Angelique Amantine Bellerose is a vampire, one that still desperately clings to her humanity.
Her first love is none other than Leon Belmont, a renowned vampire hunter. He is the barrier that keeps the last remnants of her soul from darkening, but b...
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Leon tried catching his breath, but the sharp pain that followed from each inhale was excruciating. It didn't help that Lady Anjou's weight was currently crushing him, her hands tightly wrapped around his throbbing throat.
She was straddling him, pinning him down with her firm grasp as she watched him struggle underneath her, entranced by the sight of his vulnerability.
He winced when he felt the tips of her talon-like nails dig into his skin, but surprisingly she didn't apply further pressure. It was as if she held back; she seemed not to want to mortally wound him, even though her face expressed different intentions.
He wanted to push her off, but each movement caused her to grasp to constrict harder.
All he could do was exchange awkward eye contact with her.
Grudgingly, he looked back at her; maybe he could search for a weakness or an opening to free himself from her grasp.
Her blood red eyes glowed, scorching him with pure hate as she glared down at him with accusation.
For what, baiting her?
He knew what he did was careless. Not only did he go against Trefor's original plan, but he endangered them both by acting on his own without warning.
Leon knew he would be facing severe consequences for his actions—if he made it out alive—but his poorly executed plan worked to an extent. It proved his theory right: Lady Anjou was starving for blood—human blood.
It was evident Lady Anjou had not fed for a substantial amount of time, at least not on humans. She should have been able to restrain herself when he exposed her to his blood, just like how she controlled herself in their company. But she failed and acted upon her primal instinct—the need to feed. It made more sense as to why the countess was rumored never to stray from the castle grounds—even at nights—and why no villager ever reported attacks or unexplainable deaths since her arrival.
It would not surprise him if that migraine she experienced before was caused by her lack of nourishment.
She was showing several symptoms of it: The constrained look in her eyes; the small tremors that rolled off her body; her irregular breathing; the way she was gritting her teeth. All this validated his theory. Lady Anjou was self-deprived of human blood, and she was currently fighting herself from taking her fill of his.
He watched her with a mixture of fascination and contempt. He noticed how her once soft and delicate brows were now hard and sharp as they fell into a deep furrow, creating rough grooves on her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Even then, she was beautiful— if only her eyes weren't the color of blood.
He shook away the unsolicited thought. He needed to focus on freeing himself; he could not risk the woman giving in to her urge to devour him while he was in a defenseless state. He also needed to locate Trefor; he was somewhere nearby underneath all those books and broken wood.
