"Looks like you want another taste of the frying pan, huh?" Damon glanced at her, seizing the opportunity while she was weak. He had no qualms about being rough again.
Though Elena was in a fragile state, Damon didn't forget that, at her core, she was a cold-blooded, ruthless, and prideful vampire—one that exuded dominance through her very bones.
Sure enough, when Elena heard the words "frying pan," her lazy expression briefly froze, and she coldly replied, "You dare?"
Her face darkened. She had never met such an obnoxious human.
Moreover, this man had dragged her back from the alley, right when she was exhausted and hiding to recover from the injuries inflicted during her escape from being hunted! And now he dared to threaten her with a frying pan? It was a humiliation beyond measure!
Elena gritted her teeth. She was desperately craving fresh, warm blood.
The thought of fresh blood slowly flowing through her veins made her open her mouth, revealing sharp, pointed Lunar Trace Teeth. Her dark pupils gradually turned silver-grey, glowing with a chilling, eerie light.
What should she do?
She was really hungry.
That night, the stars were bright, and the pale moonlight streamed through the glass window, spilling onto the crimson floor. The soft light danced and flickered, like mischievous little spots of light.
In the small, eighty-square-meter two-story house, there were two bedrooms. The décor was simple, not luxurious—just a typical office worker's setup.
In the master bedroom, Damon was wrapped in a thin blanket, sleeping soundly. Occasionally, he shifted in his sleep, revealing the sleek lines of his toned abs and the seductive curve of his well-defined torso.
In the guest bedroom, Elena had put on a wig and sat elegantly on the windowsill, holding a makeup mirror and gazing into it, bathed in moonlight.
Everyone has a vanity, and she was no exception.
sigh!
When would her hair grow back?!
The mirror reflected a face that was excessively pale—half of it nearly transparent, revealing the raw, blood-red flesh beneath, along with visible bone.
This was the result of malnutrition from drinking expired blood for too long. It was also a side effect of her body trying to heal itself in an unnatural way.
For eight hours a day, she felt like a normal person. But the rest of the time, her body was in a constant state of physical decay.
Elena gently bit her fingertip, her gaze turning toward the moonlight outside the window, feeling a quiet frustration building within her.
Hungry! So hungry!
In fact, vampire blood was far more delicious than human blood. The purer the vampire's bloodline, the more exquisite it tasted.
But she couldn't drink the blood of vampires stronger than herself—her body wouldn't be able to handle it, and she'd die from the agony.
What if she drank her own blood?
Elena bit her fingertip hard.
Crack!
A piece of bone fell to the floor, shattering into white powder and eventually dissolving into dust.
Damn!
Elena's face darkened. There was hardly any blood left in her body—just bones!
"Elena! Keep it down!"
From the next room, Damon's voice was cold as he warned her.
Within a certain range, he could hear a vampire's sounds. He had heard her chewing on her bone.
The next day, Damon wore a plain white shirt paired with black pants, slinging a shoulder bag over his shoulder. He stood before the full-length mirror at the door, adjusting his outfit.
Suddenly, a translucent, pale face appeared in the mirror, horrifying and ghostly.
Elena twisted her lips in distaste, commenting, "Tch! So tacky. Is this what all you teachers wear?"
"Is something wrong with it?" Damon turned around, giving her a cold glance.
Elena leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him. "It ruins the aesthetic."
Damon walked over to the entrance to change his shoes, casually saying, "I'll bring you some blood bags during lunch break. If you're really hungry, you can bite your own fingers again. They'll grow back."
Elena clenched her teeth. How did he know I bit my fingers last night?
"The taste of bones isn't that great," Elena muttered darkly. The pain when her bones and flesh healed together was even worse than when she had cut herself.
"I figured as much." Damon replied indifferently. He wasn't a vampire and had no intention of becoming one.
Elena smiled slyly.
If one day he did become a vampire, she'd be sure to break his legs first, making him experience the agony of chewing on bones.
"You can't leave this door," she said with a mischievous smile.
With that, she heard the door close with a click.
Damon left, heading off to his school to teach.
Elena's expression darkened. Was Damon trying to imprison her? He hadn't killed her or seriously harmed her, but what was his real goal?
She had to figure out what his game was.
But first things first—she was starving.
As Damon drove, he found himself haunted by Elena's "I'm hungry!" resonating in his ears.
Since he was young, he had the natural ability to hear vampires within a certain range. It was a gift, or perhaps a curse.
That night, if he hadn't dragged Elena back to his place, Windy City would have been dealing with a new murder case the next morning. And Elena—the proud, revered Queen of Vampire Clan, the most powerful vampire alive—would have become the primary target for every bounty hunter and vampire hunter out there.
But Elena was his prey. He couldn't allow anyone else to get close to her.
Ten minutes later, Damon arrived at the school and parked his car. Just as he got out, he received a message telling him to go to the principal's office first.
The Vampire Enforcement Agency (VEA) had arrived.
Knock knock!
Damon stood at the principal's office door, raised his hand, and knocked. "Professor, it's Damon."
"Come in."
Inside the office, a man in his fifties sat on the couch—Jay, the principal of Windy City University.
Across from him sat two plainclothes officers.
One of them, a laid-back man named Shawn, was the head of Windy City's police department.
The other was a quiet, delicate-looking man named Clerk, sent from the provincial department. His identity was still confidential.
The three men seemed to be familiar with each other.
Damon stepped inside and addressed the principal. "Mr. Harris, you wanted to see me?"
"Come sit down," Jay patted the seat beside him. "These two are with us. They want to ask you something. Just tell them the truth."
Damon sat beside Jay, his curiosity piqued. "Alright."
Shawn pulled out a folder from his bag and took out a transparent plastic bag containing several photographs of dead bodies. "Mr. Gilbert, these are the recent victims of abnormal deaths in Windy City. They all share one thing in common: they've been drained of their blood and left as dried-up corpses. We're trying to figure out if there's a vampire in Windy City."
Clerk added, "Mr. Gilbert manages the safety of this area. If you could cooperate with us on the investigation, it'd be a huge help. After all, we need to provide the public with a reasonable explanation for these unusual deaths."