Chapter 569: I Peed Myself!

Cassius held Carmela close, one arm wrapped securely around her bare back, the other cradling the nape of her neck as her trembling body slowly settled against him.

He could feel the frantic heat that had consumed her earlier finally ebbing away.

Her skin cooling from feverish to merely warm.

The violent shudders softening into faint aftershocks.

Her ragged breathing evening out into slow, exhausted sighs against his shoulder.

It worked.

The release had finally broken the grip of the vitality overload. She was calming down.

He couldn’t help the soft, incredulous smile that tugged at his lips as he looked down at the top of her white-haired head.

Who would have thought?

The first time they met, she had lunged straight for his throat, fangs bared, murder in her crimson eyes—ready to end him without a second thought.

And now here she was: half-naked in his lap, breasts pressed to his chest, arms loosely draped around him, clinging like a tired child after a nightmare. So vulnerable. So adorable.

He felt an unexpected swell of protectiveness rise in his chest. He wanted to shield this version of her, keep her safe from the world that had clearly wounded her pride so deeply.

But all of a sudden, just as his heart was softening—Carmela moved.

She jerked back with a suddenness that caught him entirely off guard and the soft, vulnerable expression was gone—replaced instantly by a mask of intense humiliation and fierce determination.

She looked as if she had just endured the ultimate disgrace.

And before Cassius could ask what was wrong, her hand flashed to the small dagger still sheathed at her waist—the one she always wore, even now.

In a single fluid motion she drew it, the silver blade glinting as she raised it high.

Seeing this, Cassius’s heart slammed into his throat.

’She’s going to kill me.’

’She came to her senses, realized what just happened, and now she’s going to end the man who made her feel this way.’

’Panic surged through him.’

"Hold on—Carmela, this is too much!" He blurted, hands already rising to block her. "Using me and then disposing of me the next second?"

"Come on, even for you that’s cold—"

But she didn’t listen as her arm shot downward in a blur and in response, he lunged to catch her wrist, fully expecting the cold bite of steel in his neck.

But to his absolute shock, the blade didn’t head for him at all.

Instead, her hand swung inward toward her own neck.

She was actually trying to drive the steel into her own jugular!

Cassius’s brain short-circuited.

"What the hell are you doing, Carmela?!"

He shouted, grabbing her wrist with both hands and yanking it away from her neck just in time.

The blade wavered inches from her skin.

But even then she fought him with surprising strength even in her exhausted state—tears glistening in her eyes, face twisted with anguish and fury.

"Let me go, Cassius!" She cried, voice cracking. "Let me go! I want to die—let me die right now!"

"No—absolutely not!" He wrenched the dagger free, tossing it far across the room where it clattered against the wall.

Then he seized both of her wrists, holding them tightly but carefully, staring at her in complete shock and disbelief.

"What the hell are you doing, Carmela?" He repeated, voice cracking with disbelief. "It’s one thing to stab me after...after everything that just happened. I’d almost understand that."

"But yourself?!"

"What’s wrong with you?!"

He cupped her face gently, searching her eyes.

"I mean, I get it—this is all new for you. You’re proud. Fiercely independent. You’ve probably never let another man touch you like this ever. I understand that."

"But this...this had to be done. The vitality was killing you.

"But what I want to know was it really so unbearable that you’d take your own life over it?"

"Are you really so proud you can’t live through one moment of weakness?"

And he expected her to agree and fight back.

But to his surprise that didn’t happen.

Carmela instead shook her head hard, tears spilling over now, sliding down her flushed cheeks.

She was trembling again, but not from pleasure this time.

"I-It’s not that." She whispered, voice small and broken. "It’s not that at all."

"Then what?" Cassius asked, gentler now, thumbs brushing the tears from her skin. "Tell me."

She bit her lip so hard he thought she might draw blood. Her gaze dropped, unable to meet his.

"It’s...It’s because I..."

She swallowed, shame radiating off her in waves before finally saying,

"I peed myself."

"...?"

Cassius blinked wondering if he heard wrong.

"I-I actually peed myself in front of you." She continued, voice barely audible, eyes fixed on his chest. "Like some child. A full-grown woman—a warrior and I lost control so completely that I...I wet myself on your lap."

"I can’t...I can’t live with that."

She then reached blindly for where the dagger had fallen, fingers scrabbling.

"Give it back, Cassius! Please. I need to end this. I want to die right now!"

But Cassius didn’t let her go and instead stared at her, utterly baffled, mouth opening and closing once before words finally came.

"Hold on—hold the fuck on." He said slowly, gripping her wrists again to stop her reaching. "What are you talking about? When did you pee yourself?"

Carmela froze, finally lifting her eyes to his—confused now beneath the mortification.

"...Just now." She mumbled. "When...When everything happened. When I couldn’t hold it in. You felt it, didn’t you? All that wetness..."

Cassius’s expression shifted—confusion giving way to dawning realization and then to utter disbelief.

He then glanced down at his lap, at the dark, damp patch spreading across his trousers where she’d been straddling him, then back up at her tear-streaked face.

And he started to laugh.

He laughed so hard that Carmela’s breasts were bouncing around from the vibration.

"Oh my god!" He wheezed, clutching his sides. "This is the best. This is the absolute best. I can’t believe I’m actually hearing this."

He wiped at his eyes, still howling.

"She actually thinks that’s pee. She actually thinks that’s pee! Oh my god, I can’t—I can’t—I’m gonna cry. I’m actually gonna cry right now. It’s so funny!"

And seeing him laugh at her, Carmela’s face burned hotter than ever.

Humiliation and fury crashed together in her chest. She lunged forward, grabbing fistfuls of his collar and shaking him hard enough to rattle his teeth.

"Cassius!" She snarled, voice trembling with anger and unshed tears. "I was literally trying to kill myself over what I thought I’d done! And here you are laughing at me! You even had the nerve to stop me—and now you’re laughing? How could you?!"

Cassius tried—really tried—to rein it in. He shook his head quickly, hands raised in surrender, but the laughter kept bubbling up.

"No—no, wait, you’ve got it all wrong!" He managed between gasps. "I’m not laughing because you peed yourself. I’m laughing because you think you did—and you didn’t! At all!"

Carmela froze, grip loosening slightly on his collar.

"...What?" She whispered, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

She tightened her hold again, shaking him once more.

"Stop lying to me, Cassius. I’m not a child. I know what it feels like to—to lose control like that. And look—"

She glanced down at the dark, glistening stain spreading across his trousers, then at the soaked fabric of her own pants clinging to her thighs.

"It’s obvious. It’s right there. You’re drenched."

And proving her fault, she looked like she was on the verge of sobbing again, her pride utterly shattered.

Seeing this, Cassius finally sobered enough to cup her flushed cheeks gently in both hands, thumbs stroking away the wet tracks.

"Trust me, Carmela." He said, voice soft but earnest, eyes steady on hers. "I swear on everything—I am not lying."

"You didn’t pee yourself. You just...squirted."

She blinked, confusion overtaking the anger.

"...Squirted?" She repeated slowly, as if the word were foreign. "What’s that?"

Cassius let out another helpless chuckle, shaking his head in pure wonder.

"Oh my god, you really are innocent when it comes to this stuff. Zero experience, huh?"

Carmela glared, fangs peeking in warning.

"Okay, okay—serious explanation time."

He raised his hands again placatingly before going on to explain,

"Squirting—also called female ejaculation, ’opening the faucet,’ ’cumming really hard,’ whatever you want to call it—is a completely normal thing women do when they’re really aroused and stimulated the right way."

"Every woman can do it if the conditions are right. It’s a clear-ish fluid that comes out in...well, volume, sometimes. It’s not urine. It’s a different thing entirely produced by different glands."

Carmela stared at him, mouth slightly open, shock written across her face as though he’d just explained the secrets of the universe.

"No." She said faintly, shaking her head. "No, you’re definitely making this up so I won’t kill myself. I’m not stupid enough to believe that."

Cassius snorted.

"I promise you, it would be the most ridiculous lie in history if I were. If you don’t believe me, go read any anatomy book—human or vampire physiology."

"Or better yet, ask any of the women in this house tomorrow. They’ll tell you the same thing."

He gestured vaguely around them.

"Or, quickest proof: smell the air right now. Does it smell like piss to you?"

Carmela hesitated, cheeks still flaming, but finally took a cautious sniff.

Her brows furrowed.

"It’s not the same." She admitted reluctantly. "It’s...strange. Kind of sour-sweet? But definitely not urine."

"Exactly." Cassius said triumphantly. "And if you’re still skeptical—"

He nodded toward her lap.

"Just dip your fingers in there, feel the texture. It’s thicker, slicker. Totally different from pee."

Carmela’s eyes flashed with outrage.

"You just want me to do something filthy for your own amusement!"

"I swear I’m not." He laughed lightly. "Just trust me this once."

She glared murderously for another long second...then huffed, turning her head sharply.

"Look away."

Cassius obediently turned his face to the side, hands raised in innocence.

He heard the rustle of fabric, the soft sound of her hand moving beneath her skirt.

A moment later, a quiet, surprised gasp.

He glanced back carefully.

Carmela was staring at her glistening fingers, rubbing the thick, slippery fluid between thumb and forefinger in obvious disbelief.

"It’s...not pee." She whispered, almost to herself. "It’s completely different."

"Told you." Cassius said gently, smiling. "That’s arousal fluid—sometimes called ’love juice.’ It’s what happens when a woman climaxes hard enough. And that release? That’s exactly why the burning vitality finally calmed down inside you."

Realization dawned fully across her face.

"I...see." She murmured, still staring at her fingers. "I never knew anything like this existed."

And seeing her look so confused, he wanted to tease her so he asked,

"Did your mother never teach you? It’s usually a talk mothers have with their daughters isn’t it. Or was your mother as innocent as you and thought it was pee her whole life."

But even though he said this as a joke for some reason the light in Carmela’s eyes dimmed, replaced by a deep, hollow sadness.

"My mother was killed before I reached an age where we could have such talks." She said quietly.

"I’ve had to learn everything about being a woman on my own...or not at all."

Cassius’s smile plummeted. A pang of guilt hit him in the chest.

"I...I’m sorry. I didn’t know." He felt a sudden weight in his heart, wondering how her mother died as she mentioned that she was ’killed’ and not ’passed on.’

But the moment of solemnity was short-lived.

Realizing that even if it wasn’t pee, she was still covered in a ’strange liquid’ in front of a man, Carmela’s face exploded into a fresh, even deeper blush.

The humiliation of the ’love juice’ was almost as bad as the original thought.

"The bathroom! Where is the bathroom?!" She cried out in a hurry, scrambling off his lap. "I want to wash all of this disgusting stuff off right now!"

Cassius pointed toward a door on the right.

"Over there. Towels are on the rack, hot water’s instant."

Carmela bolted, nearly tripping in her haste, and disappeared behind the door, slamming it shut.

A moment later, her muffled voice called out, sounding mortified but practical:

"Do you have any spare underwear I could borrow?!"

Cassius couldn’t help the small, affectionate grin that returned.

"Of course." He called back. "Top shelf on the left—my wives keep extras in there for exactly this reason. Take whatever fits."

A beat of silence, then the sound of running water, vigorous scrubbing, and some very determined muttering.

Cassius leaned back against the couch, shaking his head in quiet amusement and something warmer.

Ancient vampire, probably older then anyone in tha mansion because of her lifespan, terror of battlefields...

...and completely clueless about her own body until tonight.

He wiped the last of the laughter-tears from his eyes, listening to the splash of water and the occasional frustrated huff from behind the door.

Yeah.

This stay was going to be interesting.