Chapter Text
“Where is he?”
Plants did not bother to dismount fully before asking. The horse’s breath steamed in the cold night air, hooves striking sparks from the stone courtyard of the Siegfried mansion. He had ridden hard, faster than he should have, Hina seated behind him with her hands locked tightly at his waist to steady herself.
Dmirea was already waiting at the entrance. Ian’s younger sister bowed quickly, though her eyes were tight with worry.
“Inside, Your Highness,” she said, stepping aside at once. “He refused to return to the palace. The wound… it drew too much attention.”
Plants gave a short nod and helped Hina down before handing the reins to a servant. “Stay close,” he told the maid-slash-healer without looking at her. “But do not enter unless I call.”
Hina swallowed and nodded.
None of the servants dared linger in the corridors they passed. The smell grew heavier with each step, saturated into the walls.
Plants instantly recognized it, having fed from the source for more than once.
Blood. Kalian's blood to be exact.
Pureblood blood carried weight. It did not simply linger in the air. It pressed against the senses, thick and intoxicating. For lesser vampires, it could break restraint in seconds. Even nobles struggled if exposed too long.
When vampires were injured, their bodies healed fast. Cuts closed within moments. Bones reset. Flesh knitted as long as they had fed recently. Purebloods healed fastest of all. Their blood itself carried power. Feed them once and a wound would seal before the blood even dried.
But when a wound was severe, when blood loss was heavy, instinct took control.
A starving vampire could fall into bloodlust. The body would demand blood with single-minded focus. The mind would narrow. Friend and foe blurred. Survival came first.
Purebloods were worse.
Their healing was stronger, but so was their instinct. When pushed close to the edge, they became dangerous even to those they cared for.
“We have done what we can,” Dmirea said quietly. “He told us to call for you, then…” She hesitated. “No one dares approach.”
Plants did not slow, only giving the barest nod to show he was listening.
She stopped before a closed door at the far end of the hall. “He’s here.”
Plants did not hesitate. He pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it behind him with a quiet click.
The room was dark, curtains drawn. To a human, it would have been pitch black. To him, it was clear enough.
Kalian sat upright on the bed.
That alone made Plants frown. The last message had said he was still unconscious.
The third prince’s torso was wrapped in bandages, but the cloth was dark and soaked through in places. His head was slightly lowered, hair falling over his eyes. He looked still.
“Little brother,” Plants called.
He stepped forward, measured and calm. One step. Two.
When he was an arm’s length away, Kalian’s head lifted.
His eyes glowed.
Not red.
Darker. Nearly black.
There was no recognition in them.
The lunge came without warning.
Kalian moved with frightening speed, crossing the distance in a blink. Plants twisted sharply to the side, coat flaring as claws sliced through the space where his shoulder had been. The mattress dipped violently under the force of Kalian’s push as he landed and spun around.
He clicked his tongue. “Troublesome.”
The raven did not answer. He crouched low, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, head slightly tilted like a hunting animal tracking movement. His breathing was uneven. Blood stained the bandages at his ribs, spreading wider as his muscles flexed.
Plants shifted left, slow and deliberate.
Kalian followed.
The room was not large, but it was enough.
The next attack came from below. The third prince dropped suddenly, sweeping low in a fast arc meant to take Plants’ legs out from under him. Plants reacted instantly, pushing off the floor and vaulting backward onto the edge of the bed. Wood cracked under the impact.
Kalian was already moving again.
He sprang upward, claws reaching for Plants’ throat. Plants leaned back just enough that the strike brushed past his collar instead of tearing into flesh. Fabric ripped. The force of the near hit sent them both off balance.
They landed on opposite sides of the bed.
Plants’ eyes narrowed.
Red spread further across Kalian’s torso. The fresh movement had opened the wound again. Blood seeped steadily through the bandages and dripped down his side, hitting the floor in soft taps.
“Stop moving,” Plants said sharply.
No response.
Kalian’s breathing was uneven. His gaze locked onto Plants’ throat, tracking every shift of muscle beneath skin.
When vampires lost too much blood, their minds dimmed under instinct. The body screamed for survival. Feed, heal, and live.
Kalian had not fed enough to recover.
And the bond between them pulsed.
Plants felt it clearly now. A tug beneath his ribs. A faint ache that was not his own. Through the blood they had shared before, a link had formed. Not spoken of. Not named. But there.
He could feel Kalian’s hunger.
Even in this state, Kalian’s gaze did not wander toward the door. He did not rush blindly at the scent in the hall. His focus remained on Plants.
Bond partner blood was different.
It called louder. Tasted richer. Satisfied deeper.
Plants circled around the bed, keeping the heavy frame between them. His steps were precise, controlled. Kalian mirrored him from the other side, head lowered, fingers flexing as if testing the air.
Each time Plants shifted direction suddenly, Kalian reacted with raw instinct. Once, he vaulted over the bed entirely, landing in front of Plants with enough force to splinter one of the wooden posts. Plants pivoted at the last second, sliding under his outstretched arm and coming up behind him.
“Wake up,” Plants ordered.
Kalian twisted with unnatural speed, backhand striking toward Plants’ ribs. The blow grazed him, enough to sting but not enough to injure. Plants retreated a step, reassessing.
The room felt smaller now.
Kalian lunged again, this time feinting high before dropping low and driving forward with his shoulder. Plants barely managed to brace, hands catching Kalian’s wrist and collar as the impact drove them both backward into the wall. Plaster cracked.
For a heartbeat, their faces were inches apart.
There was nothing human in Kalian’s expression.
Plants shoved him away.
Kalian stumbled two steps before regaining his footing, breathing harsher now. Blood dripped freely down his abdomen. His wound was worsening by the second.
Plants’ frown deepened.
If he continued to dodge, Kalian would tear himself apart before regaining sense.
“Fine,” the second muttered.
He shifted direction deliberately, stepping closer to the bed instead of away from it. Kalian watched, pupils blown wide, tracking every movement.
He stopped just beside the bed and raised his hand slowly.
Without breaking eye contact, the blunette let his nails extend. The air shifted slightly as sharp claws formed at his fingertips.
He dragged one lightly across his own neck.
The cut was shallow but deliberate.
Blood welled up at once, sliding down pale skin
Kalian’s entire body went still.
Then he growled.
Low. Rough. Hungry.
He leapt.
Plants did not evade this time.
The impact sent them both crashing onto the bed. The frame groaned under their combined weight. Kalian’s hands pinned Plants’ shoulders down, claws biting into fabric as he dove straight for the exposed throat.
Fangs sank into his neck without hesitation.
Plants hissed through his teeth, pain sharp and immediate.
“Rude,” he muttered, gripping Kalian’s back to steady him. “You could at least pretend to remember your manners.”
Kalian could not hear him.
He drank desperately. Messily.
There was no elegance in it. No careful control. He pulled greedily, fangs digging deeper as if afraid the source would vanish. The sound of swallowing filled the room.
Plants’ fingers tightened in Kalian’s hair.
“This is repayment,” he said under his breath. “For last time.”
His voice softened despite the sting spreading through his neck.
Kalian shifted, pressing closer as he fed. The wound in his side brushed against Plants’ torso, warm and wet. Plants winced again, both from pain and from the sheer strength in Kalian’s grip.
“You’re tearing,” the older scolded faintly, though he tilted his head slightly, giving better access to his wounded sibling.
Kalian drank like a starved beast, pulling mouthful after mouthful. The bond thrummed between them. The blunette felt it distinctly now. The way Kalian’s body responded. The way the wound on his torso began knitting faster as blood flowed into him.
Pureblood regeneration surged when fed. Muscles reformed. Torn flesh drew together.
But the demand did not ease.
Plants’ vision wavered further.
“Kalian,” he tried again.
No answer.
His strength was already draining. He had not prepared for this level of consumption.
“That’s enough,” he murmured.
Still nothing.
The grip on his shoulders tightened instead.
Blood soaked into the sheets beneath them.
Plants swore under his breath.
He had come alone. He had not called for guards. Not that any of them would have survived stepping inside.
He tried to lift a hand to push Kalian away.
His arm felt heavy.
His vision blurred at the edges.
“Stop,” he said more firmly, though it came out softer than intended.
Kalian drank on.
Darkness crept slowly inward from the corners of his sight. The ceiling above seemed distant now, as though he were looking at it through water.
He tried once more to gather strength, fingers reaching up to grip Kalian’s shoulder.
“You… overdid it,” he murmured.
His hand barely brushed the fabric before slowly fell against the mattress.
“Little brother…”
The room dimmed further.
The last thing he felt was the continued pull at his neck and the weight of his brother pressing him down.
Then the darkness took him.