Chapter 78: When Trust Is Forced
{CAROLINE}
"Huh?" My brows knit together as confusion warred with indignation. "Leave me alone? By turning me into your human blood bank?"
The words tasted bitter on my tongue.
I wasn’t naïve. I knew how things worked in this academy and even outside in the real world. Vampires kept human blood banks—living ones. People, not objects. In exchange for protection and favor, humans offered their blood.
A pact.
A leash.
More like a blood pet.
"That’s the crude term for it," Vladimir replied without flinching. "But don’t worry. It’s only for show. Unless you’d rather have them coming for you every night."
I faltered.
The silence stretched, thick and oppressive. My eyes searched his face, trying to uncover deception, cruelty, some hidden amusement.
As a noble daughter of the human race, I was not ignorant of noble vampires.
From what I could remember, Lord Vladimir Nightborne was infamous for his indifference—no, his indifference—toward humans and other lesser races alike.
He neither courted their favor nor indulged in their company. There were no records, no whispered rumors, no scandalous documents that suggested he kept a human blood bank at his side.
So why now?
Why me?
Was it because I was a virgin?
Surely not.
A noble vampire like him would never lack for virgin blood. There were countless foolish nobles—human and otherwise—who would have offered themselves willingly, eagerly, just for the privilege of his attention.
Yet here I was.
Chosen.
And for reasons that refused to make sense.
"Why?" I finally asked, my voice quieter now. "Why me? And why should I trust you?"
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, slow and measured. "Good questions."
He tilted his head slightly. "As for the first question—I simply wanted to. And for the second..." His gaze sharpened. "You don’t have much choice."
Anger flared again, but he continued before I could interrupt.
"You know how this place works. Many vampires here keep human blood pets in exchange for protection. Would you rather it be someone else? Or would you prefer I hadn’t stepped in at all?"
"I don’t need protection," I snapped.
One of his brows lifted, unimpressed. "Really? Because if I hadn’t intervened, you would have been defiled—or dead."
My lips pressed together tightly.
He was right.
Without arcane magic, without my usual safeguards, I was exposed. Vulnerable in this other dimension that devoured weakness without remorse.
"You don’t need to worry," Vladimir went on, his voice lower now, almost gentle. "I won’t truly drink your blood. Marking you as mine is enough to ward off others. No vampire here will dare harm you again—not even Morgana."
The name sent a chill through me.
"And . . . ," he added, his tone shifting ever so slightly, "I won’t drink your blood unless... you want me to."
Heat flooded my cheeks.
"Huh?!" I spluttered. "Who would want that?! You idiot bloodsucker!"
The words came out shrill, ungraceful—nothing like the composed noblewoman I had been trained to be. My reaction startled even me.
Why was I reacting like this?
Where was my poise? My discipline?
Rather, why did this vampire seem as though he were flirting with me?
According to everything I had known, Lord Vladimir Nightborne was severe and distant—a man of cold restraint and rigid indifference. He was not known for idle words, much less teasing remarks.
Was he truly like this in real life?
Was this the real Vladimir?
He hadn’t seemed cold at all—except, perhaps, when he addressed the other vampires. Then his presence had turned sharp and merciless, as if frost had crept into his voice.
With me... it was different.
And that difference unsettled me far more than his fangs ever could.
I cleared my throat sharply and forced myself to straighten. "This is all too sudden," I said stiffly. "And I don’t trust you. This is only the second time we’ve interacted. I see no reason why a vampire would do something like this for a human."
Vladimir studied me for a long moment. His gaze wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t mocking.
If anything, it was... thoughtful.
"A fair concern," he said at last. "Then I won’t force an answer from you."
He stepped back, shadows already curling around his form as though eager to reclaim him. "When you decide—if you decide at all—you know where to find me."
And just like that, he was gone.
"Hey! Wait!" I called after him, the words tearing from my throat before I could stop them.
Too late.
The lake stood empty, silent save for the faint echo of my own breathing.
I dragged a hand down my face and let out a long sigh.
"Why are they all like this?" I muttered.
Unpredictable. Arrogant. Infuriating.
And far too dangerous to stir feelings I had no intention of acknowledging.
I took a deep breath, though it did little to steady me.
My pulse still raced—wild, erratic—thrumming beneath my skin as if my body had not yet realized that the danger had passed.
My fingers rose to my neck on instinct.
The wound was gone.
There was no tear in the flesh, no lingering ache, not even the faintest ridge where teeth had sunk into me.
My skin was smooth, unbroken—whole. As though nothing had ever happened at all.
And yet.
Only the dark, rusted stains upon my dress bore witness to the truth.
Blood.
My blood.
I stared at the fabric, my breath hitching as memory surged back with cruel clarity—the sharp pressure, the sudden heat, the way my body had gone rigid as fangs pierced skin.
"He bit me..." I whispered hoarsely. "And even drank my blood..."
The words should have disgusted me. They should have turned my stomach, filled me with revulsion and dread.
But they didn’t.
Instead, something twisted low in my abdomen—tightened, coiled—heat pooling in a place that had no business reacting at all.
A warmth that spread with treacherous slowness, igniting nerves I hadn’t known existed.
My face burned.
"...Damn it," I hissed under my breath, clenching my fists. "That bloodsucker."
