Married To The Mad Vampire Lord

Belle's recovery was slow after she gave birth, and despite how much she hated her inability to do her own bidding, her husband seemed to enjoy doing all for her without any complaints whatsoever.

He enjoyed bathing her in the mornings, dressing her, combing her hair, and massaging her where she felt sore. Not just that, he did the cooking and the laundry every day. Belle was amazed to see that in the past days he was cooking, he had improved so much that she felt even her cooking pale in comparison to what he made.

One thing she noticed he liked doing more than every other chore in the house was helping her unfasten her dress to feed the baby. Even though she was well capable of doing that herself, Rohan seemed to enjoy doing it and watching her nurse Angel. She could not deny him the pleasure of it, even though it brought heat to her cheeks.

Their routine in the house was simple. He would go out for a few hours during the afternoons and return with blood in a container to feed Angel. It was only after that, he would allow her to nurse him because he said Angel would not be content with breast milk alone and might want to force out his fangs to bite her.

Though their son was toothless, Belle had witnessed firsthand, when Rohan had not brought his blood on time, where tiny fangs emerged from his mouth while he cried and threw a fit. Trying to avoid any situation where those tiny fangs would sink into her already sensitive breasts, they had made sure to feed him blood first every day.

Belle never asked Rohan how he fed or where he got the blood, but she was certain where they were had no restrictions on vampires feeding, if even there were people around where they were, as she had never seen the sign of any other humans.

Rohan made sure he took charge of taking care of Angel every afternoon so she could rest. He bathed him and changed him. She was even ashamed to realize he was more skilled than her in changing and bathing their son. And more than once, she found pleasure in watching him do it.

Along with the days that passed, Angel was growing at a speed that was so different from normal human babies. A few weeks after his birth, their son was already looking like a four-month-old human baby whose little laughter could melt the toughest heart into liquid. He was so adorable that not a day of boredom ever befell them in that little house.

At sunsets, Belle would hold Angel while they watched Rohan work outside, either milking the cows or splitting the logs for firewood. When Belle would feed the chickens while seated, as she was still not fully back to her full strength and hadn't healed completely, their baby, who already looked a few month's-old, would smile and giggle at the frenzy of chickens gathering around them.

He was growing chubbier and cuter, his cheeks round and eyes large, his nose small like a button, his brows deep blue just like his hair. It amazed her how much he was starting to resemble his father, though he had the shape of her nose when she was a baby, as she had seen in her baby portrait. His features were a promise of being like Rohan.

Whenever they sat outside to watch Rohan, her husband would make faces to make the boy laugh himself senseless and fling his hands, wanting to be carried by his father. Their bond was so unlike anything she had seen before. Angel couldn't go a day without wanting to be with Rohan, even at night. The baby would want to sleep between them rather than in his cradle.

Days went by like that, but as the days went on, Belle noticed how careful her husband was around her in bed at night. He would do no more than wrap his arm around her, even though she could feel his hard arousal against her all night and see the faint bulge in his trousers all day. He seemed to be putting himself under such great control that she couldn't help but feel guilty.

Along with the look of hidden desires in his dark eyes, she could tell there were other things weighing on his mind more than his desire to be with his wife.

But Belle decided that the look must be because their time in this secluded place was getting closer to being over, and they had to return to their reality. Though many times she expected him to tell her that their time here was over, he never did, and she never looked forward to seeing that day anytime soon.

As much as she would have loved to help him find release for his desires, Belle was not yet completely healed or confident enough to take her husband in the way she truly wanted to.

She hated how he restrained himself every night he lay beside her, and how, whenever she nursed Angel, his gaze seemed to burn.

The decision to help him find release came to her suddenly one evening, after he teased her.

She had just finished nursing Angel, with him watching. And as if he could no longer help himself or fight the urge, he had reached out and traced his fingers across her swollen breast, his touch leaving a heated trail behind, tingling her skin. He rubbed his thumb over her wet nipple, still damp from where their son had nursed and released as he fell asleep. Her nipple instantly hardened into a bud, and she shivered.

His thumb creased her until she bit back a moan, and then he smiled devilishly as if he had done it on purpose to put her on edge, like he had been for days. Then, he began to pull back from her, but Belle reached out and gripped his wrist.

"Take Angel to his cradle and come back," she breathed, her voice sounding airless, like she wasn't drawing enough into her lungs.

He didn't ask what she was planning. Instead, he bent and gently gathered their son, who was sleeping peacefully in his arms, and carried him to the cradle he had finished making just a few days ago. He laid him down carefully, pulled a soft cloth over him, then straightened and turned to his wife, who was now seated and patting the space beside her, beckoning him forward.

The sun was just dipping behind the horizon, and its soft orange hue poured through the window, the light spilling across her where she sat. Her face had regained some of its color, no longer as pale as it had been the day after Angel was born, and her golden hair flowed down her shoulders in curly waves. She wore a yellow dress, the bodice still unfastened from having nursed their son, who, lately, did nothing but sleep through most of the days.

Although it had been almost a month since giving birth, she hadn't yet regained her full strength. Still, she had begun to shed the soft roundness of pregnancy, and was slowly returning to her former slender shape.

Her breasts, heavy with milk and rounder than before, pressed visibly against the loosened bodice of her dress, the fabric outlining their fullness.

Heat surged and settled low in his groin. Rohan swallowed hard as she motioned again for him to come closer. He strode toward her, barefoot, his eyes fixed on her—desire burning through him and rushing straight to that part of him he had ignored for so long, it physically ached at times. His bulge had become a constant presence, one he couldn't tame or satisfy. And now, more than ever, he longed for his wife.

But after having witnessed her go through that labor, Rohan would never ask her to do anything that might hurt her already raw flesh. He would rather die without ever finding release than put her through any form of discomfort.