Was It Supposed To Be Like This?…

"Uh…yes," Avelina replied, a bit tense. "But... I don't want to consummate our...um…"

"I was never intending for us to do that!" Draven immediately shook his head at her. "That was just my old man's words. it doesn't mean I am willing to do it, so do not worry. I am not at all interested," he assured.

He lingered at the window, a bit reluctant to mark her. To him, Avelina looked scared, and he wasn't sure what to do. He wanted her to be as comfortable as ever so that they could both accomplish their goals without any mishaps, but at that moment, he was not sure if it was okay to proceed.

After a few seconds of contemplation, he sprang to his feet and made his way to the bed. He stared at her and took a deep breath.

She looked fine, with no sign of fright visible on her face, but regardless, he could tell that she was afraid from her fingers, which were nervously tapping the bed. He had noticed that she tapped her fingers on her thighs, floors, table, or anything else whenever she was anxious.

He exhaled and gently grabbed her chin.

"Are you ready?" he inquired.

"Yes," Avelina replied, her heartbeat quickening.

Her eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity

Draven slowly pushed her down to the bed and hovered above her. He extended a hand, his touch surprisingly gentle and his fingers grazed the delicate skin on her neck, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake.

He interlocked his fingers with hers and pinned her hands above her head.

Avelina gulped and shut her eyes, unable to deal with the heavy tension.

Was it supposed to be like this?…

"I am sorry in advance if it hurts more than a sting," Draven said in contrition, assuring her that he meant no harm.

He tilted her head to one side and glanced at the spot where he was meant to bite. A whiff of soft breath fled his nose, and he slowly slanted his face closer.

Avelina's breath hitched as she felt the cool brush of his lips against her neck. The hairs on her body rose at the impact, and she felt a profound chill rush down her spine.

She furiously fluttered her lengthy lashes, and her heart began to race the second she felt his tongue lick the spot where her blood pumped the most on her neck. She swallowed hard.

Draven's fangs elongated, but he hesitated. His eyes were filled with reluctance and concern.

"Should I go on?" he inquired.

Avelina nodded her head at him. "Yes."

With utmost care, Draven lowered his head, his lips pressing delicately against her neck. He pierced his fangs into her skin, causing her hot blood to instantly gush into his mouth.

Avelina, who felt the sting, hissed in instant pain and shut her eyes the moment he began to suck her blood.

Wait! Is he supposed to do that? Why is he drinking my blood?… She panicked.

Her body trembled, and she gritted her teeth, trying to keep her thoughts straight. She curled her fingers, and her nails dug deep into Draven's hands, hurting him.

"Please…stop…"

She began to breathe unsteadily, and immediately noticing, Draven paused.

He drew back and glanced at her reddish face. He blinked and tried to say something, but at the glimpse of the blood dripping out of the two tiny holes on her neck, he leaned in and quickly licked it up.

A heavy gasp escaped from Avelina, and she hurriedly covered her mouth with her released hand.

Draven looked at her and his eyes reflected a mixture of concern and regret. He didn't mean to drink her blood.

"I am sorry if I hurt you," he apologized as he got off her.

Before Avelina who had sat up on the bed could talk, he walked off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Avelina composed herself and stared at the door of the bathroom. She clutched her beating chest and exhaled a faint breath.

"I am...okay." She trailed off with a relieved expression.

…

In the lit, lavishly decorated bathroom, Draven stood by the sink at the gilded mirror. He turned on the tap, letting a stream of water flow and fill the sink with a gentle rush.

He looked at the wound that Avelina had inflicted on his hands and slightly frowned.

Why aren't they healing?… He wondered, but shook his head, that being far from the problem he had at the moment.

His pale, alabaster bloody hands cupped the cool liquid and splashed his face. He lifted his head and fixated his gaze on the mirror, where his reflection captured his pained expression.

His hands balled into a tight fist when a subtle shift suddenly occurred within him and a soft, almost imperceptible rustling sound emerged. His back arched slightly, and with a graceful motion, expansive white wings slowly began to unfurl.

Feathers of pure white became visible, their edges glistening with a subtle iridescence.

Draven watched in silence as this huge pristine white, blinding wings attached to his back became fully apparent to the eyes. He ignored the pain he was feeling, only shocked to see those wings.

He hadn't freed these wings for months now, yet with just one drink of Avelina's blood, they released themselves! It was as though it was just the right trigger they needed to forcefully escape.

Normally, vampires were not meant to possess the ability to grow wings—so they were taught, but due to a miracle, this became possible. However, growing these wings was not an easy feat.

The gifted ones achieve it at a young adult age, but Draven did it at the age of ten. One would call him a prodigy, wouldn't they? A frightening child, according to them.

Among the whole royal family, only he was the first to possess those sets of white wings. The rest possessed black wings, which were the norm.

He was envied, for those wings were deemed special.

Now, why would he cage these wings? Didn't he adore them?