Married To Darkness-Chapter 356: Searching For Jeanie

Meanwhile, Lucius moved like a shadow, a blur against the darkened streets of Wyfn-Garde, his vampire speed allowing him to cover ground swiftly — too swiftly, it seemed, because despite his efforts, Jean was nowhere.

The rain had long since begun to fall, a soft drizzle at first, now a steady downpour. It blurred the edges of the world, darkening the sky and drenching the stone roads. His black umbrella lay discarded somewhere behind him, forgotten the moment he caught the faintest trace of her scent — lavender and honey — clinging to the cold night air.

And then, he saw it.

A lone carriage.

Lucius rushed to it, the rain slipping down his face in sharp rivulets. His heart — or whatever hollow thing lay in its place — thudded hard against his ribs as he yanked open the door, only to find nothing. The interior was empty.

No Jean.

But her bags... her small, familiar bags were still there, tucked neatly in the corner of the cart. He didn’t need to see the initials or the delicate stitching to know they were hers. The scent was enough — it hit him like a punch to the gut, a cruel confirmation that she had been here. Recently.

His panic sharpened.

"Pumpkin!" His voice cut through the rain, rough and desperate. "Where are you?"

Nothing but the patter of rain against the carriage and the distant rustle of wind through the trees.

"Jeanie!"

Lucius didn’t wait — couldn’t wait. He slammed the carriage door shut and spun away from it, the rain soaking through his shirt and coat as if trying to drag him down with every step. His boots squelched against the muddy roadside, his hair clinging to his forehead.

He didn’t care.

All he could think about was why.

Why did she leave?

Hadn’t she heard Salviana was safe now? That she’d been rescued?

Or... had he driven her away? Had his silence been too loud? Had his anger — his lack of assurance — made her feel like there was no place for her anymore?

He hadn’t told her it wasn’t her fault. He hadn’t told her anything.

Lucius’s throat tightened as the guilt gnawed at him.

He stumbled further into the night, his sharp eyes darting between the deserted road and the darkened woods that lined it. This wasn’t a safe part of Wyfn-Garde — not now.

The city was on edge. The recent unrest, the rumors of traitors, the whispers of dark creatures lurking in the more shadowed corners of the realm — all of it weighed on his mind.

What if something happened to her?

What if, in his failure to reassure her, he had pushed her straight into danger?

Lucius’s jaw clenched so hard it ached, his fangs brushing against his lower lip. The thought was unbearable. Jean wasn’t just a lady-in-waiting, not to him. She was his Jean. His Pumpkin. The woman who made him smile when he didn’t want to, who teased him mercilessly yet somehow made him feel at ease.

She was the only one who could disarm him without even trying.

And now, she was gone.

"Jeanie!"

The rain swallowed his voice, but he didn’t stop calling her name.

His panic spiraled with every passing second, his thoughts a tangled mess:

What if she was lost?

What if she was hurt?

What if someone found her first?

The woods loomed ahead, dark and silent, and Lucius didn’t hesitate — he stepped off the road and into the treeline.

Branches scratched at his coat, and the smell of wet earth and rain overpowered the air, but he still searched for that one familiar trace — the lingering scent of lavender and honey.

He would find her. freewёbnoνel.com

He had to.

Because the thought of losing Jean — of never seeing her again — wasn’t something Lucius could bear.

Suddenly Lucius heard something.

A feminine scream for help.

Blood and Rain

The scream tore through the night — sharp, desperate — and Lucius’s heart lurched.

His soaked black hair clung to his forehead, the rain streaming down his face, blurring his vision, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to see — he needed to get to her.

And then he saw her.

Jean.

She was struggling, her cloak half-torn, as two men dragged her deeper into the woods. Her feet scraped against the wet ground, her cries swallowed by the storm.

Something inside Lucius snapped.

He didn’t think — his instincts surged forward, primal, deadly. In the blink of an eye, he moved, faster than human sight could track. One second, the men were tugging Jean along, and the next—

Slice.

Lucius’s claws slashed across the throat of the first man. Blood sprayed into the rain, a dark, crimson arc against the gray world. The man gurgled, a sickening sound, and collapsed, lifeless, to the ground.

For a single moment, it felt like the rain paused. The air went deathly still.

Jean’s horrified gasp broke the silence.

The other man froze, his face a mask of fear, before he bolted, stumbling through the muddy path, desperate to escape.

Lucius didn’t even blink. His eyes — darkened, feral — flicked back to Jean for the briefest moment, taking in her tear-streaked cheeks and trembling form. She was alive. But afraid — not just of the men.

Of him.

He turned and vanished into the rain, a blur of fury and fangs.

The second man didn’t make it far.

Lucius overtook him in seconds, grabbing him by the back of his neck and slamming him into a tree. The crack of bone echoed through the forest. Before the man could beg — before he could speak — Lucius’s claws tore across his chest, swift and merciless.

Another life extinguished.

Another body crumpled to the ground.

Lucius stood over the corpse for a moment, his chest heaving, the rain washing away the blood from his fingers. His heart was still racing — not from the kill — but from the fear. The fear of what could have happened if he had been a second too late.

He didn’t wipe the blood from his mouth. He didn’t bother to tame the feral look in his eyes.

He only turned back.

Jean was still there, standing in the rain, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. Her wide eyes met his — taking in his disheveled hair, his bloodstained hands, the unrelenting fury in his expression.

He wasn’t the calm, composed Lucius she knew. He was something else entirely — something dangerous, snapped, and raw.

"Lucius..." she whispered, her voice small, afraid.

Her heart pounded so loud he could hear it — not just from fear of what had almost happened...

But fear of him.

His jaw tightened.

He took a single step toward her — a slow, measured step — but Jean flinched.

And that broke him more than any battle ever could.

Lucius stood there, frozen in the rain, his bloodied hands hanging at his sides. The downpour dripped from his hair, sliding over the sharp angles of his jaw, and streaking down his neck — mixing with the dark stains of blood on his shirt. His aura was a storm of its own — dark, dangerous, crackling with barely restrained fury.

And yet...

Jean.

She was trembling, her chest heaving with ragged sobs, her face a blur of rain and tears. For a long, terrible moment, they only stared at each other — a single arm’s length apart — him like a shadow of death, her like a frightened candle flickering in the wind.

Then, like something inside her broke, she let out a choked sob and started forward.

With claculated steps and a heart that knew home, she approached lucius who stood like a wounded beast. She reached him, held his gaze and smiled while crying then leaned in with a slight jump.

Straight into his arms.

Lucius’s entire body stiffened at first — shocked by the sudden weight of her — but the moment her face pressed into his chest, the moment her fingers fisted into his soaked shirt, something deep within him shattered.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, tighter. His large hand slid to the back of her head, cradling it gently even though his knuckles were still stained with blood.

"Jean..." he whispered hoarsely — her name like an apology, a plea, a curse all at once.

Her sobs only grew louder, muffled against his chest. She clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her upright, her small frame shaking with every ragged breath.

Lucius closed his eyes, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head, his heart pounding harder than it had when he killed those men.

He could still smell the fear on her — the terror of what had happened... and the lingering fear of him.

But she was here. In his arms.

And gods help him — he never wanted to let her go.

The rain kept falling, cold and relentless, but Lucius didn’t move.

Jean’s sobs slowly quieted, though her grip on his shirt didn’t loosen. She was still trembling, her cheek pressed against his chest, and he could feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat — wild and erratic like a bird trapped in a cage.

Lucius’s jaw tightened.

He wanted to speak — to ask her why she left, to tell her how reckless she’d been — but the words dissolved on his tongue. What right did he have? Hadn’t he driven her to this? His silence. His carelessness. His failure to make her feel safe.

"Why did you run?" he finally rasped, his voice a low growl against the sound of the rain.

Jean flinched slightly, but she didn’t pull away.