Chapter 204: Fear of the Prey

Lilith lunged forward, her smile widening into something terrible—a predator’s grin, sharp and hungry. The threads around her fingers snapped outward, racing toward Isolde like silver serpents.

Isolde’s crimson eyes widened. Her hands shot up, summoning blood but nothing came. The crimson tide that had answered her call so readily moments ago now lay still on the floor, inert, unresponsive.

’Tch...’ Her mind raced, panic clawing at the edges of her thoughts. ’My mana is depleted. That human’s light spell burned through more than I realized.’

The threads reached her before she could retreat.

They wrapped around her wrists, her ankles, her throat—holding, immobilizing. The threads didn’t cut. Not yet. Lilith pulled, and Isolde stumbled forward, her body no longer her own.

Lilith stood before her, close enough to touch. Her crimson eyes, bright and terrible, fixed on the vampire’s pale face with an expression that made Isolde’s blood run cold.

’What... is this feeling?’ Isolde’s heart hammered against her ribs. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. ’Am I... afraid?’

The thought was absurd. She was a pure-blooded vampire. She had faced armies, demons, heroes—creatures that would make lesser beings weep with terror. She had never known fear. Not like this.

’No. No, I can’t be. I refuse—’

But her body betrayed her.

A warmth spread down her legs, unbidden, uncontrollable. Liquid trickled along her thighs, pooling beneath her feet, darkening the blood-soaked floor beneath her. She had not eaten in days, had not drunk—her body had nothing left to give.

And yet it gave this.

Lilith’s gaze dropped. Her smile widened.

"Ahaha." The sound was soft, almost musical. "You’re so cute. Did you just wet yourself?"

Isolde’s face went pale, paler than it already was. Her lips parted, but no words came. Her throat had closed, her voice stolen by something she could not name.

Lilith tilted her head, studying her with those terrible crimson eyes.

"Disgusting." The word was light, almost affectionate. "Hehehe."

Isolde stood frozen, bound and broken, her body trembling with a fear she had never known. And somewhere, in the darkest corner of her ancient mind, a voice whispered the truth she could not escape.

She was prey.

Lilith’s fingers hovered over Isolde’s temple, threads already poised to pierce skin, to burrow into the vampire’s mind and extract every secret hidden within. The vampire’s pale blue eyes—no longer crimson, her crown faded—stared at the approaching hand with raw, primal terror.

"Hmm." Lilith’s voice was soft, almost disappointed. She cupped her own cheek with her free hand, tilting her head. "I was thinking of eating you, but now I’ve lost my appetite."

Isolde’s gaze dropped. She couldn’t meet those crimson eyes—those terrible, patient eyes that saw her not as an enemy, but as prey. Her crown had dimmed to nothing. Her power, her centuries of accumulated strength, meant nothing against the absolute fear that had rooted itself in her chest.

Lilith leaned closer. "Are you that afraid? I thought a vampire who had lived so long would be stronger than this."

Isolde’s mind raced, a chaotic storm of denial and shame. ’This shouldn’t be happening. I am Isolde Draven. I have faced armies. I have killed heroes. I have never—never felt anything like this. A spider? A disgusting, sneaky spider? How can she make me feel this way?’

But the fear was already there, carved into her bones. Her body remembered what her mind refused to accept.

Lilith straightened, her expression shifting to one of bored resignation.

"Oh well. I’ll extract the information from you. And after that, I’ll eat your brain." Her smile returned, sharp and cruel. "It will make a fine gift for Adam."

She raised her hand again, fingers curling, threads gathering. Isolde wanted to scream. Wanted to beg. Wanted to do anything—anything—to escape the spider’s grasp.

But her pride would not let the words come.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

No sound emerged.

Lilith’s fingers touched her temple. The threads began to press—

"Wait, Lilith."

A hand closed around her wrist. Firm. Familiar.

Lilith’s crimson eyes widened. Her head turned, and there he was—Adam, standing at her side, his expression caught somewhere between exasperated and concerned.

"Don’t rush," he said quietly.

Lilith stared at him for a heartbeat. Then two.

Then she released Isolde and threw herself into his arms.

Adam caught her, stumbling back a step, his arms wrapping around her instinctively. Her face pressed against his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt, her body trembling with something that might have been relief.

"You’re back," she murmured, her voice muffled against his clothes.

Adam’s expression softened. His hand came up, resting on the back of her head, holding her close.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I’m back."

Adam’s arms tightened around Lilith reflexively as she pressed against him, her face buried in his chest. Her grip was fierce—possessive, desperate, as if she were afraid he might disappear if she let go.

’She’s hugging me so tightly... I can barely breathe,’ Adam thought, his ribs protesting. ’But... I guess I missed her too.’

He felt her nose twitch against his shirt—sniffing, inhaling his scent. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, as if confirming that he was real, that he had returned.

Adam’s hand moved on its own, fingers threading through her pale hair, stroking gently. The motion was soothing, familiar—something he had done a hundred times before, in the quiet moments between battles.

"I’m here," he murmured. "I’m not going anywhere."

Then his gaze drifted past her, taking in the storehouse.

Bodies. Dozens of them. Soldiers, their armor dented and broken, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and pain. Blood pooled across the floor in dark, glistening sheets, soaking into the cracks between the stones. The smell was overwhelming copper and iron and something else, something wrong.

And in the center of it all, a woman.

She was beautiful—pale skin, white hair, features that seemed carved by an artist’s hand. But her clothes were torn, her body bound by Lilith’s threads, and her legs...

Adam’s brow furrowed. ’Is that... did she...?’

The vampire’s face was flushed with shame, her eyes fixed on the floor. A stain spread beneath her, dark against the blood-soaked stones.

Adam looked away quickly, his expression carefully neutral.

’What the hell happened here? Did Lilith just go berserk?.’ He glanced at the carnage, at the bound vampire, at Lilith’s satisfied smile. ’She really went all out.’

Then Lilith’s face was in front of his.

Her hands cupped his cheeks, her crimson eyes blazing with something fierce and hungry. Before Adam could react, she kissed him.

It was not gentle. It was not tentative. It was brutal—a claiming, a demand, an affirmation of everything she had felt while he was gone. Her lips moved against his with an intensity that left no room for doubt, no space for hesitation.

Adam’s mind went blank. His hands, still tangled in her hair, tightened involuntarily. He tried to keep up, to match her pace, but she was overwhelming pushing, pulling, taking what she wanted without apology.

When she finally pulled back, Adam was breathless. His lips tingled. His face was flushed.

"A-hem."

The sound came from the doorway.

Ignis stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Her flames flickered around her shoulders, casting dancing shadows across her face. Her expression was caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

"I’m here too, you know," she said, her voice dry. "In case either of you forgot."

Lilith didn’t even glance at her. Her eyes remained fixed on Adam’s face, her fingers still cupping his cheeks.

"I didn’t forget," she murmured. "I simply didn’t care."

Ignis’s eye twitched. "Rude."

Adam, still recovering, cleared his throat and gently pried Lilith’s hands from his face. "We should... probably focus. On the situation." He gestured vaguely at the carnage around them. "This is a lot."

Lilith’s smile widened. "I had fun."

Ignis stomped into the room, stepping over a fallen soldier without looking down. Her eyes swept over the bound vampire, taking in her disheveled state, the dark stain spreading beneath her.

"Who’s the wet one?" Ignis asked bluntly. "Did she have an accident?"

The vampire’s face went from pale to crimson. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes blazing with humiliation and fury.

"I will kill you," Isolde hissed. "Slowly. I will rip out your tongue and—"

"Yeah, yeah." Ignis waved a dismissive hand. "Big talk from someone who’s tied up and can’t even control their own bladder."

Lilith laughed—a soft, musical sound that held no warmth at all.

"She’s cute, isn’t she?" Lilith said, glancing at Adam. "I was going to eat her brain, but now I’m not sure she’s worth the effort."

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was starting to ache.

"Let’s... take a step back." He looked at the vampire, at the bodies, at the blood-soaked floor. "Someone explain what happened here. From the beginning."

Lilith tilted her head, her smile never wavering.

"That might take a while."