Chapter 18
1210words
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse apartment, spring had arrived in the city.
Emma sat on that sofa which had once frightened her, with an expensive cashmere blanket covering her legs. She had just returned from her evening classes at her new school—the Downtown Art Academy.
There were two things on the table.
The first was the final report from the clinic in Lausanne, Switzerland. Leo's treatment... had been successful. He had been discharged and was in recovery. Elias had arranged an anonymous trust fund for him, allowing him to live a healthy life like any ordinary person.
Emma's "contract," in essence, was fulfilled. She was free.
The second item was an opened letter. From Liam.
Emma had received it a week ago. The letter was long, and she spent a long time reading it. It was full of apologies.
He apologized for his stupidity, his paranoia, his "heroism." He apologized for nearly getting her killed. Most importantly, he apologized for accusing her of being "materialistic."
"...I finally understand now, Emma," he wrote at the end of the letter, "that day in the restaurant, when he spoke up for you, I realized that the 'monster' understood you better than I did. I was only trying to mold you into a part of my 'future,' while he... he truly saw your 'present.' I won't bother you anymore. I just hope you're safe, even if... it's with him."
Emma folded the letter. She felt a sense of relief, a complete farewell to the past.
She was free. She could pick up her bag at any time, walk out that door, and return to the "normal" world to see her brother who had now recovered.
But she didn't.
She just sat there quietly, drinking the hot cocoa Julian had prepared for her, waiting.
Waiting to "go home."
At eleven o'clock at night, the elevator made a soft "ding" sound.
Elias walked in. He had just finished a lengthy board meeting, his face carrying a hint of the night's chill and his usual fatigue.
"You're back." Emma stood up and naturally walked over to take his coat.
This gesture was so practiced, as if they had been doing this for decades.
A hint of tenderness flashed in Elias's golden eyes. He didn't speak, just bent down and pressed a cold kiss to her forehead.
In these few months, everything had changed.
That comforting moment after the car accident that night was like a switch. The taut string between them had transformed into a "bond."
He had taken her to see Leo. Under the Swiss sunlight, Elias just stood quietly outside the hospital room, watching Emma and her brother weep with joy through the glass.
He had also taken her to meet his "family" — in an ancient manor on the outskirts of New York where time seemed to stand still. Those "kindred" who had lived for hundreds of years looked at her with strange, scrutinizing, yet reverent gazes.
Of course, there was also the "feeding."
It was no longer predation or punishment. It had become a... ritual. A fusion of soul and body more profound than any intimacy between mortals.
Each time, when she sensed his suppressed "hunger," she no longer feared, but would actively approach him. Each time, that sensation of pleasure mixed with "blessing" made her surrender completely.
"Leo," Emma helped him hang up his coat, "he has fully recovered."
"I know." Elias loosened his tie, "Lausanne's report was sent to me this afternoon."
"Thank you, Elias." Emma turned around and looked at him sincerely.
"Just a contract." He said casually, but those golden eyes were locked firmly on her, "So, the 'contract' is complete. You're free, Emma. The door isn't locked."
Emma's heart skipped a beat.
She looked at him, this monster who had once forcibly entered her life, destroyed everything she had, and then saved everything for her.
She slowly walked forward, stood on her tiptoes, and voluntarily kissed his cold lips.
"I'm not leaving," she said softly, "unless you drive me away."
Elias's breath caught. He suddenly pulled her into his arms, that possessiveness so intense it almost crushed her bones.
"Never say that word," he warned hoarsely.
He carried her toward the bedroom.
He placed her on the bed and, as usual, began to undo the cuffs of his shirt. Emma knew this "ritual." She obediently lay down and pulled open the collar of her robe, revealing that familiar, smooth neck.
But just as Elias was about to lean down, Emma suddenly grabbed his hand.
"Elias..."
He stopped, a flash of confusion and suppressed "displeasure" in his eyes.
"I was wondering..." Emma began nervously, a question she had been pondering for a long time, ever since she had met his ageless, undying "family," "if... I mean if. If someday, I... became like you."
Elias froze. He knew what she was asking.
"The Embrace."
"If I became a Vampire," Emma's eyes were filled with fear she hadn't even noticed herself, "would my blood... 'turn cold'? Would it... no longer 'taste good'?"
She asked with such caution.
What she feared was not immortality, nor death. What she feared was that in this extreme, morbid intimacy between them, she would lose her only "value" to him.
If she was no longer "delicious," would he still hold her like this at night?
Elias gazed at her, and in those eyes that had lived for six centuries, a flash of emotion so complex passed through. There was shock, understanding, and even a hint of... heartache.
He leaned down, but did not kiss her neck.
He kissed her lips.
This kiss carried no desire, just a gentle, cold touch, like a brand being pressed.
"Emma," he whispered, his forehead against hers, "did you think that all I craved was your 'taste'?"
"What I taste is 'fire,' your 'mortal form.' I don't know what your immortal blood would taste like. Perhaps it would lose that 'vibrancy,' perhaps it would become... bland."
Emma's heart sank sharply.
"However," he continued, his voice hoarse, "what we gain will be 'everything.'"
"What I taste now is merely your 'life.' After the Embrace, I will taste your 'soul.' We will establish a true bond. Your joy, your sorrow, your thoughts will be completely shared with me. We will truly become one, in eternity."
He gently caressed her cheek.
"Your human blood, that precious 'vitality,' I will miss it. But, Emma..."
His gaze became incredibly deep.
"I would rather give up this delicacy to exchange for eternity shared with you."
Emma's tears began to flow.
"However," Elias added, his lips curving into that familiar, cold arc, "I am a greedy creature. I want both your eternity and to savor your 'flame' for as long as possible."
He gently pushed her down.
"So, Anam Cara, before you are completely ready to give up your mortal body and truly become my 'companion'..."
His face was buried in the crook of her neck, and that icy breath made her tremble.
"...I will, as always, enjoy my 'feast.'"
His fangs pierced her skin.
Emma did not scream.
She closed her eyes, and in that familiar, dizzying pleasure, actively and with all her might, embraced this eternal monster who belonged to her.
