Chapter 6

Cassandra's POV

It hurts.

But the pain in my chest is far worse.

I bit down on my teeth and lifted my head, my vision blurring from the agony.

A few steps ahead, Alexander had already pulled Serena tightly into his arms. His towering frame stood like an immovable mountain, sheltering her completely beneath his protective wings.

"It's alright, Serena. I'm here." His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a soothing tenderness I had never heard from him before.

"Alexander... I was so scared. I almost killed someone just now... I didn't mean to, I was just so thirsty..." Serena buried her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Her soft arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her entire body trembling like a frightened bird.

"I know. The bloodlust of a newborn is difficult to endure. This isn't your fault." Alexander's large, cold palm gently stroked her golden hair, pulling her even closer.

The maid Martha, who had narrowly escaped death, scrambled out of the room on hands and knees. The sound of her footsteps faded down the corridor.

In that entire room, it seemed as if only the two of them existed.

They were kindred, creator and progeny bound together in mutual dependence.

And I sat there like a ridiculous fool, disheveled and collapsed in a dark corner.

No one cared whether I lived or died.

Alexander's gaze remained fixed on Serena's face, not sparing even a millimeter of attention for me. Those vampire ears of his, capable of detecting the slightest sound, couldn't possibly have missed the crash when I fell, nor could he have failed to smell the scent of blood flowing from my elbow.

But he never turned around.

Because in the presence of that "fragile" newborn vampire sister, the pain of his human wife meant absolutely nothing.

I slowly released my hand from my elbow and stared at the blood covering my palm. My heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, then ruthlessly crushed.

Go to hell, Cassandra.

I mocked my own stupidity. How could I have deluded myself into thinking he would listen to my explanation, that he would care whether I was hurt or not?

Using my uninjured hand, I braced myself against the floor and, enduring the sharp pain, slowly and silently pulled myself up from the ground.

I made no sound, nor did I spare another glance at the embracing figures. Dragging my injured arm, I walked step by step out of that suffocating room.

The air in the corridor was cold as an ice cellar.

I leaned against the frigid marble wall, my right hand pressed desperately against my injured left elbow. Blood seeped through the gaps between my fingers, the sticky sensation nauseating. But I didn't immediately return to my room to bandage it. My legs felt as heavy as lead, unable to move another step.

The sounds from Serena's room gradually quieted. That heavy oak door hadn't been fully closed but left slightly ajar, leaving a gap of a few inches.

Firelight from the hearth leaked through the crack, casting a dim yellow band of light across the shadowy corridor floor.

Like a masochist, I couldn't control myself from slowly edging closer to that light, inch by inch.

Don't look, Cassandra. Go back. A voice in my head screamed desperately.

But I still stopped outside the door. Through that half-open crack, I could see clearly what was happening inside.

In the center of the room, on that enormous velvet bed, Alexander sat on its edge. Serena knelt trembling on the carpet before him, her hands clutching desperately at his suit trousers like a drowning person grasping the only piece of driftwood.

"I'm still so thirsty, Alexander..." Serena looked up at him, her once-beautiful face now somewhat distorted by bloodlust, the crimson depths of her eyes flickering with dangerous light in the firelight. "Ordinary blood plasma doesn't work... even the scent of that human just now couldn't quench this burning feeling inside my body."

Alexander lowered his gaze to look at her. That face which was always cold as frost toward me now carried a hint of indulgent resignation.

"I know. You've just completed your transformation, and my blood of first embrace flows through your veins. Ordinary sustenance is too bland for you."

As he spoke, he raised his right hand.

Hidden outside the door, I held my breath, not understanding what he intended to do.

In the next second, Alexander extended his left hand. From his long, pale index finger, a sharp black nail suddenly extended like a blade. Without any hesitation, he used that nail to slash a deep gash across the inside of his right wrist.

"Hiss—"

I gasped sharply, quickly covering my mouth with my hand to prevent any sound from escaping.

Dark crimson blood, so concentrated it was almost black, immediately gushed forth.

With it came a scent I had never encountered before. It wasn't like human blood with its sweet metallic tang, but rather filled with an ancient, powerful, tremor-inducing sense of dominance. That scent mixed cold cedar fragrance with some kind of fatal allure, and even I, a mere human, felt dizzy and disoriented the moment I caught its trace.

This was the source blood of a pureblood lord.

"Drink." Alexander offered his bleeding wrist to Serena's lips.

A sound almost like a greedy growl emerged from Serena's throat. Without hesitation, she opened her mouth and bit down on his wrist with those two sharp fangs, drinking deeply in large, eager gulps.

"Mm..." She closed her eyes, an expression of ecstatic satisfaction spreading across her face.

I stood frozen outside the door, the blood in my entire body seeming to freeze solid in that instant. A tearing pain erupted from deep within my heart, a hundred times worse than the scrape on my elbow, even worse than when he had bitten through my neck.

During the first year after marrying into Alexander's manor, in my efforts to better understand my husband, I had scoured nearly every ancient tome about the blood clan in the manor's library. Old butler Ilias had also, in his characteristically flat tone, educated me about the rules of this dark race.

In this cruel world of eternal night, when vampires fed on human blood, it was called "feeding." Like humans eating a steak or drinking a glass of water, it was predation and consumption devoid of any emotional significance.

But when vampires shared blood between themselves, that was another matter entirely.

It was an intimate, sacred act, even one laden with intense erotic meaning. It was the mingling of souls and power, the highest level of trust. Typically, only a creator and his most cherished progeny, or... soulbound mates, would engage in such an act.

And now, my husband was feeding another woman with his own blood.

I watched Serena greedily swallow his blood, watched Alexander use his other hand to gently stroke her golden hair, soothing her agitation.

The firelight cast their shadows onto the wall, intertwining together, perfect as a classical oil painting.