The Vampire's Court

Chapter 43- Pay Backs a Bitch *smut warning!*

***(A/N: hope y'all like smut)***

The sitting room in the manor was a blend of elegance and warmth, a space where the black and emerald color scheme softened just enough to make it feel inviting rather than foreboding. Deep emerald velvet drapes framed tall windows that allowed the late afternoon light to spill in, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. The walls, adorned with intricate black and gold wallpaper, were offset by rich, dark wood paneling that ran halfway up. A large, plush emerald-green rug with silver threads woven through it lay beneath their feet, and the furniture, a mix of black leather and green velvet, was arranged in a way that encouraged conversation and closeness.

A grand fireplace with a black marble mantle took up one wall, a crackling fire within it giving the room a cozy feel. Above the mantle, a large, ornately framed mirror reflected the warmth and light, making the room seem even larger and more inviting. Bookshelves filled with volumes of all sizes and subjects lined one wall, while an ornate chandelier with crystals catching the light hung from the ceiling, adding a touch of opulence to the room.

Gabriel and Andrei sat together on a low velvet settee, trying, with little success, to teach Mickey Romanian. Mickey's thick Irish accent butchered every word he tried to repeat, much to the amusement of the brothers. Andrei had tears of laughter in his eyes as he tried to correct Mickey's pronunciation, but the more they tried, the worse it seemed to get.

Gabriel leaned in closer to Mickey, trying to stifle his laughter as he repeated the word for what felt like the hundredth time. "Frate, try it again—'salut.' It's just a simple greeting. Say it with me: 'sa-lut.'"

Mickey furrowed his brow in concentration, his Irish accent thickening as he gave it another go. "Sa-lot?"

Andrei nearly choked on his tea, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Not 'salot,' Mickey. Salut. You're butchering it!"

Mickey threw up his hands in mock frustration, a grin spreading across his face. "Ah, ye Romanians and yer fancy pronunciations. 'Tis a wonder anyone can understand ye at all!"

Gabriel, still laughing, shook his head. "If you ever try to pass yourself off as one of us, they'll know you're a foreigner the second you open your mouth."

Mickey, undeterred, shrugged with a smile. "Aye, if the red hair didn't give it'away first. As long as I can still swing a sword and break a few bones, I reckon the rest doesn't matter much."

Andrei chuckled, wiping away a tear of laughter. "You've got that part down, at least. But we'll make a Romanian out of you yet. Just try not to scare the locals with your attempts at our language."

Mickey crossed his arms, feigning offense. "Ye lot are lucky I don't take this personally. Ye're clearly jealous of my superior Irish charm."

Gabriel clapped Mickey on the back, still grinning. "We wouldn't have it any other way, Mickey. But seriously, let's try something even simpler. Say, 'bună ziua.'"

Mickey took a deep breath and attempted it, "Boon... uh... zee-wah?"

Andrei and Gabriel exchanged looks, then burst into laughter again. "Close enough," Andrei managed to say through his laughter. "But let's stick to English for now, prieten. You might accidentally start a war with that accent!"

Gabriel chuckled, clapping Mickey on the back. "At this rate, you'll never pass for a Romanian."

Mickey grinned, unbothered by his lack of progress. "I'll stick to breaking things and leave the fancy talk to ye lads."

Across the room, Seraphine sat awkwardly beside Dimitri, her cheeks flushed as memories of their last encounter in the parlor room flooded her mind. She was acutely aware of how close he was, of the way his presence seemed to dominate the space around them. When she dared to glance at him, she found him already watching her with a knowing smile.