Chapter 4

Meanwhile, on other side…

The sleek, two door luxury car glided smoothly through the open wrought iron gates of the expansive estate, its polished black exterior glistening under the afternoon sun. The car's powerful engine purred softly as it maneuvered gracefully along the cobblestone driveway, flanked by impeccably manicured gardens that showcased an array of colorful blooms.

The luxury house, a magnificent structure dominating the landscape, was a striking sight to behold. Its exterior was predominantly adorned in various shades of black, giving it an air of elegance and mystery. Tall, arched windows with ornate ironwork grilles punctuated the facade, and the slate roof added a touch of grandeur to the overall design.

As the car parked in the circular driveway in front of the house, a well dressed man stepped out. He exuded an aura of sophistication and refinement, and he walked with purpose towards the entrance, his footsteps echoing faintly on the marble path.

Inside the house, there was an air of quiet opulence. The grand foyer featured a black and white checkered marble floor, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting prismatic reflections throughout the space. A sweeping staircase with a wrought iron railing led to the upper levels, adding to the sense of grandeur.

In the midst of this luxurious setting, there was only one servant present, an elderly woman named Layla. She had faithfully served the household for two decades, her loyalty and dedication unwavering.

As the man entered, Layla, her silver hair neatly tied back, approached him with a warm smile. "Welcome home, Mr. Nightshade," she greeted him, her voice carrying the weight of years of service and familiarity.

Mr. Nightshade, also known as Damien Nightshade, acknowledged Layla's greeting with a nod and continued into the dining area. He took a seat at the elegant mahogany dining table, its surface gleaming with a soft polish.

As Layla poured a glass of water, she couldn't help but inquire, "Was the hotel food not to your liking, Mr. Nightshade?"

Damien took a sip of the refreshing water before replying, "It was decent, Layla, but it could never compare to your culinary skills. You and your ancestors have been serving me for over two centuries, and your cooking has always been unparalleled."

Layla's eyes twinkled with a mixture of pride and gratitude at the compliment. She had indeed honed her culinary talents over the years, mastering a vast array of dishes that had delighted Damien and his ancestors for generations. The bond between the Nightshade family and Layla's had endured for centuries, transcending the boundaries of employer and servant.

Damien continued, "There's a reason I prefer to dine here, Layla. Your cooking brings a taste of tradition and history to this house that I cherish."

Layla's smile widened, her wrinkles deepening with the expression. "It's an honor to serve you, as it has been for generations, Mr. Nightshade.”

Damien savored the exquisite flavors of the meal Layla had prepared, she spoke with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "Mr. Nightshade, I have been serving your family for a long time. My bones have grown weary, and perhaps it's time for me to consider retirement."

Damien paused mid bite, his piercing eyes fixing on Layla as he absorbed her words. "Retirement, Layla?"

He swallowed his food and placed his utensils gently on the porcelain plate. "Your service has been exceptional, and your presence here is invaluable. But I understand the toll it can take."

Layla chose her words carefully as she cleared the table, her voice a gentle murmur amidst the luxurious surroundings. "Mr. Nightshade, I would like my daughter, Ruby, to continue the tradition of serving your family."

The mention of Layla's daughter brought back memories of a young Ruby, who had grown up in the mansion and had always shown a keen interest in the family's history and traditions.

Damien considered this for a moment. The prospect of Layla retiring was a significant change, and yet he trusted her judgment. "Very well, Layla. Please have Ruby meet with me tomorrow. I would like to discuss this transition further."

Layla's smile conveyed both relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. Nightshade. I believe Ruby will do an excellent job, and I will still be here to assist and guide her during the transition."

Damien continued to savor his meal, a sudden coughing fit overtook him, causing him to choke on a morsel of food. Layla, always attentive to her master's needs, swiftly poured mineral water into a crystal glass by his side. She handed the glass to Damien, concern etched on her features.

Damien took the glass gratefully and sipped the water, his airways finally clearing. However, as Layla leaned in to ensure he was alright, her sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a red mark on Damien's neck. It was a peculiar, slightly bruised spot, hidden beneath his crisp collar.

Layla couldn't help but inquire, her voice soft but curious, "Mr. Nightshade, may I ask about the mark on your neck? It looks quite unusual."

In an instant, Damien's hand shot up to his collar, hastily adjusting it to conceal the mark. His expression hardened, and he averted his gaze, momentarily at a loss for words. The atmosphere grew tense as Layla patiently waited for an answer.

After a brief pause, Layla couldn't help but smile gently. "I see," she said, her tone understanding. "It must be the lycan woman you helped the other night, isn't it?"

Damien, his eyes flickering with a mixture of surprise and wariness, hesitated for a moment. Then, he simply shook his head and replied, "No, Layla, it's not related to her."

Damien carefully set down his cutlery and decided to confide in Layla. "Last night, Craig hired a woman for me, Layla, and I acquiesced."

Layla's eyes widened in surprise, knowing well that Damien had always maintained his purity. She couldn't help but ask, "But, Mr. Nightshade, how did it happen?"

Damien sighed and leaned back in his chair. "She was a virgin too," he admitted, though with a hint of reluctance in his voice.

Layla listened attentively, waiting for him to continue. Damien took a deep breath and continued, "It was a one time occurrence, Layla. I don't intend to repeat it. Besides, I ended up paying more than we agreed upon, $500 instead of the initial $200."

Finishing his meal, Damien swiftly rose from his seat. "I need to take a shower," he declared, excusing himself from the dining area.

Layla nodded, understanding the need for privacy. "Of course, Mr. Nightshade. I'll prepare everything for your shower."

With a nod of appreciation, Damien left the dining area and headed upstairs to his room, leaving Layla to tend to the household tasks.

**

Damien stood under the soothing stream of warm water, the events of the previous night played like a vivid movie in his mind. He was lost in a swirl of thoughts and emotions, trying to make sense of it all.

The memory of that passionate encounter was still fresh, etched into his memory. His fingers instinctively traced the faint red mark on his neck, a subtle but undeniable testament to the intensity of the night.

The water seemed to heighten his senses, and he couldn't help but think about the woman who had shared that intimate moment with him. Her scent, her touch, it all felt so strangely familiar. It was as if he had encountered it before, perhaps in another context.

The more Damien pondered, the more he was troubled by the notion that the woman's fragrance bore a striking resemblance to that of a werewolf. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought, but it lingered like an unsettling whisper in the back of his mind.

As the warm water continued to envelop him, Damien's musings deepened. He questioned how such a scenario had even unfolded. Why had he succumbed to the allure of the night? And why did the woman's scent resonate with his memory of the supernatural beings he had encountered in the past?

"Was the woman a werewolf?" he murmured as he touched his neck, where the red kiss mark was located.