The True Ascension
Chapter 41: Apparent contrast

Chapter 41: Apparent contrast

And perhaps, in the shadows of their own dreams, Astrid and Isis smiled. After all, everything was going exactly as they had planned.

The room was still bathed in the soft gloom of dawn, where the first rays of light filtered through the thin silk curtains, drawing golden beams on the polished marble floor. The air was thick with a sweet, heady perfume — a blend of floral essence, sweat, desire, and intimacy — as if the very atmosphere breathed in sync with the bodies that had surrendered to one another just hours before. The silence was thick, almost tangible. A kind of silence that didn’t just fill the space, but sealed it, as if time had stopped there, eternalizing that moment after a night of bonds, revelations, and complete surrender.

An undefined amount of time passed. Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter. Inside that room, the outside world seemed not to exist.

At the center of the vast bed with its rumpled satin sheets, Aziz stirred lightly. His young body — already marked by decisions far beyond his age — still rested under the tangled covers. His face was serene, lips parted, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He slept deeply, like someone who, for a few brief hours, had been freed from the weight of all he knew — and all that was to come.

But something subtle began to pull him back to consciousness. A touch. Not harsh. Not urgent. A light, moist touch, almost ethereal. Like the caress of a wet feather sliding across his sensitive skin.

His eyelashes quivered. The muscles in his neck tightened instinctively. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, as if his body already knew — before his mind did — that he was no longer alone in the tranquility of sleep. Aziz opened his eyes slowly, and for a moment everything was blurry — until the golden light of dawn revealed what was before him.

Her.

Isis.

Straddling him like a satisfied and hungry feline, her knees rested firmly on either side of his thighs, balancing herself with feline grace. Her body was wrapped in a sheer black satin nightgown, the fabric almost transparent, clinging to her skin as if it had kissed every inch of her during the night. The garment barely covered her voluptuous form. Her loose black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face in a play of shadows and light. She was bent over his neck, her mouth teasing his skin, nibbling with a playfulness that seemed almost innocent... but her eyes — her eyes revealed something else entirely.

They shone with an ancient, primal hunger. A kind of thirst that no amount of blood could ever satisfy.

It was as if she wanted to awaken him not with words, but with touches. Not with promises, but with gentle bites. With intentions unspoken but deeply felt.

Sensing the shift in his breathing — that sudden, conscious acceleration between a muffled moan and a gasp — Isis slowly lifted her face. Her gaze met his. For a brief moment, the two of them remained silent, as if an entire conversation was being exchanged through their eyes alone.

Then she smiled.

A smile far too sweet to be innocent. Far too provocative to be casual.

"Good morning, my young master," she whispered, her velvety voice dancing through the air like damp silk, her lips curved in an expression that blended tenderness with mischief. She embodied a dangerous femininity — the kind that enchants first... and devours after.

Aziz blinked a few times, still absorbing the hypnotic image in front of him. His heart gave a stronger beat, not out of fear or surprise, but from the intensity of her presence. And with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he thought to himself, with resigned affection:

’No matter how much time passes... this vampire will always be mischievous,’ he mused, shaking his head inwardly.

"Good morning... But already biting my neck, Isis?" he murmured, with mock exasperation. "Don’t tell me you wanted to drink my blood before I even opened my eyes..."

The vampire let out a low, delightful giggle, leaning forward and letting her long hair cascade over his chest like a perfumed curtain. Her smile widened slightly — not out of guilt... but out of charm. The kind of confidence that came from knowing she was irresistible.

"Hmm... actually, I was just... checking your neck. That’s all," she answered with theatrical innocence. "But let’s say, hypothetically, if I wanted to wake you up just to suck your blood... what would you do?"

She raised one eyebrow, playful, as if this were part of a little game she loved to play — and knew she would win.

Aziz sighed and rolled his eyes. But in that moment, he decided her provocation deserved a small punishment. Without warning, his hand slid swiftly down her back and delivered a sharp, loud slap to her left buttock, barely covered by the symbolic layer of fabric.

Smack!

"Ahhn~" The moan that escaped her lips wasn’t one of pain, but of pleasure. Pure, vibrant, laced with something nearly orgasmic. Her body arched atop him, as if that strike had touched something far deeper.

He raised his hand again, threatening a repeat — but a subtle sound interrupted him.

A delicate cough. Soft. Almost shy. But full of meaning.

Aziz slowly turned his head, as if already suspecting what he would find.

Astrid.

Lying beside him, wrapped only in the sheets and her own golden hair, she watched the scene with half-lidded sky-blue eyes. There was a near-maternal tranquility in her expression... but also a trace of mischievous irony. A faint smirk on her lips, as if she had been quietly enjoying the scene for a while — and only now decided to make her presence known.

His hand, still suspended in the air, froze. Then it slowly lowered... until it rested on the mattress.

Aziz cleared his throat discreetly, uncertain whether to laugh or apologize. Gently, he turned to Astrid and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Did I wake you? Sorry..." he whispered, genuinely embarrassed.

But Astrid simply smiled with warmth. A loving, tender smile, capable of melting any defense.

"Don’t worry, darling... I was already awake. I was just enjoying the warmth of your body..."

Aziz relaxed. But he couldn’t resist glancing mischievously at Isis. And this time, instead of another slap, he grabbed and squeezed her buttock firmly.

"Mmh~" she moaned again, her eyes gleaming even brighter, lips parted, gaze heavy with indulgent delight. She loved the game. And he knew it.

"You’re impossible..." Aziz muttered.

"Haaah... Come now. You wanted my blood, didn’t you? Then drink," he said, tilting his neck, pulling aside the collar of his robe, exposing the vein pulsing beneath his warm skin.

Isis didn’t hesitate.

With a graceful, hungry motion, she descended. Her red eyes gleamed. The world disappeared.

Shlick.

"Mmmh..." Aziz moaned, feeling her fangs pierce his skin. Her hot, eager mouth wrapped around his neck with wild devotion.

Sluurp... Sluurp... Sluurp...

The sound filled the room. Erotic. Primal. Intense.

Instinctively, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. It wasn’t just about giving his blood... it was about giving himself entirely.

On the other side, Astrid merely nestled closer, resting her head on his shoulder, smiling softly. The warmth of his breathing, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the touch of skin against skin... everything was exactly as she had envisioned.

---

Some time later, the trio finally rose. They bathed together, with soft laughter, tender touches, and silent understanding. They dressed in elegant clothes, ready for a new day — though nothing could erase the marks of a night sealed not just in flesh, but in spirit.

Guided by the scent of fresh bread, ripe fruits, and sweet spices, they made their way to the dining hall.

At first glance, everything seemed normal. The sound of cutlery, the clinking of glasses, soft conversations among the other women of the house.

But to keen eyes... something had changed.

Stella and Sylvia, seated side by side, exchanged subtle glances. There was a new weight in the air. A new force.

The trio that had just entered — Astrid, Aziz, and Isis — walked with a denser aura. There was something more intimate in each step, in every movement. Astrid’s fingers were interlaced with Aziz’s, as if silently declaring the depth of their bond. Isis, beside him, smiled with dangerous sweetness, as if she carried a secret no one else knew.

During breakfast, both women fed Aziz directly. Fruits offered with giggles. Fingers gently wiping his lips. A bit of juice deliberately spilled... and licked by Isis before he could even reach for a napkin.

Across the table, Zia watched them silently. Her posture remained regal, her face flawless. But her eyes told another story. Every time they met Aziz’s gaze, her expression shifted. A faint blush. Averted eyes. A breath caught in her throat.

And then there was Sofia.

The little lady of neutral city Varelis barely touched her food. Her eyes were fixed on Aziz. Whenever he smiled at her, her composure collapsed, cheeks blooming with scarlet, and she murmured things only she could hear.

Stella and Sylvia couldn’t quite say what had changed — but they knew something *definitive* had been sealed.

Aziz was no longer the same.

There was a new weight in his presence. A magnetism. A power.

And without realizing it, both women found themselves watching... admiring.

When he smiled at them — as if sensing their gazes — their hearts beat faster. And something new — intimate, unsettling, dangerous — began to bloom inside them.

Something that, with time... would flourish.