Chapter 33

It had taken but a few short weeks to worm his way into her bed. The city lord's daughter, Anabelle, was under his sleek body writhing in pleasure – and not for the first time. At the height of ecstasy, his impulse gave away and his fangs extended down to her elegant neck. With the barest hint of pressure, he was in and ruby blood flowed into his mouth like a river.

Anabelle's blood wasn't like everyone else; she was special. Atlas, despite being a master of refining blood wine, had never tasted the like before. It was rich and smooth and seemed to soothe something deep within himself.

Vampires knew there were individuals born with unique bloodlines – sometimes gifts of nature, gods or just plain luck. The other thing vampires know, which was recorded in libraries across Sylvania, was how to steal that power for themselves.

Anabelle squired in a mixture of pain and pleasure, lost to the haze of bliss given during the love-making combined with his intoxicating venom (given off whenever a vampire feeds). Atlas pulled on the weaves of magic flowing through the air in subtle runes that shone around the pair.

Pulling his head back and relinquishing his feast to preserve her life, Atlas saw drops of golden blood flow out of her open wound, coalescing into a ball of energy that contained her bloodline. With a flick of his wrist, Atlas magic bound it and secured it.

Then, he devoured it whole.

 Feeling the power flow through him, his cultivation starting on its own. Threats of golden power fused with his blood, travelling through his dead body, refining, and cleansing his body. This is what he desired above all. The pleasure, riches and status he had earned in Nuln was nothing before his own power.

*Beep!*

*Source of Energy detected*

*Energy binding with host. Accept or Discard?*

"Accept." His husky whisper was lost to the guttural noises of their flesh slapping together.

Suddenly everything was different.

Lights seemed brighter, sounds louder. He was stronger.

Untangling himself from Anabelle, Atlas walked over the window, his naked form silhouetted on the city below.

He had broken through. No longer a knight, but now a vampire Baron, the same level his maker was when she died. Baron were no longer foot soldiers, but veteran commanders who built their own faction.

Turning to face Anabelle, her hair ruffled and neck bleeding, he couldn't help but feel thankful for her. She had given him the spark he needed to push past the bottleneck. Feeling her with his magic, he couldn't help but notice a difference.

His spell had extracted her special bloodline, and unlike regular blood, it wouldn't replenish. It was a treat he could only enjoy once.

Seeing her confused face, he knew now he must pay for that power. He needed to give Anabelle a version of the truth. He had exposed himself as a vampire before her, now he needed to entrap her as a loyal thrall.

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Anabelle's accusation cut through the air like a blade, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. "You... you're a vampire!" she exclaimed, her words laced with betrayal.

Atlas met her gaze, his expression calm yet tinged with sorrow. "Yes, it's true," he admitted softly, his voice carrying the weight of power behind it. "But please, Anabelle, hear me out."

Her eyes flashed with indignation, but she listened as he spoke, his words weaving a tapestry of reassurance and understanding. "I've been exiled from Sylvania," he confessed, his tone earnest. "All I seek is a quiet life, away from the turmoil of my past." She had no need to know the temptation of blood was too much for him.

Anabelle's resolve wavered, her anger tempered by the sincerity in his voice. "But... why didn't you tell me?" she asked, her voice laced with hurt.

Atlas had spent weeks getting to know her, she was a typical princess, expecting to be looked after and wooed by everyone she met. He needed to convince her that she was special, even if his interest now waned with the loss of her golden blood.

Atlas reached out to her, his touch gentle yet firm. "I was afraid," he lied, his eyes locking with hers. "Afraid of losing you." He channelled a thread of power through his blood, increasing his attractiveness; vampire charm was a potent weapon when wielded correctly.

As his words settled upon her, Anabelle felt a wave of emotion wash over her. "I... I understand," she whispered, her anger dissipating like mist in the morning sun. "But promise me, Atlas. Promise me you'll never hurt me again."

Atlas nodded solemnly, his gaze unwavering. "I promise," he vowed, his words a solemn oath that he had no intention of keeping. What was the promise to a mortal worth anyway? 

Hours of redemption followed, Atlas even let her drink a drop of his blood to heal the wound of her neck, leaving no scars, to avoid uncomfortable questions.

Despite Anabelle's reservations, Atlas was able to intrigue her imagination with grandiose stories of vampire nobility, ancient wars and lost magic. Soon she was so desperate for more that she would do anything for him.

Anabelle, the city lords daughter, now served him.

At first, it was small things he asked, an invitation to certain events, a chance to read the city lord's library or even help hiding the evidence of his feedings from the guard. Over time, as she fell deeper and deeper into his web, he could ask more.

Secret maps of the empire. Cultivation methods of her family. The names of those foolish enough to hide wealth in their homes; something Atlas was only too happy to relive them of. Soon, Anabelle wanted to join in. She acted as bait to draw people out for him to feed on; and then watched with sick fascination.

She had convinced herself she wanted to become a vampire queen. Immortal and young forever with her strong protector by her side.

One evening, Atlas gave her a copy of a book. The cover wasn't anything special, just the cheaper blank books often used for notetaking that could be bought in every city.

Seeing her questioning look, Atlas smiled and answered.

"I need a favour my dear." He purred into her ears turning Anabelle's legs to jelly.

"Anything." She purred back.

"There is mage by the name of Strickler. I want him to have it."

She flicked through the pages but couldn't make sense of the diagrams and unfamiliar script.

"What is it?"

"A gift. One that if he asks, I have plenty more." As she nodded her acceptance, Atlas continued. "He will want to know where you got it from. Tell him I will meet him tomorrow at midnight at the Skull and Hoof Inn. It is important. Repeat the name." he commanded his thrall.

"Meet at Skull and Hoof Inn - Midnight."

"Good." Letting a smile play on his lips, he decided to reward her in advance. Pulling her to the bed with his claws making short work of her clothes.