Vampire’s Special Blend (2)

It wasn’t a particularly romantic gesture.
Lorken’s upper and lower lips were pinched by your unromantic fingers into a duck’s beak.

You suddenly noticed that his cheeks, the hand that lifted your chin, and his entire body were all ice-cold.

You gave up on his mouth and instead started tearing at the collar in front of you.
The intricate neckline was ravaged by you, torn open a section.

Pale skin was exposed to the air.
You slipped your hands inside to press against his neck, making it look like you were choking him.

The comfortable coolness brought you a sliver of satisfaction, but it wasn’t enough.
You stood on tiptoe, rubbing your face against his chin, his cheek, instinctively seeking more.

The tip of your thumb landed on Lorken’s Adam’s apple.
Feeling it move, you responded by rubbing the cartilage with the pad of your finger.

You vaguely heard a voice speaking by your ear again.
You could no longer take it in, couldn’t even tell if you understood the words or not.

You felt your cheeks being held by a pair of cool hands.
The skin under your hands had been warmed by you.
You greedily continued to touch other places.
The buttons on his shirt were torn off by you.
Your hand lingered on a somewhat hard, strong waist.

So far, your level of perversion seemed to have surpassed Lorken’s.

This was a world where it was difficult to find a partner.
Except for humans.
Human lives were short but endlessly regenerating.

The oceans were occupied by merfolk and mutated creatures.
On land, elves and beastmen coexisted.

Dragons occupied high mountains or deep valleys as their lairs.
Vampires were a faction unto themselves.

These races or legendary creatures were powerful, beautiful, and possessed their own unique talents, including long lives.

But since some unknown time, as if cursed, most individuals, until the end of their long lives, could no longer wait for a partner they truly loved.

Since becoming immortal, Lorken had never cared about these changes.
He had never felt he needed a lover.

But the feeling at this moment was real.
It was his throat that was being choked, yet he felt a sense of attachment, finding it difficult to break free, unwilling to resist.

He closed his eyes, trying to understand everything that was intoxicating him at this moment.
The contrast between the cool and warm body temperatures, the magnetic pull of skin contact.

In the next second, the warmth was withdrawn.
Lorken opened his eyes and reached out to embrace you.
You couldn’t stay standing.
You followed his downward gaze and looked down together.
Your fishtail was back.

You were finally completely muddled by the heat.
Using your native tongue from when you were human, with a steely will, you managed to entrust a message to the figure in front of you before losing consciousness.

“Must…”
“Put… me… in… the… water!”

You absolutely did not want to become fish jerky.

Two bouts of unconsciousness finally alleviated your symptoms.
Aside from some weakness, there were no other discomforts.

It was the feeling of being enveloped in liquid.

Your brain had also recovered its ability to think.
You looked at your surroundings.
It was still the same exquisitely intricate architectural style, and you were in a luxurious indoor swimming pool.

The pool was filled with red liquid.
You subconsciously thought it was an outdoor pool and that the blood moon had not yet disappeared.
Upon closer inspection, you realized that large red gems and crystals were embedded in the inner walls, and even on the poolside, tinting the water red.

Memories flooded back.
You were surprised by your own unfamiliar behavior.
You wanted to blame it on the moon, but at certain moments, you had retained a sliver of rationality.

It wasn’t that you were embarrassed by the intimate actions, but you just felt a bit ashamed that your fragile, muddled state had been exposed.
Could it be that the power of the blood moon was to make everyone act like perverts?

You were desperate to shake off this embarrassment, racking your brains to remember something truly important that needed confirmation.

Before you passed out, you had spoken your last words in your native tongue, and the other person had answered you in your native tongue.

The last thing you heard was: “Okay.”

Did they really understand what you said, or was it just a coincidental similarity in pronunciation?

You sat up by the side of the pool.
The pool wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big enough for you to swim around in just a few flicks of your tail.
You swam a lap around the pool but saw no one and no other creatures.

“Excuse me, is anyone there?”

The voice you used for singing could easily bewitch an audience, but when you spoke, it was the opposite.
Your voice was like a clear spring flowing over stones, like a gentle rain soothing dry earth, completely non-aggressive.

“Good afternoon.”

It sounded like you had slept for at least one night.

As the polite reply sounded, a figure appeared on the shore in front of you.
This manner of appearing was not a speed that humans could possess, but you didn’t care about that.

“You really speak my language!?”

You looked at him with pleasant surprise.

“One of the ancient languages.
I happened to have studied it.”

“I am Lorken.
What is your name?”

Lorken sat down by the pool to continue the conversation with you.

“My name… I don’t remember.”

“But I used to be human, and now I’m a jiaoren.”
You had indeed lost some memories, you said honestly.
Both you and Lorken temporarily avoided mentioning what had happened that night.

It had been almost three months since you were awakened by your jiaoren pearl.
Before, you were learning to adapt to the language environment.
Now, the other person could chat with you fluently in your native tongue, and with his black hair, your sense of closeness increased tenfold.

Unlike your feelings when you met Adonis and Ewan, with Lorken, you wanted to take the initiative to get closer.

Time was long.
Lorken had studied a great deal of knowledge.
Language was just one of them.

But your race surprised him.
Language, as knowledge, could be passed down, but jiaoren were a race that only existed in books.

“Jiaoren?”

“I apologize, I thought you were a… special mermaid.”

Red was Lorken’s favorite color.
At this moment, you were lying on a pile of rubies, tilting your head to look at him.
All the red backgrounds became your foil.

Your hair looked softer, your skin looked fairer, and your eyes reflected only him.

Two sharp fangs peeked out from the corners of his mouth.

It was so interesting.
So far, the only intelligent creature you had met who was normal was Ewan.

This decorative style, this pale skin, this obvious color preference—you felt that Lorken was like a walking, talking vampire instruction manual straight out of a textbook.

“So, you’re a vampire?”

Whether he was human or vampire, it didn’t stop you from quickly placing a portion of trust in Lorken, treating him as someone you could truly confide in.

You told him everything that had happened to you, speaking more words than you had in the past three months combined.

In the end, you couldn’t stop yourself and spoke about the night of the blood moon.

Facing the unknown power of the blood moon, you didn’t care about saving face anymore.
You wanted to know how you got your legs, why you had an irrational reaction.

“The blood moon appears every year, but there is no regularity to its appearance.
Perhaps once a month or two, perhaps twice in a row after a few months’ interval.”

“When the blood moon appears, most races are not affected.
Some races will feel weak, and vampires’ power will become stronger.”

“Of course, there are also those empty-headed werewolves, who will completely lose their minds on that day.”

“I have never seen a jiaoren, but your fishtail and legs must be related to it.”

Lorken, in the process of educating you on common knowledge, also managed to belittle werewolves.

“Then what’s the reason for me being… not very rational?”

The probability of food poisoning seemed very low.

“It’s because your mating season has arrived.”

Lorken’s answer was met with your strong rebuttal.

You explained to him that you hadn’t established your own gender yet, and only after deciding would you have the concept of a mating season.

Although you would firmly choose the male gender in the future, under normal circumstances, you shouldn’t be affected now.

Perhaps it was that damn red moon.

“What about you, are you the same?”

Did vampires have such a thing as a mating season?