Chapter 212 In bed with the psycho

Asher trembled at the sudden kiss from Ezekiel. The taste of Zeke's lips on his was everything he never imagined. Instinctively, he grabbed Zeke's back and took over, sucking the hell out of Ezekiel's lips.

The kiss was wild. Asher, who wasn't used to it, suddenly became an expert, and Zeke, who had taken the initiative, dived in deeper with his tongue, opening the way to Asher's. Their tongues intertwined like a tightly knotted rope.

Asher turned breathless for a moment, and finally, coming to his senses, he grimaced, realizing they were still in the bloody cell. Embarrassed, he turned away from Zeke.

"Hmm… Zeke, can we leave here? And why would you do that? Gosh, you just took advantage of how dashing you look and came at me, knowing fully well you're irresistible," Asher retorted, obviously shy, his cheeks a deep shade of red.

Ezekiel grinned, finding it entertaining. "Really? I never knew you found me so delicious. Like, who wouldn't? I don't mind being on the menu—eat me all you want, I'm all yours."

Zeke's shameless reply made Asher feel even more embarrassed, but something dampened the moment. He looked around at the gruesome scene—the mangled bodies of the witches and vampires who had crossed them. Silence settled between them until Ezekiel broke it.

"Can we leave, Asher? I can't stand the stench of the corpses around," Zeke said, his face paler than before.

Asher nodded. He didn't want to stay any longer—the haunting faces of the witches unsettled him.

"Where are we going? Straight to class?" Asher asked. Zeke's absence had been questioned, and returning would make things easier. But even though Asher had a lot of questions, especially about how Ares had managed to capture Zeke, he couldn't comprehend it.

"Do you have a question? If you do, ask away. If not, walk faster unless you want more vampires arriving. As I recall, vampires are lovers of vengeance. They won't take kindly to someone killing their people—especially their king. So talk and walk faster," Zeke warned while walking ahead.

Asher, trailing behind, tried to find the right words but, failing, gave up.

"Never mind. I don't think this is the right time," he muttered.

Zeke turned back, his gaze unwavering. He grinned. "You look lost, Asher. What's happening—"

Suddenly, Zeke stopped abruptly. His eyes turned a bright crimson, shocking Asher. But that wasn't all—Zeke clutched his head and began yelling in pain. This was unlike him. Definitely unlike him.

"Ezekiel! What's happening? Are you alright? Talk to me!" Asher rushed forward.

He reached out and touched Zeke's neck and forehead—and froze.

Zeke's forehead was ice-cold. Too cold for a human.

It felt like touching a block of ice—one that had been frozen solid for centuries.

"Zeke, I don't understand! What should I do? Can I call someone? This is getting bad!" Asher panicked.

Not only was Zeke drifting away, but his once-handsome face was becoming paler—so pale that it frightened Asher to his core. His red eyes lightened into an eerie shade, making his features even more ghastly.

Desperate, Asher grabbed Zeke's dangerously cold hands, closed his eyes, and focused. A powerful light enveloped them, swirling furiously before sinking into Asher's body. Within seconds, they vanished, leaving only shimmering remnants in the air, carrying the scent of divinity.

The light reappeared inside a dark room, illuminating it with a powerful glow. Within moments, the two landed on the floor—Zeke collapsing immediately, his face deathly pale, dark circles heavy beneath his eyes.

Summoning all his strength, Asher attempted to lift Zeke onto the bed, nearly falling countless times. How the hell can one person be this heavy? Zeke felt like several bags of rice. But, then again, he wasn't an ordinary human.

Stumbling toward the bed, Asher finally collapsed, but Zeke's body fell beside him, pinning him down. Asher gasped in terror—the weight was too much to bear.

Something felt different about Zeke. Was it his demeanor? The eerie whiteness of his face?

Once he finally managed to lay Zeke down, Asher fell onto his side, exhausted.

In that moment, Zeke stirred, his tongue slightly slipping out in his sleep.

Asher, facing him, was struck by his beauty. He couldn't help but want to stroke Zeke's disheveled hair, which was now wildly out of place. Gosh… why does he look like one of those Greek gods?

Sadness filled Asher's heart. He was conflicted. At first, it had been Ezekiel. Then, his bastard of a heart had swayed toward Jeremy. And now? Just when he thought he was over Ezekiel, his feelings returned tenfold.

This was the same person who had saved him back at his previous high school. The one who had fought for him, protected him—even without knowing him. It was no wonder Asher had always felt drawn to him.

"You know, with you staring like that, I can't sleep."

Zeke's deep voice startled Asher.

Asher frowned. Something about Zeke felt… different. Off.

"I don't know what's happening," Zeke muttered, sitting up. "I'm starving. And every time I look at you, all I see is a bag of blood I want to suck dry."

Asher shuddered. Was he serious? Could Zeke be a vampire?

Zeke turned his back on Asher, gripping his hair with both hands.

"Ever since my encounter with the Red Oak tree, I haven't been myself," he admitted. "And now, having encountered death twice… if I die again, it'll be permanent."

Zeke spoke so nonchalantly that Asher was baffled.

"You're saying… if you die again, it'll be for real?"

"Yeah."

"But… aren't you immortal? You're supposed to be a vampire, right?" Asher asked carefully, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

Zeke fell back onto the bed, his crimson eyes locked onto Asher's.

"Yes, I am a vampire. But the Oak tree did something to me. I'm not an ordinary vampire. And unfortunately, I'm not immortal. That means I can die just like any normal human."

Asher processed this, but Zeke suddenly changed the subject.

"I miss your room—the strawberry scent, the neatness. Everything's always in order," Zeke murmured in admiration.

Asher sighed. "I just wish our lives weren't so messy."

"But unfortunately, fate has other plans," Zeke said softly. "Asher… can I sleep by your side? I'm freezing. Your warmth might help."

Asher had never seen Ezekiel so vulnerable. Was it what had happened in the cell? Or his encounter with the Oak tree? He didn't know.

But one thing was clear: he would forever be indebted to Slyvia. Somehow, she had managed to do what no one else could—destroy the Dark Trench and bring them out alive.

Grateful beyond words, Asher indulged Zeke, moving closer. They ended up cuddling, and Asher could feel the biting cold radiating from Zeke's body.

Zeke sighed, relishing the warmth. Within minutes, he drifted off to sleep.

Asher, however, remained awake. His eyes trailed downward—toward it.

His naughty mind whispered dangerous ideas.

He hesitated. Wouldn't that make me a slut?

Screw it.

Without waiting for Zeke to wake up, Asher reached out and massaged the bulge in his pants.

He watched as Zeke's length twitched, stiffening within the fabric of his gray sweatpants.

Oh my god.

Ezekiel was huge.

And Asher couldn't stop staring.