To His Hell and Back-Chapter 110: Sent Over

Cassius enjoyed as he watched the girl shrinking into the corner, kicking the duvet, annoyance as well as embarrassment filling her entire soul so much so that she wanted to scream and had to fight the urge of doing so. Clearly she didn’t remember what had happened last night and that worked out for him.

A part of his words were truth but not entirely. By no means had Arabella climbed to his bed. Though she was extremely relieved that she had slept so well even through all the bloodshed, it didn’t mean that she would suddenly climb to his bed and take a nest there.

Truth was last night he had gotten another one of a "visitor".

What had happened was that last night after everything, Arabella had fallen asleep like a cat around the couch. She muttered and yawned, "I will go back to... floor." but she had nested herself in the couch, deep in her sleep that it was almost impossible for her to move.

He had chuckled inwardly. After all he didn’t mind whether she would sleep in the couch or move to his bed. He wasn’t too caring about who would spend the night beside him especially when there was so many time in the past during war where he had to close his eyes and sleep beside the corpses of his comrades. He had lost count of it and thus even if someone dead slept beside him, Cassius wouldn’t have budged.

The only reason why he had told her to sleep at the floor was for her sake. He could tell she wasn’t too happy being in a room with a vampire and if he had forced her to sleep beside him, that would simply be uncouth.

The floor was the best place for her and she even seemed comfortable sleeping there as if it was her own birdcage

Seeing her in the couch, he had pulled her a duvet, thinking that from the human book dictionary, humans tend to be more weaker in the cold and though she was beside the fireplace, Arabella was so thin that he worries even a draft of cold wind could cause her to tremble like a newborn fawn.

Silent with his own thought, he didn’t move from the couch either.

He sat at the corner, looking at her quietly. The flame from the fireplace crackled and the faint reddish yellow glow rested on her face. Once he had confirmed that he really care for her safety, things became easier for him to swallow.

It was easier to be true to his own intention, not wanting her hurt or for her to get sick. It was also easier for him to understand that he could have this feelings for someone even when he could be put at the risk of death.

He could also acknowledge finally that he really does enjoy Arabella’s company and sees her more than simply a creature he should keep around for his entertainment.

When things dawned on him, Cassius’s red eyes slowly soften and the half moon birthmark on his neck pulstated in a gentle tune.

His smile didn’t waver as he spoke, his tone almost bored. "People have been rather testy lately. Poison in my goblet yesterday, and today, a mercenary. How predictable."

He didn’t bother turning around. He could feel them. Shadows lurking in the dark, the weight of steel in their grip, their breath held in anticipation. Red eyes glowed like embers in the void, locked onto him with lethal intent. How quaint.

Cassius exhaled slowly, tilting his head just slightly, as if mildly inconvenienced.

"I do hope you were paid well," he mused, "Because you won’t be leaving with your lives."

"Hah," one of the mercenaries scoffed, parting his lips to speak, only for the words to die in his throat.

A sickening, wet squelch filled the air. The sound of flesh parting, of a blade meeting its mark with merciless precision.

He turned, instinctively reaching for his weapon, only to freeze. His ally stood rigid, eyes wide with shock, his throat neatly sliced open in a perfect, gaping line. Blood spilled in thick, pulsing waves, staining the floor in an instant.

But that wasn’t what terrified him.

No.

What shook him to his core was the impossible fact that Cassius, still standing exactly where he had been, had not moved. Not a flicker, not a blur of motion.

Nothing.

How? How could this be? Even a pureblood vampire, for all their unnatural speed and power, couldn’t kill without so much as lifting a finger.

If they could— They would be no different than a god.

Before the man could tighten his grasp on the knife, his eyes moved toward the couch only to find that Cassius was gone and an arm had pierced through his chest.

"I can’t even be bothered to ask who sent you here," Cassius whispered as he slowly pulled out his hands from the body of the last standing mercenaries, "Seeing how sloppy this is, it’s not Morgana this time."

In less than a second, Renard, the blue haired vampire had opened the door. He wasn’t the least startled by the bloodshed that had occurred in front of him and instead closed the door behind him. frёewebnoѵēl.com

The mercenary barely had time to hit the floor before Renard stepped forward, his expression as calm as ever. He offered a towel, pristine and untouched by the blood that now pooled beneath them.

He spoke smoothly, answering Cassius’s earlier question. "Your Highness, I suspect this is the work of Minister Hans."

Cassius hummed, dabbing away the splatters of crimson from his hands with casual grace. "Hans, Hans... Right, that name." He tilted his head slightly, recalling the minister. Unlike Rueben, Hans was calculated, careful, always operating from the shadows. But tonight? This was sloppy.

"Too crude for his usual work," Cassius mused aloud, brows knitting together before his lips curled into a smirk. "Unless, of course, there’s a reason for such recklessness."

Renard, ever the efficient one, had already anticipated his thoughts. "Minister Hans has a son, Your Highness. Have you forgotten about him?"

Cassius paused mid wipe, his golden eyes flickering with mild interest before a sharp, amused glint settled in them. "Ah. It seems he wasn’t impressive enough for me to remember." He chuckled, tossing the stained towel aside. "What great honor do I owe for this pathetic attempt, then?"

Renard, already moving to clean away the evidence, answered without missing a beat. "Three years ago, he attempted to join your army. Instead, he managed to offend you. So naturally, you broke his leg."

Cassius arched a brow, tapping his chin in mock thought. "Ah, right. And given that he’s human..." His smirk deepened. "He couldn’t heal, could he? So he held a grudge against me I see."

Renard only gave a slight bow. "Precisely, Your Highness."

"Then that’s all? It’s been three years and now he came back for such a very very petty attack?" Cassius furrowed his eyebrows as he saw something that gleamed. He bent his knees down, picking the gleaming object from the mercenary’s pocket, pulling it to show a bright purple hue of liquid held inside a crystal flask. "Ah, so this was their original plan. Yet they couldn’t even throw this liquid to me and failed miserably."

He hummed, though he hadn’t known enough about the liquid, he could tell almost instantly that this was the potion that his father wanted to see- the one enchanted by a sorcerer, one that could turn vampires into brainless creatures called Remnants.

"Please, do not touch it, Your Highness," Renard said as he furrowed while covering his nose, "That object smells rotten."