CHAPTER 7
Carmilla
I got up to fully observe my allegedly new room. It was dimly lit, soft golden light oozing from the lamp at the bedside. It was nearly the size of the previous room but a bit bigger. A woven rug covered most of the floor space and the bed looked like it hadn't been used in years.
Clean, private and safer.
I sat back on the bed with my back straight, my hands gripping the edge like the floor would fall beneath me.
I wonder why he moved me here. Was it more of a punishment or to gain control ?
More or less, I still remembered the way he kept looking at me after the day I helped Martins.
Was he angry?
Or…. jealous?
That last thought was so ridiculous. He barely looked at me these days. I was just a name on paper. A Luna in title only.
I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. The room had been quite silent for long, I could even hear echoes from my eardrum.
My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten since lunch.
As if on nothing happened, there was a gentle knock on the door.
I froze. "Yes?"
The door creaked open. A maid in a blue apron came in with a covered tray in her hand.
I was in disbelief. "He did?"
She nodded, smiling like she knew something I didn't. "He said you haven't eaten in a while."
My lips parted apart but no word came out. Why did he care if I had eaten or not?
She set the tray on a small table near the window and left without saying another word.
Curiosity tugged at me. I lifted the lid. Stirred fried pasta with 2 beefs and a glass of water. Simple, yet thoughtful.
My stomach didn't need much convincing. I sank into the chair, took a fork and dug in.
Still warm. Still good.
I was half way into the meal when I heard another knock, this time firmer. I wiped my mouth and stood up.
"Come in."
The door opened slowly, and there he was.
Evans.
Leaning against the frame, one hand on the doorknob.I could perceive his cologne from a distance. His hair was damp and his shirt clung tightly to his chest– probably returned from patrol.
His eyes scanned around the room before settling on me.
"Are you okay with the amount of food?"
I nodded "Yes, thank you."
He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. His eyes flickered across the half empty tray, then back to me.
" It seems I came at the wrong time."
"It's fine, I can round up when you leave." I said, sitting back on the chair.
"Good."
I waited for him to say more. Something. Anything
Rather he walked towards the window, staring at the dark sky.
"You should have notified one of the guards for help that day."He said, still staring at the window.
"I still don't understand why you are so fixated on me helping Martins . Is there something Martins knows that I don't? or is he that dangerous that I can't offer help to him?"
That made him turn.
But I didn't flinch. "I've been watching everything since I came here. You mostly ignore me, dismiss me and then you bring some food and act like I've crossed some invisible line."
He took a step forward, sealing the space between us. "You don't understand how things work here, Carmilla."
"Then make me understand, because all I can see is a man who can't decide if I disgust him or interest him."
Silence.
His hands clenched at the sides, then relaxed.
"You've been at the tips of their tongue lately. His voice lowered.
"Well I do not care. They already think I'm weak. Might as well give them something else to whisper about."
Evans studied me for a while like I was something new. "You aren't weak."
Those words were so quiet that I nearly missed them.
"What?"
He stepped in closer, and I forgot how to breathe.
"You are not weak." He repeated. "But this place… eats people like you."
"Unfortunately for them, I'm not that easy to chew."
Something flickered across his eyes. Amusement? Regret? I couldn't tell.
He reached out, fingers grazing my wrist.
I froze.
His touch was light. Careful. Nothing like the Alpha who gave orders.
Then he stepped back instantly.
He looked at me and for a moment, it felt as if he wanted to say more. Instead he nodded and left.
The door shut behind him and I sank back into the chair, my heart pounded as if I had run a mile.
I touched my wrist where his fingers had brushed.
His words echoed in my head again.
But that touch?
It lingered.