Bloody Mate

The air in the dungeon was suffocatingly still, only occasionally broken by the distant echoes of shifting stones or the low growl of creatures lurking in the shadows. Michael and Valencia made their way down a narrow corridor, the walls damp and covered with ancient glyphs that glowed faintly in the dim light.

Michael glanced at Valencia. Ever since they had escaped the ghastly apparition, she'd been quieter than usual, her steps more deliberate, her crimson eyes flickering with something… darker. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed since her revival, something deeper than just her appearance.

Valencia, with her jet-black hair streaked with scarlet, moved with an eerie elegance, her every step as silent as death. Her mana radiated off her in waves, a constant reminder of the immense power she now wielded as a Vampire Progenitor. But it was more than that. There was something else. A hunger that lingered just beneath the surface, almost like a predator waiting to strike.

As they continued, Valencia abruptly stopped, her head tilting to the side as if she'd heard something beyond the physical world. Her hand slowly raised to her throat, and Michael saw her expression shift—just for a moment—into something he hadn't seen before: longing.

"What is it?" Michael asked, breaking the silence.

Valencia didn't respond immediately. Her lips parted, revealing her unnervingly sharp canines, and for a second, her eyes flared with an unnatural brightness. She shook her head as if brushing off the moment. "It's… nothing. Just—this place is getting to me."

Michael frowned, his instincts telling him otherwise. "Are you sure?"

She turned toward him, her eyes now clear, though the intensity remained. "Yes. Just stay close."

But as they pushed further into the depths of the dungeon, the tension between them thickened. Michael felt his own power growing heavier, the weight of his Overlord of Death title pushing against his thoughts, urging him to embrace his role. The dungeon's malevolent energy seemed to be feeding off both of them.

Suddenly, they entered a large, open chamber. It was different from the rest of the dungeon—cold, vast, and echoing with a strange, unsettling energy. In the center of the room stood an altar, similar to the one they'd seen earlier, but this one was draped in red fabric and surrounded by broken glass.

Valencia approached it first, her eyes locked onto the shattered remnants of something ancient. She reached out, fingers brushing the glass.

"Don't," Michael warned, but his words felt hollow, as if they couldn't reach her.

Before he could react, Valencia's hand closed around one of the shards, and as she did, the ground beneath them began to tremble. The air thickened with magic, and the glyphs on the walls blazed to life.

A haunting whisper echoed through the chamber. Michael tensed, preparing to summon his necromantic powers, but Valencia didn't seem to notice the change. Her focus remained on the altar, her eyes darkening as if she was falling deeper into something only she could feel.

Suddenly, shadows began to gather at the far end of the room, coalescing into a figure—a creature, half-human, half-beast, its form wreathed in darkness and dripping with malevolent energy. It snarled, its eyes locked onto Michael and Valencia.

Michael's hand instinctively reached for his weapon, but before he could act, Valencia stepped forward.

"Wait," she said, her voice low, almost a growl.

The creature paused, as if recognizing something in her, something it feared.

Michael glanced at her, his confusion mounting. "What are you—?"

Valencia raised a hand, her crimson eyes now glowing brighter than before. Her aura darkened, twisting, and for the first time, Michael saw it—saw her—for what she was becoming. The vampire in her was no longer just a part of her. It was starting to consume her.

Without hesitation, she raised her other hand and cast a spell Michael had never seen before. Dark tendrils of magic, tainted with blood, erupted from her fingertips, wrapping around the creature. It struggled, thrashing against the bonds, but Valencia's power was overwhelming. She muttered something under her breath, a language Michael couldn't understand, and the tendrils tightened.

The creature let out a final, agonizing wail before collapsing into a pile of bones and ash.

Michael watched in stunned silence as Valencia stood over the remains, her breathing heavy, her eyes wild with the rush of power. For a moment, she looked… triumphant.

But then something shifted. The air around them grew colder, and Valencia's expression flickered with doubt. She turned to Michael, her hands trembling.

"I… I didn't mean to—" Her voice wavered, the confidence from moments ago replaced by fear.

Michael stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're still in control."

Valencia shook her head, backing away slightly. "No, it's… it's getting harder. Every time I use this power, I feel it—this hunger, this need to… to take more."

Her words hung between them, and Michael's heart sank. He knew what she meant. The Progenitor in her wasn't just a title—it was a curse. One that was slowly creeping into her mind, her soul.

"We'll figure it out," Michael said, trying to sound reassuring, though his own doubts gnawed at him.

But Valencia's gaze lingered on the altar, her hands clenching into fists. "What if I can't stop it? What if… what if I become something else entirely?"

Michael didn't have an answer. All he could do was stand there, watching as the woman he had fought so hard to revive struggled with the very power that had saved her.

He took a deep breath. "We'll find a way. Together."

Valencia met his eyes, and for a moment, the darkness in her flickered, replaced by the warmth he knew so well. But the shadows were never far behind. She nodded, though her expression remained distant.

The moment Valencia lunged, everything slowed.

Michael barely registered her movement until it was too late. Her crimson eyes, glowing with a mix of desperation and something far more primal, locked onto him. His body tensed as her fangs pierced the skin of his neck, a sharp, searing pain followed by an almost euphoric numbness spreading through him.

His first instinct was to shove her away, but something inside him hesitated. This wasn't an attack. He could feel it—this was something deeper, more intimate. Her body pressed against his, her breaths ragged, and for a moment, Michael felt as though he was sharing her pain, her hunger, and the overwhelming weight of her transformation.

Valencia's grip tightened, her fangs sinking further into his flesh, drawing out more of his blood. Michael's vision began to blur at the edges, the world tilting as weakness set in, but he still couldn't bring himself to stop her.

He knew, deep down, that this wasn't the curse overtaking her. This was something far more primal, something that tied their fates together in ways neither of them could fully comprehend.

The flow of blood slowed, and finally, Valencia pulled back, her lips stained crimson, her eyes wide with realization. She stumbled backward, staring at him in horror, her hand covering her mouth as though she couldn't believe what she'd just done.

"I… I didn't mean to—" she whispered, her voice trembling. The fierce glow in her eyes began to dim, replaced by the familiar warmth that Michael had fought so hard to revive.

Michael staggered but managed to catch himself, pressing a hand to his neck. The wound was already starting to close, his unnatural healing kicking in, but the mark—Valencia's mark—remained, a reminder of the bond they now shared.

"It's... okay," he rasped, his voice hoarse from the blood loss, but the words felt inadequate. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but something inside him had shifted. He could feel her presence more acutely now, a thread that connected them on a level that transcended physical space.

Valencia's breathing was heavy, her eyes filled with regret and confusion. "I don't understand… I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to hurt you, Michael. I just—" She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I felt like I had to."

Michael swallowed, the dull ache in his neck fading. He stepped toward her cautiously, his hand reaching for hers. "It's not just the vampire in you, is it?" he asked softly, piecing together what had just transpired.

Valencia looked up, her eyes filled with conflict. "No… It's more than that. It's instinctual. The hunger, yes, but… there's something else. Like I was marking you." Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, she looked more human than he had seen since her transformation.

"Marking me?" Michael repeated, his brow furrowing. The weight of the word settled in his chest, the meaning becoming clearer. "You mean…"

Valencia nodded, her fingers brushing the fresh wound on his neck. "As my mate."

The revelation hit him like a tidal wave, but it made sense. The intensity of her gaze, the pull between them, the way she couldn't control herself—it was all tied to something deeper than just the curse of vampirism. It was primal, ancient. A bond forged through blood and instinct.

Michael's heart pounded in his chest, but it wasn't fear that drove it. He had known Valencia for what felt like an eternity, even if their time together had been fragmented by war, death, and now this dark rebirth. She had always been by his side, and now… now she had marked him as hers.

He looked into her eyes, seeing the fear and guilt there. "Valencia… I'm not afraid of you."

She blinked, as if his words hadn't quite registered. "But I—"

"You didn't hurt me," he said firmly. "You marked me. That's something different."

Valencia bit her lip, her fangs just barely visible. "I didn't want it to happen like this. I didn't want to take your blood. But when I got close to you, something inside me—something in the core of what I've become—just… took over."

Michael nodded, understanding now. It wasn't just a hunger for blood; it was a bond, one that tied them together far beyond what he had ever imagined. "We'll figure this out. Just like we've always done."

He moved closer, reaching out to pull her into an embrace. She stiffened for a moment, as if unsure whether to trust herself, but eventually relaxed into him, resting her head against his chest. Her body was cold, but it didn't matter. He could feel the life within her, the fierce determination she still held despite everything.

As they stood there, the heavy weight of the dungeon pressing in around them, Michael felt something settle in his chest. The mark on his neck pulsed faintly, and with it, a new understanding blossomed between them.

"I won't lose you again," he whispered into her hair.

Valencia pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his. "You won't," she whispered, her voice steady now. "But I don't know what this means for us, Michael. The bond… it's powerful. I don't know how it will change things."

Michael offered her a small, reassuring smile. "Then we'll figure it out. Together."

Valencia's eyes softened, her hands tightening their grip on his shirt. "Together," she agreed.

As the tension between them eased, they both knew that this was just the beginning. The bond forged between them was not something that could be undone, nor would it be simple. But for now, they had each other, and that was enough.

The shadows of the dungeon still loomed large around them, but for the first time in what felt like forever, they faced the darkness not as separate individuals, but as one—bound by blood, power, and a love that defied death itself.

With a renewed sense of determination, Michael took Valencia's hand, and together, they stepped deeper into the dungeon, ready to face whatever came next.