MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

As Blake's fingers brushed against the cool glass of wine, a sudden vice-like grip closed around his wrist, halting his movement. Startled, he turned to find Drake's cold gaze fixed upon him, the intensity of it sending a shiver down his spine.

"I'm sorry to intrude, milady," Drake's voice cut through the air like a knife, "but remember, he is to stay away from alcohol for the time being."

Elena's response was a stammering mess, her words stumbling over each other in a desperate attempt to placate the situation.

"Y..ye.yes! How could I have forgotten?!" Elena's voice wavered, her eyes darting nervously between Blake and Drake as she struggled to regain her composure.

Blake watched her, a flicker of betrayal igniting within him at her apparent acquiescence to Drake's command.

Feeling the pressure of Drake's grasp on his wrist, Blake's confusion morphed into seething anger. Who was this man to dictate what he could and could not do? The audacity of his actions bordered on insolence, and Blake found himself teetering on the edge of losing control.

A surge of frustration and indignation surged through him, threatening to spill over into outright rebellion. He resisted the urge to wrench his hand free, his jaw clenched tight in an effort to contain the tempest of emotions roiling within him.

But even as the fire of his anger burned hot and fierce, a small voice of reason whispered in the back of his mind, urging caution. He couldn't afford to antagonize Drake, not when his own memories remained shrouded in darkness and uncertainty. He still didn't know who was who and as such, making enemies this early wasn't a exactly the best idea.

With a visible effort, Blake forced himself to take a step back, disentangling his wrist from Drake's grasp with a measured calmness he didn't quite feel. He shot a pointed look at Elena, his disappointment simmering beneath the surface of his gaze.

"Excuse me," he muttered tersely, the words tinged with a hint of resentment. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, leaving behind the echo of his simmering frustration.

As Blake stormed away from the dining area, the echo of Elena's voice calling out his name followed him like a haunting refrain. He ignored her summons, his footsteps echoing hollowly in the empty hallway as he made his way to his room, his mind a tumultuous whirlwind of anger and confusion.

Entering the cool sanctuary of his chamber, Blake slammed the door shut behind him with a resounding thud, the sound reverberating through the stillness of the air. He crossed the room in quick strides, his jaw clenched tight with pent-up frustration.

Reaching the bathroom, he wasted no time in splashing his face with icy water, the shock of the cold serving as a bracing antidote to the seething anger that threatened to consume him whole. Droplets of water cascaded down his skin, mingling with the remnants of his fury as they dripped onto the tiled floor below.

There was something about Drake's audacity, his blatant disregard for boundaries, that rankled Blake to his very core. The way the man had grasped his wrist with such intensity, as if he were nothing more than a disobedient child in need of reprimand, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

But what puzzled Blake even more was the nagging sense of familiarity that clung to Drake's actions, like a half-remembered dream lingering just beyond the reach of consciousness. Wasn't Drake supposed to be nothing more than a servant, a mere cog in the intricate machinery of Elena's household?

And yet, there he was, wielding authority with a heavy hand and a steely resolve that belied his supposed station. It was as if he had forgotten his place entirely, overstepping the bounds of propriety with a brazenness that bordered on insolence.

As Blake pondered the enigma of Drake's behavior, a grim realization dawned upon him.

With a frustrated sigh, Blake turned away from the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with haunted eyes.

Elena's soft footsteps echoed in the quiet of Blake's room as she approached him, concern etched into the delicate lines of her features. "Blake, are you alright?" she asked gently, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the chamber.

Blake turned to face her, his expression carefully schooled into one of calm composure. "I'm fine, Elena," he replied evenly, though the simmering anger still churned beneath the surface of his facade.

Elena studied him for a moment, her gaze searching his face for any sign of distress. "You don't seem fine," she remarked, a furrow forming between her brows. "Was it Drake? I'll have a word with him if he's upset you."

Blake shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's not Drake," he assured her, though the memory of the aide's firm grip on his wrist still lingered like a ghostly imprint.

Elena stepped closer, her concern palpable in the air between them. "Then what is it, Blake?" she pressed, her voice soft with genuine worry. "You can tell me, you know. I'm here for you."

Blake hesitated for a moment, torn between the urge to confide in Elena and the lingering distrust that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. Finally, he sighed, relenting to the comforting familiarity of her presence. "It's just... I don't understand why Drake felt the need to intervene like that," he admitted, his frustration bubbling to the surface despite his efforts to suppress it.

Elena nodded understandingly, her gaze sympathetic. "I know it may seem strange, but there's a reason behind it," she explained gently, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Blake's shoulder. "Our doctor, the one who will be flying in to check on you, specifically mentioned that you should avoid alcohol during your recovery."

Blake's brow furrowed in confusion. "But why?" he asked, his curiosity piqued by Elena's explanation.

Elena sighed, a hint of sadness shadowing her features. "It's because of your condition," she replied solemnly, her gaze meeting his with unwavering sincerity. "Alcohol could interfere with your recovery process, and we can't afford to take any risks with your health."

Blake nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fall into place. "I see," he murmured, a sense of understanding dawning within him. "I suppose I owe Drake an apology then."

Elena smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with affection. "I'm sure he'll appreciate the gesture," she said, her voice gentle as a caress. "And if there's anything else you need, Blake, please don't hesitate to ask. You're not alone in this."

With that, she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before turning to leave.

Elena paused at the door, a small smile playing across her lips as she reflected on the events that had just occurred. In her mind's eye, she saw Blake's expression soften with understanding, felt the tension in the room dissipate with his acceptance of her explanation.

She couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards Drake, her ever-vigilant aide whose quick thinking had averted a potential disaster. If he hadn't intervened when he did, who knew what consequences Blake's impulsive actions might have wrought?

"What would I have done if this fool took a sip?" she mused silently to herself, a shiver of apprehension tracing a delicate path down her spine. The thought was too terrible to contemplate - the delicate balance of their carefully constructed plan hanging in the balance, threatened by the whims of fate.

But thanks to Drake's steady alertness and unwavering dedication to his duties, disaster had been averted. And for that, Elena knew she owed him a debt of gratitude that could never truly be repaid.

With a glance over her shoulder, Elena decided to take a gamble, testing the waters to gauge Blake's present emotional state.

"If you aren't too upset with me and Drake, would you still care to play that game I suggested earlier?" Her voice was soft, almost ethereal, as if she were trying to soothe the lingering tension in the room.

Blake hesitated for a moment, considering his response. He could feel the weight of Elena's gaze upon him, her words hanging heavy in the air between them. In truth, he was still seething with indignation over Drake's handling of the situation earlier. But to outright refuse Elena's offer would only serve to worsen an already delicate situation.

The option to turning down the open invitation was no longer available as he thought about how that would make him an asshole or a child who wouldn't reason. He would simply play whatever stupid game she wanted for a while and then leave.

"I suppose a game wouldn't hurt," he replied at last, his tone carefully neutral. "What game did you have in mind?"

A fleeting look of amusement flickered across Elena's features, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Truth or death," she replied, her voice ringing out with a strange, almost ominous finality.

Blake's brow furrowed in confusion. Truth or death? The game seemed innocuous enough on the surface, but there was something about the way Elena said it that sent a chill down his spine.

"Truth or death," he repeated, more to himself than to Elena. "Very well, then. Let's play."