A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 357: Could It Be A Dream?

Chapter 357: Could It Be A Dream?

Automatically, at his command, Avelina extended out both her hands, reaching for him. Draven grabbed onto them, pulling her up into a sitting position with her head bent.

He stared at her, and the next moment she lifted her head, he was met with deep ruby eyes, almost as intimidating as his. The hazel color of her pupils was gone, replaced by those scarlet ones.

She breathed heavily like she was out of breath, and shifted her gaze to his neck. "T-thirsty! G-give...give..." She grabbed him, jumping onto him to reach for his neck.

Draven smiled to himself, gently beginning to caress his hair. "You can have as much as you want." Instead of allowing her access to his neck, he gave his arm to her, rolling up the hem of his shirt.

Avelina’s ruby eyes twitched violently, and she snatched his arm, violently biting into it with her elongated fangs and the whole of her bloody teeth. Draven cradled her closer to him and began to stroke her hair, letting her have her fill, no matter how long it took.

The moment Avelina was satisfied with the amount of blood she’d consumed, she dropped, falling completely unconscious in Draven’s arms.

Draven sighed, slightly weakened. He lifted her into his arms and stood up, stepping out of the bathtub. A bit away from the tub, he laid her down on the floor and walked back to clean up the tub, flushing out the bloody water.

He wiped the entire bathroom clean, and once he’d refilled the tub with water, he walked back to Avelina, squatting down in front of her.

Allowing the maids to wash her was not a good idea, otherwise, they would be aware of what had happened, and that was the last thing he’d wanted. Just because they can turn humans does not mean they were allowed to, and he needed his father’s permission if he wanted to.

He hadn’t gotten his father’s permission before turning Avelina, so that would be a great deal of trouble for him. But even if he had gone seeking approval, his father damn well would have disapproved of it. Therefore, it was utterly useless. Either way, he would have still gone against his father and turned Avelina.

Draven unzipped the blood-soaked dress, lifting her out of it. He lifted her naked body into his arms and walked over to the tub, laying her inside of it.

Gently, he washed off the blood that painted her body and thoroughly cleaned her curls, which were quite tangled from all the mess.

"Don’t hate me too much, hm?" Draven rinsed her body off the soap and bubbles and carried her out of the tub. He left the bathroom, patiently changing her into new sets of pink pajamas. He managed to brush her hair to look a bit pleasing to the eyes, and once he was done, he laid her on the bed, covering her with the duvet.

He was not sure when she would be waking up, but he knew it wouldn’t be in the next hour. It might take longer than that.

Draven left the bedroom, making his way into the bathroom to take his bath. He threw his head back once he was soaked in the warm water and shut his eyes, delving into his own thoughts.

If only I hadn’t let her go... He mocked himself, this being the first time he’d ever felt so stupid and dumb. How could he have made such a mistake? What the heck was he even thinking?

If he hadn’t let her go, she would have still been with him, completely herself. She wouldn’t be what she was now, devoid of her humanity, if he had just pulled her right back.

Everything was his fault.

He dropped his arm over his face, covering his eyes, the second he felt those warm liquids begin to build up in his eyes again.

She would hate him, and even though he was ready to endure it, he knew it would hurt him to the depths of his soul. It would leave him bitter and unable to taste happiness ever again. She was his happiness, thus, how would he ever be happy if she was going to despise his very existence for what he’d done to her?

And he did so without her consent. But he just couldn’t let her die.

How could he, when the only way was right in front of him? He had to take it because her being alive was already enough for him. It would not matter if she hated him or not; he would be more than satisfied as long as she was alive.

Draven removed his hand, blinking his wet lashes apart. He stared at the ceiling with blurry, watery eyes and sighed, wiping the tears off.

"I’m sorry," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair to wash it.

...

It was completely dawn before Avelina finally moved her body, blinking her lashes open. She had been unconscious for nearly twenty-four hours, which was completely worse than what Draven had estimated. He didn’t think she would be unconscious for that long.

Avelina jackknifed herself into a sitting position, a deep grunt of exhaustion escaping her throat. She roughly ran her fingers through her hair and buried her face in her knees, which were curled up on her chest.

Her mind was still hazed, and she was yet to realize where she was or the fact that she was even alive. She knew she died—the memory of her drowning, desperately gasping for air, and wanting help was etched brutally in her mind.

She’d felt her soul sip away from her, and she couldn’t do anything or save herself.

"Heaven?" Avelina muttered, raising her head to look around. But her eyes, however, halted on him—that one man she’d thought of before she died, sitting on the sofa with his head thrown back and his legs crossed.

Her lashes flickered nervously and slowly she began to wonder what sort of heaven it was that she was in. How was he with her? Was she hallucinating? Could it be a dream?