I Replaced My Bratty Blood Servant - Chapter 3

“Keep them!”

The door slammed hard enough to shake the frame. Fael stalked away with his nose in the air, like a chicken breathing fire.

I stood there wondering whether I had been too cruel when Evan suddenly cried out.

I whipped around. His injured hand had begun to bleed.

I rushed to fetch something to staunch it, but he caught my wrist. He curled his fingers into a fist, and blood welled eagerly between them.

It smelled wonderful.

Now that our bond had formed, Evan’s blood was the finest nourishment in the world to me. I swallowed without meaning to.

Rather loudly.

That was terribly immoral. His hand was hurt, and here I was craving his blood.

Sian, have some principles. Don’t be a bottomless vampire.

I set off for the first-aid kit with iron determination, only for Evan to pull me back again.

“An-An, you can make the wound heal quickly.”

I asked how.

Evan laughed softly, pressed me down, and guided me through the door to an entirely new world.

At the very end, I lay there dazed, thinking, So a blood servant can be used like this too.

After that, my newly awakened body became insatiable. Evan was a learned teacher, and every day he taught his foolish student something new.

The living room. The sofa. The bath. The floor-to-ceiling windows. The mirror.

Hand in hand, Evan led me into ever deeper realms of discovery. My days grew increasingly full.

Sometimes he took me into the human world. We pretended to be shopkeepers and sold wares, or posed as ranchers and grew fruit and vegetables. Every day brimmed with something new.

I was so grateful Evan had entered my life that I chose a free afternoon to thank Vandro for sending him to me.

The butler told me Vandro was away.

I stared up at the castle’s highest floor, puzzled. Ever since Evan arrived, Vandro had seemed to vanish. I had no idea where he had gone.

A faint suspicion flickered through me, but before I could examine it, I spotted Evan coming to find me.

That day was Marquis Edward’s eightieth-thousandth birthday banquet. I had been invited—and specifically told to bring my new blood servant.

One glance at the invitation told me those people meant no good. I picked up my pen to refuse, but Evan stood behind me, closed his hand over mine, and wrote our acceptance.

I turned and buried my face against his neck. “I don’t want to go,” I mumbled.

He slowly combed his fingers through my hair and asked why. Pressing my lips together, I told him honestly about all their mockery.

“They only invited me so they can laugh at me and amuse themselves.”

Evan smoothed the crease between my brows with a cool fingertip. “Then go and beat them so badly they remember it for the rest of their lives.”

My eyes lit up. “I-I’m allowed to hit them?”

He smiled. “Of course. Your name is Winderman, Sian—the noblest name among vampires.”

That was right. Vandro was a prince. They were only marquises.

My fists itched.

That evening, every marquis of consequence at the banquet wore a bruised and swollen face while fawning over me.

Admittedly, some of my courage came from flaunting another’s power. Even so, it felt fantastic.

On the ride home, Evan and I sat shoulder to shoulder, hands linked, whispering together. He asked why I had endured their treatment before.

I drew up my knees and rested my chin on my arms, suddenly sad.

“I don’t like Vandro.”

Evan went still. A fingertip traced my brows and eyes with impossible gentleness.

“Why?” he asked, very softly.

I hid my face in my arms. My voice came out wounded, part outburst and part confession.

“Because he abandoned me.”