Kapitel 8: Chapter 8 - I Want You I Need You
Morganna seethed with rage, her fury boiling over as she struggled to lash out, to unleash her wrath. But this cursed restraint was holding her back, immobilizing her.
She tried to break free, but her efforts were in vain.
She glared at the one who had summoned her—a low-level human, weak and pitiful. How could such a miserable creature dare to call her? And to make matters worse, because of his pathetic level, Morganna herself had been forced to drop in power, losing much of what made her formidable.
She growled, still thrashing and rebelling, her eyes fixed on the foolish man. What was he doing? How could he have managed to summon Lords from another world at such an early phase? And on this barren, dry island of all places!
Morganna kept fighting against the restraints, her frustration mounting.
What were they doing over there? And why did it smell so good?
Roar!
She could feel her strength starting to fade. After spending an entire day under the harsh sunlight, her energy was dwindling. The summoning penalty had left her weak, a mere shadow of her usual self. And it was all because of that stupid human!
Wait, what is that aroma? It smells delicious. Meat? But no, she was hungry for something else. She needed blood. Rich, exquisite blood, something that would nourish her, restore her strength, and accelerate her recovery.
And there he was—the foolish human—walking closer, with that pathetic, miserable expression on his face. She glared at him with burning eyes, hatred burning through her like wildfire. She wanted to kill him, drain him dry, and then rip apart everyone else on this island.
"Hey, I have food. You must be hungry, right?" the little, stupid human said in a disgustingly casual tone.
I will kill you. Release me, you idiot, you— Morganna raged internally. But all that escaped her lips was, "Hamu, hemu, hamu, hamu hamu."
The man smiled.
What was that smile? Was it the grin of someone about to die?
"Listen, Ms. Morganna," he continued, "I have no intention of making you a slave. No, I understand you were someone important back where you came from. But fate has brought us together here, so it's better if we get along and work together. What do you think?"
Stop this nonsense, you pathetic piece of trash! Morganna screamed in her mind. I don't need a weakling like you as my leader. You're worthless! I refuse to be a subordinate! I am a queen! I am powerful!
But all she could do was glare, her lips twitching with words she couldn't voice, as the restraints held her silent and still.
Urgh! Morganna's body felt weaker by the minute, her strength slipping away. She needed blood, and she needed it now. If she didn't get some soon, she might lose consciousness, and the thought of that humiliation burned inside her.
She was used to living with a steady supply of high-quality blood, provided by her loyal subordinates. But here? She had nothing. And she hated it.
Then, to her shock, Atlas did something completely unexpected. He stepped closer, rolled up his sleeve, and exposed his wrist. With casual motion, he took out a knife and cut his skin just enough to draw blood. Crimson droplets welled up, trailing down his arm.
"I know you need blood. Take it," he said. "But don't take too much—I need it to stay alive," he added.
It made Morganna want to scream. This little piece of trash!
Without breaking eye contact, he extended his bleeding wrist toward her lips, as if he was trying to soothe a wild animal.
"Here," he said softly. "It should help."
Morganna's eyes widened, a mix of rage and confusion swirling within them. Her mind reeled. Was this human actually attempting to claim her? Damn it! Stop it! You trash!
In the vampire world, this kind of gesture was deeply symbolic. Offering one's blood so openly was an act of profound intimacy, a gesture reserved for strong, unbreakable bonds—either between lovers or a master and their most devoted servant. To do so without hesitation, without fear, was almost like a declaration, a way to forge a personal and binding connection.
From her perspective, Atlas's gesture felt like a mix of arrogance and presumption. It was as if he was trying to assert some kind of claim over her, to bind her to him.
Every instinct in her told her to lash out, to tear into him, to drain him dry and show him what happened to those who dared to treat her with such familiarity.
Atlas's wrist brushed against her lips, and the warmth of it irritated her. She wanted to push it away, to spit in his face. But then, the first drop of blood touched her lips, sliding into her mouth.
What is this?! What is this?!
The taste was unlike anything she had ever experienced—so sweet, so rich, so full of energy. It wasn't just nourishment; it was like a drug, intoxicating her senses, calming the raging storm inside her. Her body trembled, her nerves buzzing with a sensation that was almost euphoric.
In an instant, the fury and hatred that had consumed her melted away, replaced by a wave of warmth, a surge of vitality that made her feel alive, reborn, with just a single gulp.
The blood flowed, filling her body with energy, like a spark that set every nerve on fire.
This is... what is this... I want more! I want it from his neck, where it's stronger, richer.
But if she did that, it would be the same as admitting she was submitting to him, that she had willingly given herself over to his control.
No! I won't! she screamed internally. But the blood was too irresistible—too sweet, too fragrant, too fresh, too electrifying. She needed more, from a place where the taste was even richer, even more intoxicating.
Her eyes glowed a vivid red, and in that instant, the restraints on her body shattered. She could move again, and she didn't waste a moment.
"I want you!" she growled.
With a sudden, blinding speed, she lunged at Atlas. Her left arm slid around his back, gripping him tightly, while her right hand grasped the back of his head, pulling him closer. Her fangs extended, and without hesitation, she sank them into the side of his neck.
"I want more!" she hissed, her voice muffled against his skin as she drank deeply.
"My Lord!" the other trash shouted in shock.
But Morganna didn't care. She was lost in the sensation, the taste of his blood filling her senses, overwhelming her. It wasn't just sustenance—she craved it, she craved him, more than anything she had ever wanted or needed before.
***
(Author's Note:)
So, Atlas went from "casual diplomacy" to "intense vampire bonding ritual" in about ten seconds flat.
I mean, who knew bloodletting could be so... tender? 😅
I bet Edrik and Karian were just standing there like, "Do we… intervene? Or… just… let this happen?" 🫣
I have a feeling Morganna's about to cause a whole lot of trouble, and I am here for it!
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein