Chapter 227: Victor Arrives Early

Rakshasa’s bedroom had stopped looking like a bedroom at least two hours ago.

Dresses were scattered across the bed, over two armchairs, hanging from folding screens, piled on a table, and even carelessly folded on the floor after being discarded. Red, black, wine, gold, purple, silk, lace, discreet sheer fabrics, more aggressive necklines, and cuts designed to emphasize every possible part of her body.

Rakshasa had asked for enough options to dress an entire court, yet she continued finding some problem with practically every single one.

At that moment, she stood before a large mirror wearing a black dress with wine-colored details that could probably make half the men at the gala forget why they had gone there.

The fabric hugged her waist, left her shoulders exposed, and followed the curves of her body down to a side slit that revealed a large portion of her leg whenever she walked.

The neckline did absolutely nothing to help anyone intending to keep their eyes on her face.

Rakshasa slowly turned in front of the mirror.

Then examined her reflection from the side.

Some of the satisfaction disappeared from her face.

"No."

Behind her, Lyssa and Elara were sitting on one of the piles of discarded dresses.

The two servants had given up trying to understand their lady’s standards a while ago. They simply waited while Rakshasa tried on a dress, looked unbelievably beautiful, found some flaw no one else could see, and started all over again.

Rakshasa tugged slightly at the fabric near her hip and sighed.

"I don’t want other men staring at me."

Elara looked at Lyssa.

Lyssa looked back.

Then both of them looked at the dress.

It was far too late for that goal.

Rakshasa continued examining her reflection, apparently unaware of the contradiction between wanting to look extremely attractive for Victor and not wanting anyone else to notice exactly the same thing.

Elara moved a little closer to Lyssa and spoke while barely moving her lips.

"I miss him."

Lyssa immediately made a small gesture telling her to lower her voice even more.

"Me too."

"We can’t even say anything."

"Do you want to die?"

Elara quickly looked toward Rakshasa.

Their lady was still distracted by the mirror.

"No."

"Then stay quiet."

They both knew perfectly well why such caution was necessary.

The first time Victor had come to that castle, both of them had ended up involved with him in a way neither had ever truly forgotten. Rakshasa knew what had happened, but that did not mean it was a good idea to reminisce about it while she was choosing a dress to go out with Victor of all people.

Elara, however, did not have much discipline when she was curious.

"She’s really excited."

Lyssa nodded.

"Ever since she got that paper, she hasn’t talked about anything else."

Elara watched Rakshasa try another angle in front of the mirror.

"I keep wondering what Victor is going to do to her when they get back."

Lyssa let out a short breath.

"Don’t start."

"You don’t think about it?"

"Of course I do."

Elara smiled.

Lyssa hesitated for a few seconds before leaning even closer.

"I haven’t been able to seriously think about sleeping with anyone else since that night."

Elara’s eyes widened slightly.

Lyssa continued quietly, completely distracted by the memory.

"Victor was incredible. After that, every man who tried talking to me just seemed boring."

"Shhh!"

Elara put a finger in front of her lips.

Lyssa froze.

Both of them looked at Rakshasa at the same time.

She had stopped adjusting the dress.

The silence lasted several seconds.

Elara and Lyssa practically stopped breathing, convinced they had just signed their own death warrants.

Rakshasa tilted her head slightly, examined the neckline, and ran her fingers along her waist.

Then she spoke:

"This dress won’t work."

Both of them exhaled at the same time.

Lyssa put a hand over her chest.

"She’s in a trance."

"Completely."

Rakshasa started removing a few pieces of jewelry that matched the dress while muttering to herself about needing something beautiful, provocative, elegant, and exclusive enough that no one could possibly confuse her presence with that of any other woman in the hall.

That was when Lyssa felt a hand squeeze her ass.

Her eyes widened.

At the exact same moment, Elara felt it too.

Both of them went completely rigid.

"...!"

They turned together.

Victor was standing behind them.

Neither had noticed his arrival.

Not his footsteps.

Not his presence.

Not even the door opening.

After six months of training with Yu Jin Cheon, Victor apparently could enter a room full of ancient vampires without being noticed when he truly wanted to.

He had one hand on each of them and a small smile on his face.

"Shh."

Victor lifted one finger to his lips and spoke so quietly only the two of them could hear.

"Let’s just watch."

Elara turned red immediately.

Lyssa took one second longer to react.

Then she looked at his hand still resting on her ass.

Then at Victor.

Then back at Rakshasa, who remained completely focused on the mirror.

Lyssa whispered:

"You’re going to get us killed."

Victor answered at the same volume.

"Why?"

"Because she’s going to notice."

"She hasn’t noticed yet."

Elara looked at him as though that were even more concerning.

"How did you get in here without her sensing you?"

Victor smiled.

"Training."

Lyssa studied his face and noticed something else.

"You’re hiding your scent too."

"I learned a few things."

Elara tried to remove his hand from her ass, but Victor let go before she needed to insist.

"You shouldn’t do that."

"You seemed to like it last time."

Her face grew even redder.

"Don’t talk about that now."

Lyssa immediately agreed.

"Especially not here."

Victor looked toward Rakshasa.

Victor kept his hands where they were, his fingers pressing lightly through the clothes of the two vampires.

Elara and Lyssa remained completely still, trapped between shock, fear that Rakshasa might notice, and a trace of excitement neither of them could deny.

They looked at each other with wide eyes before turning back toward Victor.

He was not joking.

With deliberate, silent movements, his hands slid down and found the edges of their skirts.

The sound of fabric shifting was almost inaudible.

Elara gave a tiny jolt when his fingers found the warm dampness of her panties.

Lyssa closed her eyes for a second, holding her breath.

Victor did not speak again.

His gaze remained fixed on Rakshasa, who was now holding a ruby necklace against her neck and frowning at herself in the mirror.

While she remained distracted by her own reflection, his fingers worked.

First on Elara, whose body trembled when he slipped around the barrier of her underwear and found her warm, wet entrance.

One finger slid inside, gentle but firm.

Elara trapped her lower lip between her teeth, forcing herself not to make a sound.

Her eyes filled with tears from tension and suppressed pleasure.

Victor explored inside her, curling his finger slightly as he massaged the soft walls.

He could feel how tight she was, how she pulsed around him.

Then his attention shifted to Lyssa.

With his left hand, he repeated the movement, finding her just as wet, her arousal hidden beneath layers of fabric.

When his finger penetrated her, Lyssa tilted her head back, an almost imperceptible sigh escaping her.

She was more tense than Elara, but just as receptive.

Victor moved his finger inside her in a slow, deep rhythm, feeling her contract around him.

Both women were now completely at the mercy of his touch, unable to move, protest, or do anything but endure the silent invasion and the wave of sensations it triggered.

The room remained quiet except for the faint rustling of dresses and Rakshasa’s murmurs.

"Maybe blue... no, too obvious," she muttered, mentally discarding another color.

Meanwhile, Victor increased the pace.

Two fingers were now inside Elara, who grabbed the nearest dress for support.

Her hips trembled, involuntarily trying to follow his movements.

With Lyssa, he used his thumb to press against her clitoris through the fabric of her panties while his fingers continued working inside her.

Her eyes closed, her face a mask of extreme concentration as she tried to remain silent.

The contradiction was intoxicating.

Rakshasa, powerful and deadly, completely absorbed in her innocent vanity, while her servants, just as ancient and dangerous in their own right, were being penetrated and stimulated in secret only inches away by a man who completely dominated them without her knowing.

Victor felt both of their bodies beginning to tense, the subtle signs of approaching orgasm—their restrained, uneven breathing, the internal muscles contracting more tightly around his fingers, the increasing wetness.

He smiled, predatory and silent.

He wanted to see them reach the edge, desperate to scream but unable to make a sound.

That was when Rakshasa stopped.

She lowered the necklace and looked at her reflection with a different expression.

No longer critical.

Suspicious.

Her nose moved subtly, as though testing the air.

All three people behind her froze.

Victor stopped moving, but did not remove his hands.

Elara and Lyssa became petrified, their imminent pleasure instantly transformed into pure terror.

Rakshasa slowly turned around.

Her red eyes passed over her servants, whose faces were flushed and whose breathing was visibly faster.

Then they passed over Victor, now standing behind them, his hands hidden beneath the folds of their skirts.

A charged silence settled over the room.

Then the corners of Rakshasa’s mouth curved upward.

It was not a smile of fury.

It was something far more dangerous.

The smile of someone who had finally realized the game being played right beneath her nose.

"Victor," she said, her voice soft as sharpened silk. "You’re early."