The damp sounds of the kiss echoed through the dark hall, mingled with the metallic scent of blood that still marked their skin. There were no more clinking chains, no wind, no past or future… only the two of them in the center of that ancient circle, as if the world had been reduced to that endless instant.
The newly formed bond pulsed between their bodies like a shared heart.
Emotions began to mingle… Not just hunger, it was… Possession, a small acknowledgment of recognition.
The possession radiating from Victor wasn't just physical… it was spiritual. The seal on the floor amplified everything, pushing sensations beyond the natural limit. Vampires already felt the world with far greater intensity than ordinary humans, but under the marriage ritual, every emotion was brutally expanded. If before the flame was strong, now it was a wildfire.
Carmilla felt her mind waver… pride… authority… Her identity was being taken little by little, and she was loving it!
Everything was swallowed by an absolute white, vast as snow falling on an endless field. Her body reacted before her thoughts could organize themselves. Every point where he touched her seemed to ignite beneath her skin. Each beat of the bond sent electric waves down her spine.
She hated it… And, at the same time— She wanted more.
More of the warmth of that touch, more of the overwhelming presence of that vow… More of that connection that bound and freed her simultaneously.
It was insatiable.
The hunger wasn't just for blood now… It was a hunger for him… whole and without limits, endless, she wanted everything.
It was Carmilla who broke first.
With a brusque movement, she dug her hands into Victor's chest and pushed him back. It wasn't an attack… it was instinct. The air seemed to tear as he slid a few steps away from her, his lips still marked by the red they shared.
She gasped.
Not like a queen.
Not like a primordial entity.
But like someone who had just emerged from waters that were too deep.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her fingers touching her own lips as if trying to understand what had just happened.
"How…?" her voice came out faltering, hoarse, laden with something she didn't want to admit. "How do you have so much breath to kiss me for six minutes?"
The silence that followed was short.
Victor tilted his head slightly.
Then he smiled.
"Six minutes?" He raised an eyebrow, amusement evident in his dark eyes. "You counted?"
The question hit her harder than the kiss.
Carmilla's face flushed a delicate red that contrasted with the imposing nature of his presence. "I-it has nothing to do with that!" she retorted quickly, looking away for a moment. "I was caught off guard. That's all."
Victor laughed.
Not loudly.
But genuinely.
The sound echoed through the hall like something warm amidst the ancient coldness of that place.
"Even though I know exactly what you're feeling…" he stepped forward, not invasive, but confident, "...it's interesting to see you trying to maintain your pride."
She froze.
Because he was right.
The bond.
She felt it.
Every beat.
Every intention.
That presence within her—not invasive, but intertwined—touching her emotions as if they were strings too sensitive.
"I'm not—" she began, but the word died in her throat.
This wasn't just desire.
It wasn't just hunger.
It was… love—No! It was Possession.
His possession was stealing her feelings, confusing her thoughts, mixing her emotions with his in a way that made it impossible to separate where she ended and where he began.
"Stop it," she ordered, her voice less firm than she intended.
Victor blinked, an almost theatrical innocence crossing his expression.
"Stop what?" He opened his hands slightly, as if he weren't doing anything at all. "I'm not doing anything."
And the worst part? He was telling the truth… The connection simply existed.
"Who are you?" she asked again, but this time the tone had changed. The arrogance hadn't completely disappeared, but there was something different there. A calculated caution. An instinctive respect that even she didn't fully understand, but that her body insisted on adopting in his presence.
Victor held her gaze without hesitation.
"My name is Victor Valentine." His voice came out firm, carrying a newfound confidence. "Currently… the worst vampire of the Valentine House. The Bad-Blood Cursed One." A crooked smile appeared on his lips. "Although that's temporary."
The title hung in the air for a moment.
Carmilla frowned slightly and analyzed him from head to toe, slowly and meticulously, as if she were evaluating a rare specimen. Her eyes traveled over his broad shoulders, his defined chest still marked by traces of dried blood, the firm line of his abdomen molding itself under the partially open fabric of his shirt. There was density there. Contained power. Life pulsing.
"You?" she murmured, incredulous. "Bad-Blood Cursed One?"
It was almost offensive to what her senses perceived.
She could feel the quality of his blood. The rarity. The depth. There was nothing weak or degraded about his presence. On the contrary… it was… too intense.
Her eyes lingered a second longer on his defined abdomen, on the muscles that subtly contracted with each breath. Without realizing it, she lightly bit her lower lip before regaining her composure.
"There's nothing 'worse vampire' about this," she declared, making a discreet gesture up and down, indicating his body with her hand. "Quite the opposite."
Victor blinked, as if only then realizing his own form. He looked at himself, analyzing his body's new balance.
"Oh." He raised his chin slightly. "I've gotten taller."
And, almost as a test, he opened his button-down shirt a little more, deliberately revealing more of his own skin… not vulgarly, but consciously. Calculated.
The effect was immediate.
The blush returned to Carmilla's face with irritating intensity. She looked away too quickly for someone who claimed indifference.
"S-stop showing off!" she retorted, crossing her arms as if that could restore her lost authority. "This is… unnecessary."
Victor simply smiled. Because the bond didn't lie, and he could feel exactly how unnecessary it was for her.
"Well, drinking my ancestor's blood from many years ago had some effect." He said, keeping his muscles exposed.
She stared at him for a few seconds, clearly trying to organize her thoughts. Then something seemed to click into place.
Her eyes widened.
"Ah… that's right…" Her expression suddenly distorted, and the aura around her exploded in pure fury. "That son of a bitch Dracula!"
The scream reverberated like ancient thunder. The ground cracked beneath her feet, the ceiling vibrated, the air became heavy as if the world itself were being pressed down by her millennial wrath.
Victor felt his body tremble involuntarily.
It wasn't fear. It was the raw intensity of her rage piercing the bond and striking his nerves like an electric shock. He managed to remain composed, but it was impossible to ignore the weight of that emotion.
Carmilla turned her gaze to him immediately.
"What happened to Vlad?" She walked toward him with determined steps, stopping just inches away. Her presence was overwhelming. "Is he alive?" Her eyes gleamed dangerously. "Tell me he's dead. Please."
It wasn't just an order.
It was a plea.
Victor held her gaze and shook his head negatively.
"The King is as he always was," she replied coldly. "That madman continues to sit on the throne, scratching his balls and doing absolutely nothing, while we, the Valentines, remain the force that truly sustains and protects the domain."
The words were like blades.
Carmilla's gaze wavered.
"H-how many years…?" Her voice came out lower, almost distant. "Five thousand? Ten thousand? I really don't know." Victor shrugged. "I was born less than fifty years ago. But I can assure you he's safe, sound, and very healthy. He lives throwing parties, surrounded by beautiful wives, enjoying each century as if it were eternal." His jaw tightened. "Damn Vampire King."
The silence that fell after that was different.
It wasn't explosive.
It was profound.
Carmilla looked away and stared at the floor, her fingers slowly clenching.
"He sealed me…" she murmured, each word laden with ancient venom. "That damned man sealed me because I refused to marry him."
Victor blinked. "But aren't you the Vampire Queen?"
She nodded slowly. "Queen… without marriage," she replied bitterly. "Only in name."
Victor's face contorted in a nervous rage as a strange aura emanated from his body. Carmilla saw the man and wondered, "What is this?"
He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair like someone finally deciding to say what was stuck in their throat.
"I'm sorry for trapping you in a marriage you didn't want." His voice was calm and direct. "I did it to make sure you wouldn't kill me the second you woke up. But… seeing you now… I think it was an overreaction." He gave a half-smile. "You can barely stand."
If there wasn't a bond between them, it would have sounded like a provocation.
But Carmilla felt it.
There was no contempt.
There was no arrogance.
It was just… raw honesty.
She stared at him for a few seconds, analyzing this strange man who had just awakened her from an ancient seal and, immediately afterwards, apologized for it.
"It's okay." She nodded slowly. And there was respect there. "I'd probably do the same." A pause. "And… it's still better than Vladimir."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy.
It was… strange.
Awkward.
Two absurdly powerful beings, bound by a ritualistic marriage, unsure of what to do next.
Victor scratched the back of his neck.
"Well… no hard feelings?" He extended his hand, somewhat awkwardly, as if sealing a business deal, not a marriage of souls.
Her gaze fell to his outstretched hand.
Then rose to his face.
"No hard feelings." She shook his hand.
The touch was firm.
The bond vibrated slightly.
And silence returned.
Even more awkward.
Carmilla looked away first.
"So…" She fiddled with her fingers, something unexpectedly youthful for a primordial vampire. "You want… to stay married?"
There was something different in her tone.
It wasn't imposition.
It wasn't pride.
It was… curiosity.
Perhaps even interest.
Victor blinked a few times. "If you want." He replied simply. "I'm not going to force my ancestor to remain my wife. It was just a guarantee of survival."
Carmilla raised both hands quickly, almost defensively.
"No, no, it's fine! I would do the same in your place." She looked away. "And you are… handsome and all."
"Huh?" Victor tilted his head.
"Nothing." She replied too quickly.
He stared.
And then he realized.
That woman.
The primordial queen.
The vampire who terrorized ages.
She was restless. Fidgeting with her fingers. Avoiding eye contact. Like a girl who didn't know where to hide her own dignity.
Victor felt the corner of his mouth slowly curl up.
"In love?" She froze.
She turned her face away immediately. "How audacious." she replied, trying to sound haughty—failing miserably.
The bond, however, gave everything away.
Victor watched her for a few seconds in that almost embarrassing state of false pride. Then, without warning, he took a step forward… And another… He stopped very close.
Close enough for Carmilla to feel the warmth of his body—something rare, almost indecent for the cold nature of vampires. The bond vibrated between them, softly.
She looked up, suspicious. "What are you—"
He didn't let her finish.
He simply leaned in slightly and placed a delicate kiss on her cheek.
It wasn't invasive.
It wasn't dominant.
It was… surprisingly gentle.
Carmilla froze.
Victor stepped back just enough to look at her with a slight smile.
"You're quite cute, you know?" He said naturally, as if commenting on the weather. "I would love to take care of you forever."
Her brain seemed to freeze… The primordial vampire… The queen sealed for millennia… She… blushed.
A soft red rose to her cheeks, and for a second she seemed about to retaliate with something acidic.
But she didn't deny it. She didn't push him away. She didn't shove him.
She just looked away with a small, almost inaudible "hmph."
Victor then let his gaze travel down her body.
The old, torn rags barely covering her now-restored skin.
He arched an eyebrow.
"I think I'd better get you some clothes," he commented casually. "You're practically half-naked in those rags."
It was instantaneous… Her face turned completely red as she realized her breasts were almost showing in those ugly white rags.
"I-I'm not!" she retorted, crossing her arms reflexively, only realizing too late that this made the situation worse.
The next second, the air around her vibrated. Blood began to emerge from her own skin like liquid threads, swirling around her body in elegant and precise movements. The crimson danced like living silk, molding itself, stitching itself together, forming layers and curves with supernatural perfection.
In a few seconds, a deep red dress enveloped her body—elegant, fitted, with a majestic drape. The fabric seemed made of liquid velvet, with dark reflections like wine under invisible light.
She lifted her chin, regaining some of her dignity. "I can take care of myself," she said arrogantly, but with a hint of 'But I'll let you take care of me later.'
Victor observed her for a few seconds. Without irony. Without provocation. "You look beautiful."
Carmilla held his gaze this time. The blush was still there, discreet.
"I know," she replied, a slight, confident smile returning to her lips.