CHAPTER 19: THE LOST SLAVE

Vlad lay beside Kai, who was fast asleep. He could still taste the slave’s blood on his tongue. It was a strange sweetness mixed with bitterness—something rare, something that shouldn’t exist in this world. His hand traced the iron collar around the slave’s neck, slowly moving down, brushing over the bite marks that were starting to turn black around the edges.

The scent of blood heightened his appetite. He licked his lips, staring at Kai’s body lying there—so tempting. Tempting to be devoured. His skin was pale, smooth like porcelain, with faint blue veins beneath the surface. So fragile, yet so alluring.

Vlad growled softly, holding back with all his strength to resist drinking Kai’s blood again. But he couldn’t resist.

Maybe a little more wouldn’t hurt. Just a drop, he thought. Just to ease the burning itch in his throat.

Vlad brought his fangs closer, his breath brushing against Kai’s neck, just as John called out from outside the room.

He sighed immediately. In such a state of desire, he had lost his sharp sense of hearing. Usually, he could detect someone approaching the building from hundreds of meters away. But now, his mind was clouded by the scent of fresh blood.

"Dr. Ibran is here, Master!" John called louder, sensing no response from Vlad.

Vlad sighed lazily. "Let him in," he said half-heartedly. He looked at Kai, knowing he would have to restrain himself for at least a week if he wanted the slave to stay alive.

A few moments later, an old, hunched doctor walked in. His steps were slow but steady. John walked beside him, making sure Ibran had everything he needed.

Vlad was used to the man, so he didn’t move from his position—just pointed lazily toward Kai.

"Examine him. This is the first time I’ve seen a slave faint after I’ve drained his blood," Vlad said.

Ibran walked closer. The naked slave lay weakly on the bed. His eyes widened at the familiar face.

Kai?

Ibran looked at John with wide eyes. "Is he your new slave?" he asked, clearly surprised.

John nodded. "He arrived yesterday. He seemed lost, so Master took him in."

Ibran looked back at Kai, speechless. The slave had run away and now lived in a vampire’s lair. Whether that was an accomplishment or a tragedy, it wasn’t good for the slave, not in this condition.

Even when he escaped from his former home, his condition had already been poor—and now he was even paler. It looked like he was only waiting for the moment he would vanish completely.

"What’s wrong?" Vlad asked, still reclining. He sensed Ibran’s shock.

Ibran snapped back to awareness and shook his head. There was no point in revealing the truth. It would only cause trouble for Kai. No slave had ever left Vlad’s manor alive. Everyone knew that.

It was Kai’s fate. But deep down, Ibran cursed the slave’s foolishness. If he wanted to run away, why didn’t he choose a better place?

Stupid fool, he muttered internally.

Ibran sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring Vlad’s scrutinizing gaze. He was used to it. He began examining Kai, inspecting every wound on his body.

He didn’t understand what Kai had done to earn the vampire’s attention. He hadn’t tended to a slave in Vlad’s room in decades.

"I already told you last time—you shouldn’t drink human blood more often than once a week. If you keep draining him every night, his body won’t have time to recover," Ibran said, checking Kai’s weak heartbeat and pulse.

Vlad sighed. "I didn’t drink that much. He fainted the first time I drank from him," he said defensively. Normally, he didn’t like being criticized, but the man knew more than he did. He was too lazy to learn such things, even after living for hundreds of years.

"His body is extremely weak—far below normal human limits. You have to give him at least two weeks to a month before drinking from him again," Ibran said, preparing a potion from the items in his bag.

Vlad groaned. "Two weeks? A month? Do you think I can wait that long?"

Ibran knew the man was impatient. "One week at minimum. No less than that—if you want this slave to live."

Vlad clicked his tongue in displeasure. He had already planned to drink from him again.

Ibran handed the potion to John and explained how it should be prepared. John accepted it and nodded.

He then bowed respectfully to Vlad and escorted Ibran out.

Ibran looked at Kai one last time before following John.

Vlad leaned against the headboard. The more he stared at Kai, the more he lost control. The scent of blood made it impossible to resist.

Finally, he stepped outside—his movements as swift as lightning. He leaned against a pillar at the edge of the balcony, his gaze fixed on the dark, misty lake. Instantly, his expression changed. His sharp eyes now softened with sorrow.

Vlad clenched his fists, feeling his chest constrict as if crushed by a thick wall.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. It had been more than twenty-five years, and the pain was still there.

"Larue," he whispered, unconsciously. His gaze drifted far into the distance.

Larue—the slave taken when he was still so young. He had been lively and cheerful. His smile, his screams, his laughter had filled Vlad’s days for ten years. Vlad had felt like he could give up everything just to die with him.

But Larue had made him swear to live on, to wait for him in the next life.

Vlad didn’t believe in such things. But he endured—for the hope of a miracle.

Larue hadn’t been the first. But he had taken all of Vlad’s heart.

And now he suffered.

Vlad looked up at the moon, which shone beautifully in the sky. Its gentle light illuminated the leaves, casting soft shadows that danced through the mist.

He stood there for a long while. His thoughts wandered.

Then, his ears picked up something. Footsteps—familiar ones—in the backyard.

He smiled at the thought. It must be Obi. What else would that little devil be doing out so late? No one ever suspected that the sweet boy was capable of so many things. Including the one thing Vlad disliked the most.