I didn’t know how to reply to her like Lucien, so I simply smiled warmly, and politely replied, “I am fine. But you should really take it easy, your wounds aren’t healing anymore, your blood levels must be lower.” This was an obvious conclusion of my observation of why she was still bleeding.

She didn’t reply, just staring at me with dazed eyes while letting the silence stretch. 

Next second, she gently moved her head, and her eyes immediately widened. As if the reality of where she was finally kicking in.

“I recovered some of my strength and managed to escape through the chains. 

Don’t worry, I have a plan to escape. It will all work out.” I adopted a solemn tone and made an acceptable excuse.

“B-but, I remember you lost so much bl…” Her voice shook as her arms tightly wrapped around me, her dark red eyes filled with fear and relief as she lightly whispered in my ears, “Thank God.” 

She dropped what she was about to say, but I can guess the basics of what must have happened from her reaction and other weird things.

Lucien had been tortured more than usual and had died. At that moment, I must have taken over his body and most of the wounds would’ve healed while I wasn’t conscious, but my subconscious was in his body. 

This explained why my blood was on every torture equipment.

‘Well this is better… I didn’t really take over, and killed the original Lucien atleast.’ I thought as I placed my hand on her soft white hair—gently patting it as some tears rolled down her eyes, hitting my neck.

“It’s not that my blood is low, I was just… I just grew unable to heal my wounds like usual after what happened last night… But it will be fine after I drink some blood, so it’s fine…” After a few seconds, she finally calmed down, and seriously answered my previous worry.

My pupils dilated wondering what might’ve caused it. But after looking at her more clearly, I realized she knew the reason herself but didn’t want to say it.

“Do you want to drink my blood?” I asked with a dazed look, ‘my’ death affected her so much that she unconsciously wanted to die. 

Vampires seemed to heal even with zero [vitality] stat, so their natural body eventually healed as long as they had the will to live. One had to give up on their life or be torn in shreds to genuinely die, and stop healing.

I was the proof, previous Lucien must have given up due to constant torture, but when my subconscious—which wanted to live—entered, my body started to heal, or there’s no way a vampire could’ve actually died from just torture, doesn’t matter how brutal, no? 

This was just a theory but from everything I knew, it seemed like the most probable.

Alya shook her head, “My body is weak due to the blood clots forming all over it, I won’t be much help right now, it will take some time before I correct my flow properly. But, on that thought, you should drink my blood… You will need it to fight against ‘him’ and my blood flow will improve immensely.” She suggested in an earnest tone.

Honestly, I am up for it. I was thinking of drinking the blood out of her unconscious body, and had to try my hardest to avoid it. But, if it also helps her while raising my chances for the upcoming fight, why not?

Alya raised her arms towards me, a motion I didn’t really understand. Must be a motion to signal me that she’s ready? I don’t know, but I loved vampire smut in my past life so you could say I am pretty experienced.

I first put her down, and then the only thing this body gave me—Muscle memory—‘My’ instincts, and desires, I let them take over me so I don’t fuck up based on just my smut knowledge.

She layed on the stone ground with her back to the wall, with her eyes widened.

My gaze quickly moved towards her pale neck, and her fully revealed collar bone.

Tuck!... Suck!

In a single motion, I placed her soft, cold flesh of the lower edge of neck in my mouth, placing my cheek on her warm collar bone. 

It tasted like her, the certain womanly odor that was addicting to smell, but some dirt and sweat was already covering it so the skin tasted a bit soury, but still ecstatic as it filled my nostrils.

Her face went completely crimson, her pupils dilated, she whispered in a moan, “S-should’ve waite… tiill marriaage, Idiott.” which was completely inaudible to me.

I pushed the soft flesh in between my sharp fangs, and bit it softly, but still sharp enough to pierce her skin.

My senses were quickly overwhelmed with warm, salty, yet sweet blood.

Her entire body seemed to shiver intensely as her warm breath hit my face, staring deeply in my eyes with extreme lust, like she wanted to eat me, but I was losing sense of reality, and her beautiful face due to immense pleasure, as goosebumps covered my body, with a weird itch in my stomach and heart.

The footsteps were just meters away, I noticed. I needed to hurry, but all my ears could focus on her moans that were getting louder and louder, and I just couldn’t think straight because of how warm her body was getting.

I completely laid on her, my chest against her massive, but spongy breasts that were sinking, and spreading on her body with my weight, also raising me a bit high as even spread out, they were just that big.

She was half to blame herself—Her arms were tightly wrapped around my muscular back, and waist, pulling me closer with such strength that I was surprised a woman with no muscles could execute.

The blood was boiling hot as it touched my tongue, but extremely sweet, like a Kool-Aid mixed with lemonade, and her unique odor.

I hastily gulped the delicious blood down my throat, my throat twitching for more.

Suddenly, as her blood entered my body, I felt thousands of images, very high quality like it was happening in real life.

In these flashes, I was in a first-person POV of small, barely six, white-haired with a cute face—Alya.

‘I’ was a white-haired girl, wearing a plain grey gown, a golden bracelet, heels on ‘my’ feet, running freely in an endless grassy plain, chasing behind an around-the-same-age, handsome boy wearing a long trench coat, and holding a cane with short black hair with red streaks while running from ‘me’ with a happy grin, as if we were playing tag.

In contrast to everything, ‘I’ was holding a long, sheathed katana-like blade, and my palms, and knuckles had thick claws.

Then the scene shifted to ‘me’ being in the bath with the boy, washing his back, then sleeping on his bed’s foot, and the things kept repeating in similar ways for ‘me’ for so many days that I couldn’t even keep count.

Everything in ‘my’ life revolved around him—from newborn state to adulthood, never experiencing anything remotely close to life until…

Everything was burning. We were running away. We were working together. Going through adventures, strategizing, fighting together. Giving each other hope in the rare moments of peace. But, then we were caught by a man in black armour and helmet, and locked together. We were tortured to a state where any other life form would certainly die, but—

These were… The best moments of ‘my’ life.