Chapitre 137: The wedding gift

Such loathing laces his words that I almost find myself taking a step back.

For someone supposedly lacking a heart, he shifts through emotions quicker than a drunkard drinks through beers. Then again, this  is  a centuries old vampire Prince we are talking about.

I smother a laugh.

"You hate your people that much, hmm? What a terror you are."

Soren bares his fangs a little, glittering with tints of red against the faint luminescence of the ghostly stars. Judging by the crimson tints in his eyes, I would hedge my bets my assessment has disturbed him somewhat.

He bats a hand dismissively through the air.

"I hate that I was them- and that I partially still am like them. That no matter what I do, I will always, somehow, find myself at the exact same place that I started- a bloodsucking monster who knows only terror and fear, that is what I am, even to you. And I hate it."