I Had Disgusted Him

Riley's POV

I fell in love with Theo the moment he lifted me from the ruins all those years ago.

Theo Blake was a retired legendary hunter, an Alpha standing tall at six foot two. My family had been annihilated, my entire clan slaughtered by vampires, and it was he who stepped into that blood-soaked carnage and pulled my dying body back from hell. His affection had always been direct and burning hot—warm and forthright with everyone, and toward me, utterly indulgent without the slightest reservation.

I depended on him, and gradually, feelings that crossed the boundary between adoptive father and son began to grow.

This affection was shameful. He was my adoptive father, yet in my wet dreams, I dreamed of his thick cock pounding into my hole over and over while I twisted my hips in response, sobbing, "Please... slower... my hole's so full..."

I would wake with my underwear sticky and wet, and could only rush to wash them clean before Theo noticed.

One morning, Theo pushed open the bathroom door and caught me hand-washing my underwear. He laughed and teased, "Our Riley's all grown up—already knows how to wash his own intimate clothes. But don't you have class today? Leave them, I'll wash them for you."

He used to wash all my clothes, but ever since Theo started appearing in my dreams, I'd refused to let him handle my undergarments.

My whole body went rigid. I absolutely couldn't let him see the milky white fluid staining the fabric. "N-no need... I'm almost done."

Time passed like this, and I began to sense that Theo didn't find me repulsive.

So I clutched the confession letter I'd hidden away for so long, my fingertips trembling with nerves as I stood outside his bedroom door.

I hesitated for a long time, finally gathering the courage to push the door open—only to have the scene leaking through the crack shatter me instantly.

The room was dark, no lights on. On the bed was Theo's silhouette, leaning down to gently kiss Isolde in her sleep.

Isolde was his adopted daughter, a pureblooded vampire Omega. In his youth, Theo had deeply loved Isolde's birth mother—a gentle vampire woman who died tragically under a hunter's blade while protecting human civilians. He had transferred all his debt and devotion onto her orphaned daughter.

I heard Theo's voice, utterly tender: "My Isolde, sleep well."

Such a light phrase, yet it crashed down on my heart and shattered all my foolish delusions.

Perhaps my ragged breathing was too loud—the faint noise at the door startled him.

Theo looked up, his gaze landing on where I hid by the doorway. He straightened and walked over, the deep affection in his eyes fading, replaced by his usual gentle composure.

"Riley?" His voice was soft. "What are you doing standing there?"

My throat was dry and tight. I clutched that letter filled with confessions of love, my eyes burning with unshed tears that I forced back down.

He looked down at me from his height, his fingertips lightly brushing my tense cheek. He asked quietly, "Riley, you wouldn't be having any inappropriate thoughts, would you?"

He was reminding me that my feelings shouldn't exist—that they were transgressive, filthy, and ridiculous.

I opened my mouth, but in the end could only bite down hard on my lower lip and nod forcefully.

From that day on, I reined in all my feelings, sealed away my affection for Theo completely, and never dared cross that line again.

But youthful infatuation is never truly controllable. I thought I wouldn't fall for anyone again, yet I helplessly sank into Eliot Vautier's noble restraint.

He was a vampire progenitor who had existed for a thousand years, born with severe mysophobia, never initiating physical contact with others, always maintaining a polite and distant demeanor. He was invited to teach regularly at St. Vera Academy, instructing courses on eliminating fallen vampires.

Among all the academy's novice hunters, I was the only one he taught hands-on.

His slender fingers covered the back of my hand, his low voice resonating by my ear: "When you grip the gun, don't let your hand shake."

His warm breath brushed past my ear. I was practically held in his embrace, close enough to smell the faint scent of roses on Eliot's body—and then that thing in my pants shamefully hardened.

"Wait... wait a moment, I need to use the restroom..."

I rushed to the bathroom, and when I pulled down my pants, I saw my cock swollen and gleaming. I helplessly covered my flushed, burning face, but Eliot's handsome features refused to leave my mind.

I had stupidly fallen for someone again—after all, Eliot had never personally taught any other young hunter how to eliminate fallen vampires.

On Valentine's Day, I went to find him to confess, face burning red, but at the corner I heard the voice of a vampire elder. I stopped in my tracks.

The elder asked him, "You should marry. The continuation of the vampire bloodline cannot be interrupted. That young hunter by your side, Riley—you wouldn't..."

My heartbeat surged violently. I desperately wanted to hear his answer.

Eliot stood at his imposing height of six foot two, his powerful build radiating divinity. His wine-red eyes gazed into the distance as he said, "The vampire race must maintain pure bloodlines. Isolde's pureblooded compatibility is the highest. When she comes of age, I will wed her as the vampire queen. As for Riley... I've never given him a second thought. Breaking my usual habits to personally teach him hunting techniques and set aside my mysophobia to attend to him closely—it was only to add one more person to protect Isolde."

I froze at the corridor corner, my entire body ice-cold.

So in his eyes, I was nothing but a tool to protect his future bride.

My second secret crush ended without conclusion, rotting silently in the depths of my heart.

I began to fear falling in love, and simply returned to live at the Hunter Association, where my hunter mentor resided—Julian Thorne.

He was the president of the Hunter Association, the most elite Alpha in the human world, equally standing at six foot two, a man of few words and great severity.

When he saw me return, he frowned slightly and asked, "Did someone wrong you out there?"

My eyes stung and I nearly shed tears, cursing myself inwardly for being pathetic—it was just a failed crush, nothing more.

Julian didn't press further. He walked over and gently patted my back, the gesture carrying a note of comfort.

I didn't dare hope for love anymore. I just wanted to stay quietly by his side.

But affection can never truly be hidden—the greed buried in one's heart will eventually be exposed.

After a training cycle ended, only the two of us remained in the office. Julian paused from organizing files, looked up at me, and said flatly, "Riley, the way you stare at me looks like you're looking at a bed partner."

I lowered my head, not daring to let him see my reddening eyes, and whispered, "I'm sorry..."

I knew—I had disgusted him.

Before I could compose myself, his fingertips tapped the desk. "Your temperament is unstable. You're not suited to remain at headquarters for core missions."

I understood. He was driving me away.

In that moment, the last trace of warmth in my heart was completely extinguished.

I packed my belongings and left the familiar city alone, embarking on a two-year journey of tempering. During those two years, I slept rough under the stars, moved day and night through danger zones, slaying fallen vampires and purging rabid werewolves, burying all my emotions, all my longing, all my grievances deep inside, numbing myself with endless missions.

It was also during the first year of that journey that I completed my secondary gender differentiation.

I became the most ordinary human Beta.