Married To The Mad Vampire Lord

Belle did not wake until late afternoon, and even then, it was Angel's loud, deafening cries that startled her from a dreamless sleep.

She opened her eyes to a room washed in warm sunlight, the golden beams streaming through the window and casting a pinkish hue over everything thanks to the sheer pink curtains swaying gently with the spring breeze. Not hearing the cry again, Belle wondered if she had imagined it and remained still, lying quietly in bed.

She didn't attempt to rise, just turned her head to the other side of the bed. She was alone, Rohan's side was empty. But the creased sheets and the sunken pillow were signs of his recent presence. The memory of what they had done the night before came rushing back, warm and vivid.

Though she was no longer shy about intimacy, her cheeks still flushed at the thought of it. Her body, with its soft aches and tender reminders, confirmed how wild they had been. It had been wonderful, being in his arms, feeling him in that way. The very memory of it caused a gentle heat to rise from deep within her.

From the empty cradle, she figured Rohan had taken Angel. Sometimes, he would wake up early and make breakfast with their baby nearby, watching him from the rug where he usually played and crawled.

She was about to convince herself that she had only imagined her son's earlier cries and was considering drifting back to sleep when his loud, piercing wail echoed through the small house again, this time so forceful it shook the walls, sending a soft cloud of dust down from the ceiling.

It wasn't a normal cry.

It was as though he was in pain, or something awful had happened to him.

Belle instantly sat up, the sheet slipping and wrapping itself around her bare body. She didn't care about the aches or the lingering soreness. All she could think about was her son, his voice, that wail. Something was wrong.

She ran, barefoot and breathless, down the narrow stairs and into the living area, stopping abruptly when her eyes took in the scene before her.

Rohan and Angel were both seated on the kitchen floor, surrounded by a scattered mess of toys.

Instantly, Belle understood what had happened.

Rohan was trying to pack the makeshift toys he had crafted for their son into a brown, open box. But Angel kept pulling them out again and returning them to the floor, his familiar play space. Each time Rohan placed a toy back into the box after Angel had retrieved it, the baby would tilt his head back and cry to the heavens, fat tears streaming down his little cheeks.

Belle couldn't move. She stood frozen as the realization settled in, Rohan was packing. Preparing for their leaving. The sight hit her like a blow to the chest.

And their son, sensing something wasn't right, was protesting the only way he could, stopping his father from packing his toys.

She had completely forgotten about their leaving for a moment. She had woken up like every other morning, admiring her surroundings, forgetting that today was the day it would all end. A lump, so large, stuck in her throat, depriving her of the will to swallow.

Meanwhile, Rohan, who had now repeated the same actions of packing the toys countless times, finally gave up and moved from the floor to a crouched position, staring at his crying son in resignation and utter helplessness.

The boy's cries were tenfold louder than that of a normal baby, so much that Rohan had stuffed cotton into his ears to block out the sound.

"How many times are we going to go through this, son?" Rohan said, massaging his aching temple. He had tried, as best as possible, to explain to the boy that the toys needed to be in the box because they were going on a journey.

Angel stopped crying just enough to look up at Rohan and shook his head. As young as he was, he seemed to understand that his father wanted to take him, and his toys, away from here, and he didn't want to comply. To him, this was home, and everything should stay the way it was, not be packed and taken away like his father was doing.

Seeing that Rohan had resumed packing the toys again, Angel threw his head back and cried until Rohan could literally see his throat and tongue quivering. His round cheeks were flushed, and fat tears streamed down his long lashes.

Stunned speechless and rendered helpless by his son's dramatic cries, Rohan massaged his temple for the tenth time and looked at the small being that was his blood, but by hell, he had never been like this as a child. Did he ever even cry?

"Max, you can't always get your way by crying. You're smarter than that. If you don't let me pack the toys, we might as well leave them behind and get you new ones once we get home. Is that what you want? To part with your toys?" Rohan asked his son in a calm voice.

The boy's cries subsided. He looked at his father with accusing, tear-filled dark eyes and pouted lips.

In answer to Rohan's question, Angel crawled forward and hugged a few of the toys to his chest, then firmly shook his head, indicating he did not want them taken, nor did he want to leave this house.

Rohan stared at the boy for a moment, then sighed before moving toward him and gathering him into his arms. He understood now that, just like him, his son also believed that the place where one was born and first lived was where one ought to stay forever.

Rohan himself had once believed that the attic, where he had been locked away as a baby, was his home, that it was where he belonged. Even when he was eventually taken out, he had wanted to go back there. He had hated being around people and preferred isolation, only he had wanted it with the family that never wanted him then.

Rohan hadn't been able to sleep and had let his wife rest, passing the time by packing only the few things he deemed important, and those were the baby attires Belle had lovingly made, and the wooden toys he had carved for Angel. When he had been packing the attires, Angel had watched him keenly. Rohan had gently explained to him that they would be going back home, but the boy had only frowned, as though confused by the meaning of the word.

Now, while Rohan packed the toys, the boy seemed to finally understand, and began to protest.

Rohan hugged the boy to his chest, gently patting his back as he began to cry again, only this time, it was softer.

Sensing his wife's presence behind him, Rohan turned and found her leaning against the wall, her eyes shimmering with tears and her lips quivering. In that moment, he knew exactly who their son had taken after when it came to wearing emotions openly. So that's where he gets it, Rohan thought with a mental shake of his head.

He could tell she felt just as reluctant as their son about leaving, the same silent heartbreak clinging to her. Wordlessly, he opened one arm and beckoned for her to come to him.

She walked forward slowly, dragging the long sheet she had wrapped around her chest. When she stepped into his arm, Rohan held Angel with one arm and wrapped the other tightly around her, embracing them both.

"Did you sleep well, honey?" he whispered into her ear, his voice low and tender.

She gave a small nod and buried her face into his chest, her silence saying more than words could.

"I'm glad," he murmured, smiling softly against her hair. "I've already bathed Angel and changed him. We'll be departing in a few hours. Get freshened up and come downstairs to eat before the food gets cold."

He pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering for a moment as if to soothe her with the gesture. She nodded again, and just as quietly as she had come into his arms, she turned and walked away without a word, leaving him standing there, holding the boy who now clung to his shoulder in silence.

However, the next hour was filled with utter chaos, as Angel refused to stop crying once he realized they truly meant to leave, and that nothing had changed.

Belle had taken her bath and dressed, but all the while, the boy cried so loudly that the walls of the small cottage seemed to tremble, as if they might collapse around them. Her breasts felt heavy and tender with milk, but no matter how much she tried to calm him by feeding him, he refused to take it. He even rejected the blood Rohan tried to give him.

Belle began to worry something else might be wrong, because Angel never once played around during mealtime.

"What's wrong with him, Rohan?" she asked as he paced restlessly beside them in the kitchen. "He's never cried like this before."

Rohan strode over and bent to take the baby from her arms, but Angel clung tightly to the front of her dress, refusing to let go. His small hands gripped with such desperation that he nearly tore the front of Belle's dress. The strength with which he held onto her pulled her forward as Rohan struggled to take him without hurting him. The little being was that strong.

Rohan knew why his son was avoiding him, and still, it wouldn't stop him from carrying him.

When Angel was finally pulled from Belle's arms, he threw an even bigger fit. His cries escalated until faint dark veins began to show beneath his delicate skin, and his tiny nails darkened as they lengthened into sharp little claws. His emotions were beginning to force his other form to the surface.

"Damnit! You're going to hurt yourself with that cry, boy!" Rohan growled through gritted teeth, clearly outraged by the helplessness and impatience building inside him from the tantrum. He wasn't used to seeing this side of the baby.

Turning to his anxious wife, who had already risen to her feet and was reaching for the boy, who was straining toward her as if his father was the last person he wanted to be with, Rohan quickly stopped her.

"No, let him cry. Go eat your food. It seems Max and I need to have a private talk… and maybe a bit more explaining, too."

Before Belle could insist on taking the baby back, because it was clear Angel didn't want to leave her, Rohan sped out of the house with the boy in his arms. His cries echoed back to her, filling the small home and breaking her heart in a strange, aching way.