’re wearing is my favorite."

"My beloved wife," he murmured, his voice thick with promise.

"We’re going to do it in every corner of this house."