Chapter 98: Vampire Gathering*
Clara pushed herself up.
Lucian reached for her hip, but Clara swatted his hand away. Her blonde hair was a mess. Her pale skin was slick with sweat. Cum still dripped from between her thighs, running down her legs in thin white trails.
"Don’t even think about it," she breathed.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. He was still hard. His crimson eyes dropped to her body.
Clara saw where he was looking and rolled her eyes. "Consequences of having a vampire boyfriend," she murmured.
Lucian laughed.
Clara shifted forward. She positioned herself between his legs, then leaned down and pressed his dick between her breasts. They enveloped him completely, the warm flesh squeezing his shaft from both sides.
"Mmph—" Lucian groaned.
Clara held her breasts together with both hands and started moving. Up. Down. Up. Down. The soft skin glided along his length, slick with sweat and the remnants of their earlier rounds.
Pam. Pam. Pam.
"Aahhn—" Lucian’s head fell back against the pillow. His fingers gripped the sheets.
Clara watched his face as she moved. A faint smirk tugged at her lips. She leaned her head down, stuck out her tongue, and ran it over the tip of his dick every time it emerged from between her breasts.
"Nnngh— Clara—"
Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
The wet sounds filled the room. Clara’s breasts bounced with each movement, his dick sliding between them like some kind of tit pussy, the tip glistening with her saliva. She swirled her tongue around the head — then took just the tip into her mouth and sucked.
"Aaah— fuck—"
She released him with a wet pop, then went back to the titjob.
Her hands squeezed tighter. Her tongue flicked out with every upward stroke.
Pam-pam-pam—
"*Ah— ah— ahhn— I’m close—"
Clara took him into her mouth fully. Her head bobbed up and down, her lips stretched around his shaft, her tongue working the underside. One hand still squeezed her breasts around the base while the other cupped his balls.
"Nnngh— Clara— ahhh— I’m—"
She sucked harder. Faster. Her cheeks hollowed.
"AAAHHN—"
Lucian’s hips bucked. Thick ropes of cum shot into Clara’s mouth. She didn’t pull away. Her throat moved as she swallowed — taking every drop.
"Ah... ah..."
Lucian’s body went slack against the pillow. His chest heaved. His vision blurred.
Clara released him with a wet smack and sat up. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and swallowed one final time.
"There," she said flatly. "Now we rest."
She collapsed beside him, her head finding his shoulder. Within seconds, her breathing steadied.
Lucian stared at the ceiling. The room smelled like sex and sweat. The sheets beneath them were ruined beyond saving.
He closed his eyes.
Finally, he let himself rest.
*********************
Two weeks later.
The Khamsin island.
A private vessel cut through the waters near the Sudanese border, approaching a stretch of coastline that appeared on no map. Behind it, a second vessel followed — larger, sleeker, painted black.
On the first boat, four figures stood at the railing. The Apep family. Their clothing was dark green, embroidered with golden serpent motifs. The patriarch — a gaunt man with hollow cheeks and slitted eyes — stared at the hidden island as it slowly revealed itself, the bloodline concealment parting just enough to allow entry.
On the second boat, four figures stood in silence. The Du Maurier family.
At the front stood Louisa Du Maurier. Her dark hair was pinned up elegantly. Her pale face was beautiful, cold, immaculate — the face of a woman who had not aged a day in over two centuries. Her crimson eyes scanned the island with mild disinterest.
Beside her stood Lemora Du Maurier. Younger. Dark hair like her mother’s but loose around her shoulders. Her red eyes were curious, alert, taking everything in.
Behind them, two servants stood with their heads bowed.
The Du Mauriers outranked both the Khamsin and the Apeps. The Apep family’s strongest was a Peak Grand Core Realm cultivator — formidable by any standard. But the Du Mauriers had a Mid Astral Realm elder who rarely left the estate. And Louisa herself was Early Astral Realm. A force that could level a small country without breaking a sweat.
Then there was Lemora. Rumored to possess an S-Grade ability. The details were kept strictly within the family.
They were welcomed like royalty. Because they were.
Tariq al-Khamsin stood at the entrance of the mansion, flanked by Khalil and Dalia, his wife. The Apep patriarch took his designated seat without a word.
"Lady Du Maurier." Tariq bowed his head. "An honor."
"Lord Khamsin." Louisa’s voice was cool. "Let us skip the pleasantries. I dislike being kept waiting."
Tariq smiled. "Of course. Please."
He led them to a grand dining hall. A long table stretched across the center, loaded with dishes — roasted meats, spiced lamb, grilled game — arranged with meticulous care. Beside each plate sat a crystal goblet filled with dark, viscous liquid. Blood. Mixed with wine to suit the palette of different vampire bloodlines.
They sat. The Apep patriarch at one end. Louisa and Lemora on the right side. Tariq at the head. His family filled the remaining seats.
Louisa picked up her goblet, took a slow sip, and set it down.
"The Dark King," she said. "You contacted us about a plan to awaken him. I’ve been patient. Now tell me — what progress have you made?"
Tariq picked up his own goblet. He drank slowly, savoring the blood before speaking.
"That is precisely why I raised the matter of the prophecy child," he said. "The one with the ancient bloodline."
The Apep patriarch leaned forward. His slitted eyes narrowed. "And what does that have to do with this matter?"
Tariq set down his goblet.
"The prophecy child has been sighted."
Louisa’s fingers stilled on the table. "Then where is he?"
"Currently being searched for." Tariq turned his head slightly. A servant at the edge of the hall stepped forward, carrying a stack of parchment. Tariq took them and began handing one to each person at the table.
Louisa received hers. Lemora received hers.
They looked down.
Louisa’s crimson eyes widened.
Lemora’s crimson eyes widened.
Silver hair. Crimson eyes. Pale skin. Sharp features. Lean, defined build.
The portrait was detailed. Accurate. Drawn from Zara’s descriptions, enhanced by a skilled artist.
Louisa and Lemora exchanged a glance.
Louisa’s glance was sharp. A flash of something dangerous behind her eyes.
Lemora’s glance was wide. Shocked.
The glance lasted half a second. Then both women looked away, their expressions smoothing into neutrality before anyone could notice.
"The prophecy child is described in the ancient texts as a Lost Prince of the vampires." He took another sip of blood. "Or a wave of destruction. The texts are... ambiguous on that point."
The Apep patriarch studied his portrait with a frown. "An ancient bloodline. Light and blood abilities. Interesting."
"Interesting, yes." Tariq set down his goblet. "But to think he’s just an early Core Realm cultivator is quite disappointing. It seems the prophecy child is still in his infant stage."
He leaned forward.
"With his blood, we can awaken the Dark King. We may even evolve past our current bloodline limits." His crimson eyes swept across the table. "But we have to pool our resources to find him and kill him before he grows."
Louisa said nothing. Her face was a mask.
Lemora said nothing. Her fingers gripped her goblet too tightly.
The Apep patriarch nodded slowly. "A boy with an ancient bloodline, still weak. Killable. This is feasible."
"More than feasible," Tariq said. "My daughter encountered him. He is skilled, but his power is limited by his realm. If we move quickly—"
The discussion continued. Strategies. Resources. Search parameters. Territories to cover. The Khamsin would handle Egypt and North Africa. The Apeps would take East Africa and the Middle East. The Du Mauriers would cover Europe.
Louisa contributed when asked.
Lemora was silent the entire time.
The private Du Maurier jet cut through the night sky over the Mediterranean, heading north toward France.
The cabin was luxurious — dark leather seats, dim lighting, a single servant standing by the exit with his head bowed.
Louisa sat by the window, her crimson eyes reflected in the glass.
Lemora sat across from her.
"He was alive." Lemora’s voice shook. "He was alive and you didn’t tell me."
Louisa didn’t turn from the window.
"You told me he died in an accident." Lemora’s hands were clenched in her lap. "What accident, huh? There was no accident. That’s clearly Lucian."
"I didn’t know he was still alive," Louisa said calmly.
"Don’t lie to me."
"I am not lying."
"You are!" Lemora stood up. The cabin felt smaller with her standing.
Louisa finally turned from the window. Her expression was cold.
"You were getting too attached to that human boy," she said, her voice sharp. "It was unbecoming. So yes, it was a good thing he left."
"Good thing?" Lemora’s voice cracked. "You tortured him for years. You drank his blood. And when you finally killed him—"
"I did not kill him. Apparently."
"You thought you did!"
"That is enough, Lemora." Louisa’s aura flared. Early Astral Realm pressure filled the cabin. The servant by the door trembled. The temperature dropped.
Lemora staggered but didn’t back down. Tears glistened in her crimson eyes.
"He was my friend," she whispered. "The only person who ever protected me without wanting something in return. And you—"
"I said enough."
Lemora stared at her mother for a long moment. Then she turned and walked to the back of the cabin, disappearing behind a partition.
Silence.
Louisa sat back in her seat. Her aura retracted. She turned to the window again.
Then her lips curled.
Until she was laughing — hahaha — her shoulders shaking, her hand covering her mouth, her crimson eyes wide with something that wasn’t quite sanity.
The servant by the door didn’t dare look up.
Louisa touched her own face, her fingers tracing her cheek, her lips, her jaw.
"I see why his blood was so addictive," she whispered to her reflection. "So sweet. An ancient vampire bloodline."
She closed her eyes.
In the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw silver hair. Crimson eyes. A boy on his knees. A boy chained in her basement. A boy whose blood tasted like nothing she’d ever encountered in two hundred years of existence.
"If I can have him again..." She opened her eyes. Her reflection was smiling. "I will never let go of you this time, my blood sack."
END OF ARC 1: DAWN OF THE ETERNAL NIGHT