Page 53 of BLOOD LUST | YANDERE VAMPIRES

Still filled with the heat of their mingling and the scent of rough contact.

Y/N stirred beneath the covers, limbs tangled in sweat-damp sheets, skin flushed and aching in places she hadn't known could ache.

For a long, dazed moment, she didn't remember where she was. The pillow beneath her smelled like smoke and citrus. Her thighs were sore. Her lips—

Her lips were swollen.

And then she remembered everything.

Adrian's mouth on her throat.

His voice, low and reverent—mine.

The way her body had moved with his like it had always known him.

She blinked slowly. Turned over.

The room was cloaked in amber light, thin morning sun leaking in between the velvet curtains, casting long shadows across the sheets tangled around her bare legs.

For a few suspended seconds, her body floated in a fog of heat and soreness, her skin still tingling where his mouth had been, thighs aching in a way that made her heart twist strangely.

There was a warmth pressed into the mattress beside her — the ghost of his body, now vanished. Her fingers curled against the cotton as her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her head to the space he'd occupied.

Empty.

Still warm, yes. But already fading.

Her heart twisted. Just a little.

Y/N sat up, letting the sheet pool around her waist, bare skin kissed by the golden spill of early morning light filtering through the windows.

The room was quiet. Still. No sound of footsteps.

No soft hum of Adrian in the bathroom.

No clothes strewn across the floor from where he might've changed.

She reached for her underwear. Found nothing.

A tiny laugh escaped her lips—dry and humourless.

Of course.

Of course he was gone.

The ache that bloomed in her chest was soft and familiar, nothing like the raw, jagged grief from the night before. This was worse.

This was quiet. Slow. A low burn that didn't scream so much as it whispered: of course he left.

Because why would he stay?

Last night had been desperation dressed as intimacy. Passion tangled in grief.

Her heart still bore the sting of Calixto's rejection, her voice still echoed with the stupid hope that she'd held out to someone who couldn't bear to hold her in return.

And yet...

A piece of her had hoped.

She rose slowly, wincing at the soreness between her thighs, and scanned the room for her clothes.

She found her underwear draped across the arm of the chair, her skirt on the floor, her shirt—now wrinkled—caught on the bedpost.

As she dressed, she caught herself in the mirror.

Her neck bore faint red marks—his mouth. Her inner thighs were brushed with bruises in the shape of fingers. There was a shadow beneath her eyes she didn't remember putting there.

She looked like someone else.

And the strangest part of it all—perhaps she felt entirely like herself for the first time in weeks. Unfiltered. Laid bare. Wanted.

She didn't know which scared her more.

? ★ ?

The hallway outside Adrian's room was quiet. Not even a hint of movement in the air. It was too early, or maybe the silence was a deliberate warning.

Y/N moved quickly, trying to keep her steps light, her expression unreadable in case anyone passed.

She moved quickly, keeping her head down, eyes fixed on the patterned rug beneath her feet as she descended the back staircase that led toward the dorm's common floor.

She nearly made it.

But just as she turned the final corridor leading toward the back stairs—

"Didn't think you were an early riser."

Y/N turned too fast. Her stomach dropped before she even saw who it was.

Leaning against the wall in that casual, golden-boy way of his, as if he'd just happened to be there.

His hands were tucked into his pockets, one foot crossed over the other, and a lazy, unreadable smile curved his lips.

"Morning Y/N," he said.

Y/N froze.

"Hi," she replied, her voice quieter than she meant.

He let the silence hang for a beat longer than necessary, his golden eyes sweeping over her—head to toe. Not in a way that lingered on her curves, but in the way a predator assesses damage.

He just tilted his head a little to the side.

Marcus's smile didn't falter, but it changed. Slightly. Sharpened. The warmth behind it cooled just a degree.

Like the mask he wore every day slipped—just a fraction.

"Hm."

His eyes roamed over her face. Then lower. Lingering. "You smell different."

The words were innocent. Casual.

But her blood turned cold. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "I—I was just—out. Walking. Couldn't sleep."

He pushed off the wall, his movements as casual as ever, but his gaze never wavered.

He approached slowly, hands still in his pockets, eyes never leaving hers. When he stopped in front of her, they were too close. Too close.

"You sure about that?" he asked, voice low. "Because it's not just sweat and fresh air on you, Y/N."

Y/N's pulse kicked.

"Marcus—"

He leaned in, right at the base of her jaw. Right where Adrian had pressed his mouth last night—kissed her, bit her, whispered that word like a curse.

Marcus inhaled again. Slower this time.

And when he pulled back—there was something new in his eyes.

Still golden. Still charming. But colder. "Interesting," he murmured.

Y/N took a step back.

"Don't," she said, trying to steady her voice. "Don't make this into something it's not."

Maybe she was nervous, she didn't want anyone to know. Or maybe he really does know, which scared her more.

"I'm not making anything," he replied smoothly. "But someone else did."

Her throat tightened.

"What—what do you mean?"

He looked her over again, slower this time, like he was cataloguing something. Like he wasn't seeing her—he was sensing her.

Then as she blinked his smile had brightened again—sunny, charming, just like always. "Sorry Y/N it was just a joke—I think I got you too serious haha."

She stared at him. Eyes wide, heart racing, the sting of confusion and shame knotting behind her ribs.

"New perfume, right? It smells great."

But Marcus just looked back at her with that same practiced warmth—now clearly an illusion. One that shimmered like a mask slipping from his face.

Her mouth parted but no sound escaped.

"Breakfast's in fifteen. See you later, Y/N!" And just like that, he walked past her.

Y/N there in a daze not sure of what to make of that interaction, her eyes followed as he turned to give her a final smile while waving her off.

? ★ ?

He wandered through the halls of the boys' dorm, fist slamming against doors he passed through.

"Next time," he muttered low enough just for himself to hear, "you might want to wash the fucking scent off first.."