My Blood Legacy: Reincarnated as a Vampire

Dante's room was modest, illuminated by a warm glow from the steady fireplace at the back. The air carried a soft, comforting heat that contrasted sharply with the tension between the two of them. Voralith sat on the edge of the bed, her golden eyes locked on Dante, who stood before her with an intensity that seemed to pierce her very being. It was the first time she found herself in such a situation, and though she was undeniably nervous, she held her composure firmly.

"You know this isn't a trivial matter," Voralith murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Drinking a dragon's blood… even for you, it's dangerous."

Dante gave a small, mischievous smile, one that hinted at his inner resolve. He had already weighed the risks, but there were no other options. "You know I wouldn't do something this risky without a plan. Your blood is the only thing that can help me now. After all, to the universe, I'm practically your son, since your power was used to create this body. Besides, you trust me, don't you?"

She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes met his, searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe strength. Finally, she nodded slowly. "I trust you. But I can't promise what might happen. I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself if you take too much."

He stepped closer, kneeling before her, his hands firm yet gentle as they clasped hers. "Then we'll find out together. Besides, I'll limit the concentration—I need to awaken Inside the Inferno. If I do it here, I can't predict what might happen." His voice was a low murmur, but it carried undeniable weight.

Voralith closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, a new vulnerability shone within their golden depths, her defenses melting away completely. Without another word, she tilted her head to the side, exposing her pale, marble-like skin where the steady pulse of her blood seemed to echo like a hidden promise.

Dante reached out, his fingers brushing against her neck with a delicate touch. His hands were cold against her warm skin, and she shivered lightly beneath his touch. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice as soft as his touch.

A faint, teasing smile curved her lips. "You don't usually ask for permission, Dante."

He didn't reply. Instead, he leaned in, his lips grazing her skin lightly before pressing more firmly, planting soft kisses along her neck that made Voralith's body tense and ignite with a burning anticipation.

His fangs sank into her skin slowly, savoring every second, every sensation.

"Ahhnn..." Voralith gasped, the sound escaping her lips like a suppressed moan, a blend of surprise and something far more intimate. Her hands instinctively clutched at his shoulders.

The blood flowed, hot and rich, a stream of power and life that bonded them in a way that transcended the physical. Dante closed his eyes, the unique taste of draconic blood filling him, its primal force coursing through him. It was sustenance, yes, but more than that, it was a merging of their essences, resonating deep within his soul.

"Hmmm," Voralith moaned softly, almost a sigh, as warmth spread through her body. Each draw of her blood sent shivers racing down her spine, as though he were touching something profound within her, something she hadn't even known existed. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she tilted her head further, surrendering completely.

"This is… more intense than I expected," she murmured, her voice uneven. "You're going… too deep."

Dante looked up at her without breaking the flow, his eyes glowing with a supernatural red hue. In that moment, he seemed more a force of nature than a man, and Voralith couldn't help but feel an overwhelming mix of awe and desire. She couldn't tell where pleasure ended and vulnerability began; it all blended into a singular, consuming sensation.

I need to hold myself together… Voralith thought, though her mind was a whirlwind. Her thoughts faded into white noise as those firm hands anchored her so securely.

"You're stronger than you think," Dante murmured against her skin, his voice low and reverent. "And that's what makes you perfect."

She laughed softly, the sound short but undeniably sweet. "Flirting while drinking my blood... typical of you. Are you aiming for something more?" she teased, trying to push her thoughts away with conversation, though it wasn't working.

Before she could say more, he shifted slightly, his teeth grazing a more sensitive spot, and she—

"AHHHHNNNN!!" she cried out, her voice echoing through the room. Her eyes were now half-lidded, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "You're... taking advantage of this, aren't you?" she accused, but her voice lacked any real conviction.

"I'm just enjoying the moment. After all, I've waited thousands of years for this. Do you remember how difficult and conservative you used to be?" he countered, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. A drop of blood trailed down his lower lip, which he licked away slowly, a gesture that made Voralith swallow hard.

"Stop teasing me like that… I won't be able to hold back…" she whispered, her voice barely audible, but a playful smile danced on her lips.

"Sometimes it seems you forget... I'm your husband," he replied, his tone both teasing and firm. He leaned forward again, but this time, he didn't go for her neck. Instead, he took her wrist, lifting her hand with an almost reverent care.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

His lips found the delicate skin there, and he bit again, sending another wave of sensations coursing through her.

"Mmnnn!" Voralith moaned again, this time rougher, her head falling back as she gave in completely to the moment. The world around them seemed to shrink until nothing else existed but the heat, the blood, and the growing bond between them.

Why does this feel so good?! I'm not even a vampire! she thought as her vision blurred.

Every second felt like an eternity and, at the same time, a fleeting instant. When Dante finally pulled back, silence enveloped the room, heavy and laden with unspoken meaning. He looked at Voralith, his eyes now returning to a more natural hue but still glowing with intensity.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her eyes met his, and she smiled—a soft expression that carried something deeper than words could convey. "I'm fine. Just... give me a moment."

Dante nodded, sitting beside her on the bed. He reached out, absently twisting a strand of her golden hair between his fingers. "You're... quite the pervert, Voralith."

"Look who's talking..." she laughed, a tired but satisfied sound. "And you're very good at making someone completely lose their mind."

"Wasn't that the point? Don't tell me you expect me to stop at just drinking your blood," he said with a sly grin.

Voralith looked at him, her eyes glinting with something indefinable. "Pervert."

He only smiled, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. "And you're absolutely shameless."

For a moment, Dante observed her, his smile softening into something deeper, more intense. "Well, let's move on to the main course," he said.

Without another word, he scooped her up from the mattress in one swift motion, holding her in his arms with an ease that made Voralith gasp.

"Dante, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice low and almost hoarse.

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he carried her to the center of the bed, laying her down gently among the sheets. His hands began to glide over the fabric of her clothing, his fingers moving with a deliberate, calculated calm, almost as if he were unraveling a precious secret.

"You are very beautiful, but... I'm curious, you know?" he murmured, his voice low yet charged with intensity. "I want to see every part of you, every fragment of your existence..."

As he spoke, his hands found the fastenings of her clothing, undoing them one by one. The soft sound of fabric sliding against her skin filled the room, mingling with the crackle of the fireplace in the background. Voralith felt every motion like an electric current, the air around them growing heavier, more charged.

"Dante…" she began, but her voice faded into a sigh as he leaned down, his lips brushing the curve of her neck, right where his fangs had been moments before.

Dante paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over Voralith with a silent intensity. Her clothing, piece by piece, had been removed, leaving her bare under the soft light streaming through the window and the faint glow of the fireplace. Her body, sculpted and marked with a unique beauty, was a perfect fusion of strength and grace.

Every curve, every line seemed to tell a story, the contours of her well-defined muscles a testament to her power. Dante looked at her as though she were a masterpiece, his breathing heavy and controlled, though not without effort.

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Voralith, still lying among the sheets, felt the weight of his gaze. It wasn't just desire—it was something deeper, something reverent, as though he were committing every detail to memory. Despite her fearless nature, she felt heat rise to her face, her cheeks tinged with a rare shade of crimson.

"You are…" Dante began but hesitated, as though words were insufficient to express what he felt. "Magnificent."

She let out a small smile, though there was a flicker of nervousness in her eyes. "You look at me as if I'm made of stars, not flesh and blood."

His hands continued to explore, firm yet respectful, tracing the curve of her arm until they reached her waist. He pulled her slightly closer, the warmth of his body radiating against hers. Voralith closed her eyes for a moment, her senses heightened by every touch, every gesture.

"Dante… I…" She started to speak but stopped. She considered pushing him away, but in her mind… 'To hell with it…'

"Make me yours... for real," she whispered, covering her face with her arm, her voice laced with a mix of vulnerability and resolve.