Page 51 of BLOOD LUST | YANDERE VAMPIRES

The corridor stretched out behind her in long shadows, but she couldn't feel anything past the tight knot in her chest. Her arms folded over her waist like she was trying to keep herself from unravelling.

Calixto's rejection hadn't been cruel. It hadn't needed to be. It was the kind that slid beneath the skin—quiet and cold and familiar, like the sting of winter air on a wound that never healed right.

Her throat constricted. Her vision blurred at the edges. And then—just one breath hitched, caught against her ribs like it didn't want to leave her body.

And in that single breathless second, someone stepped into the silence.

"Y/N?"

She turned too quickly.

Wiped her cheeks too late.

Adrian was already there.

He lingered several feet away, his silhouette framed by torchlight. Shirt untucked, sleeves haphazardly rolled, dark hair tousled like he'd just emerged from something he shouldn't have survived.

He looked like he had stepped out of a fevered dream—beautiful in a dangerous way, radiant in a way that made her pulse thrum beneath her skin.

"You okay?" he asked, voice lower now, his steps deliberate and slow as he approached, like trying not to spook something fragile.

There was a wildness in him—like a storm that hadn't fully passed. And yet his gaze, for once, wasn't teasing or intense or hungry.

She nodded on instinct—then stopped herself. Her head shook once, mumbling an incoherent "No.."

There was a long pause, a moment where neither of them breathed. And then she whispered, her voice breaking like glass beneath the weight of her restraint, "Why do you all keep doing this to me?"

Adrian's expression shifted. Something flickered in his eyes—an emotion too complicated to name.

He didn't smile, and when he answered, his voice had turned hushed and heavy. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe because you're the only real thing left in this place?"

He took a slow step forward.

She didn't move—even as the space between them narrowed—close enough to feel the tension pulling tight between their ribs like a drawn string. Close enough to sense the shift in the air as his presence filled it.

"I saw him walk away," Adrian murmured. "Didn't look like you wanted him to."

"That's none of your business," she said, the words trembling more than she meant them to.

"No," he agreed quietly. "But I want it to be."

Her heart stuttered.

Y/N raised a brow, staring at him with confused; glossy eyes. "What the hell does that even mean?" She mumbled, a slight frustration tainting her voice. "What do any of you ever mean.."

His hand came up, deliberate and unhurried, like he was afraid too sudden a movement would make her vanish. The backs of his fingers grazed just beneath her jaw, tilting her chin up with a touch so featherlight it made her shiver.

Fingers brushed the side of her face, calloused pads grazing just beneath her jaw as he tilted her chin until her eyes lifted to his. And when her gaze met his—she saw them.

Not bared, but visible—his "fangs"—just enough to make her breath catch. The glint of his fangs, pale and sharp beneath his upper lip, flashed for the briefest moment like moonlight skimming the edge of a blade.

Her eyes instinctively tracked it, narrowing as the truth caught in her throat. And then—she looked away, gaze dropping to the floor as if she could outrun the thought forming in her mind.

Too big...They're way too big..?Fangs? Not even close.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the bass of his voice.

"You don't have to let me in," he murmured, and she could see the faint gleam of his fangs when his lips parted slightly. It wasn't threatening, but it wasn't human, either. "But you're shaking, Y/N. You're tired. And for once... maybe you shouldn't be alone."

She didn't speak. But she didn't pull away either.

His touch lingered, not possessive, not insistent. Simply there. Simply real.

"Come with me," he said, so softly she almost didn't hear it. "Just to warm up. Just to talk."

But they both knew talking wasn't all he meant. Not with the heat stirring beneath his voice. Not with the way his pupils dilated as he looked at her mouth.

Not with the phantom hunger that passed through his gaze like a shadow.

And still—when he extended his hand—she took it.

No words passed between them as he guided her through the hushed corridors of the school, his fingers loosely laced with hers. The stone walls flickered with low torchlight, casting golden shadows that danced beside them. Behind them, the school was still falling asleep.

But not them.

Her fingers slipped into his, the heat of his palm unexpected—searing. He led her down the corridor in silence, their footsteps muffled against stone as they shuffled towards his room.

The morning shadows clung to the corners. The air was cooler now, but between them, something else simmered—unspoken, alive.

They didn't speak again untilthey reached the end of the hall. Adrian reached a heavy door and pushed it open with one hand, stepping aside as warm light spilt out into the corridor.

He waited.

She paused, her gaze searching his face—not for answers, but for hesitation. There was none. Only him, watching her with that same gentle hunger.

And so she stepped forward, crossing the threshold.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the morning in Auragon, at last, exhaled.

The door clicked shut behind them with a softness that didn't match the roar building quietly in their chests.