Transmigrated Into The Body Of The Cursed Prince Wife
Chapter 121: Sweet blood

Chapter 121: Sweet blood

Without hesitation, Lucian reached out and picked up the book that was at the top of the pile of books he’d brought along with him to the desk. He read the fading title of the book.

THE CURSE OF THE DEMON BEAST VARGOTH.

The book was old, its cover worn and cracked, made from dark leather that had faded over time. Strange symbols, barely visible, were carved into the front. As Lucian opened it in curiosity, the pages felt brittle, as if they might crumble at the touch. Some of the edges were yellowed, with spots where the ink had smudged.

Inside, the pages were filled with drawings of moons in different phases, and symbols that seemed to glow faintly under the light. There were images of a beast, a beast like his, with sharp claws and glowing amber eyes, standing under the red full moon, looking wild and dangerous.

On other pages, there were sketches of what looked like two figures standing together, their hands almost touching, surrounded by swirling lines, as if they were connected by something powerful, but the hands never touched and seemed to be pulled apart by a force, causing a frown to settle on his face as he tried to read and understand what was written under this particular image of hands.

The writing was old and difficult to read, but Lucian could make out some few words like "cursed," "Blood Moon," and "reborn," on the first faded pages.

When he flipped to the next pages, the words became clearer. The demon beast called Vargoth, he read internally, was said to be reborn every thousand years, cursed by the red moon Goddess for a sinful, unforgivable crime he committed. He was cursed to suffer endless rebirth without ever meeting his soulmate. And a Vargoth without a soulmate was as soulless as an object, as lifeless as steel.

Lucian felt a feeling of dread consume him all of a sudden as he looked at the drawing of the beast that looked like him, but even bigger and darker than he was when he shifted.

’Damnation, this is me...’ came the words of his beast from his head. He couldn’t be this cursed whatever, could he? Lucian thought as he read on. Each time the beast was reborn, his heart would darken through time by the experience of life, turning him into a creature of pure destruction, unless he found the one destined to save him from himself.

His lost soulmate, cursed to never cross paths with him until he suffered ten rebirths and went through a tribulation that would darken his heart and bring chaos to every lifetime he was born in before his soul would finally perish, never meeting his other half. And throughout every full moon, he would go through excruciating pain that would make him pray for death rather than be alive. His sin was that unforgiving.

Lucian didn’t like this revelation one bit. If one thing was for certain, he knew without a doubt he had been the one to be born in this lifetime with this curse. He had suffered through the full moon nights where he wished for death, and the destruction part... he had felt it before, he had felt he was born to destroy and ruin every being until... until recently, where he no longer had that thought and feeling as his mind were rather consumed with other thoughts.

His soulmate. He thought with his frown deepening as he flipped through the pages to see if he’d find anything more about the soulmate part and what had been the sin of the Vargoth beast.

But as he flipped the pages, he noticed something strange—some of the most important pages, the ones that would explain how the demon recognizes his soulmate and give more information about the soulmate and curse, were missing. They had been torn out long ago, leaving only jagged edges behind.

Lucian gritted his teeth in annoyance and slammed the book closed, but as he was about to reach out for another book in hopes of finding more information, he stiffened as a familiar scent swirled to his nose, but it came along with a strong scent of blood in the air, and immediately he felt his throat go dry as an unbearable desire to taste that blood filled his senses before he realized that she must have been injured, and shot out of his chair in a flash.

What was she doing here? Lucian wondered as he followed the scent and the closer he got, the stronger the smell of her blood, and the angrier he also got. The wound must be big for the blood scent to be this strong. How did she get injured?

Lucian walked into the row of racks where he heard movement and asked that question without even waiting to see what she was doing in the library.

"How did you get hurt?" he asked, startling her and causing her to drop a book he didn’t bother to look at as his attention was on her and on the hand that was wrapped with a handkerchief, with blood already soaking the handkerchief.

Lucian could feel his canines growing in his mouth at the sight of her blood, but he controlled himself as the thought of how she had gotten injured swirled in his mind. His expression darkened at the thought of someone hurting her, and without hesitation, he strode toward her in long strides and reached out to pull her hands into his and remove the handkerchief to see the deep cut on her palm.

Lucian’s jaw clenched. If this wound was caused by someone and not her carelessness, oh God save that person because he was going to make sure they lost a hand. His expression turned murderous as he demanded, "How did you get this cut?"

Ave, who saw the look in his amber eyes and heard his question, couldn’t help the involuntary shiver that went down her spine. Right now, she didn’t want him to know she had come here in search of a spellbook and she didn’t even know why he cared about her wound, or perhaps why he looked this angry.

She cleared her throat and tried to pull her hand away from his, but he tightened his grip and shot her a dark warning look before he spoke, his lips barely moving as he said, "Don’t make me go and find out how you got this deep cut on your palm and tell me yourself. Did someone hurt you in the palace?"

Lucian had a gut feeling she hadn’t hurt herself this time but that someone else had. For one thing, his senses were so sharp he could smell a faint scent of fragrance he always perceived on Princess Madeline’s body on her, mixed with Princess Isolde’s scent, and if she didn’t speak, he would gladly go and find out from those two, but in a way none of them would like. He didn’t know where this feeling came from, but he couldn’t tolerate her being hurt by someone else.

Ave was at a loss for words as she swallowed hard. Though she didn’t know why he looked and sounded mad at this moment while he demanded how she’d gotten injured, she knew not to tell him the truth as she didn’t want any trouble or even see him in support of his future wife. For some reason, she knew her heart wouldn’t be able to take it. Thus, she pursed her lips and shrugged casually.

"I injured myself in the dining hall when I mistakenly broke a teacup and was picking up the pieces. It’s no big deal."

Ave saw his eyes narrow down at her as if he was trying to gauge whether she was lying or not, and her heart missed a beat when it locked with his. She saw as his expression slowly lost its murderous glint and turned indifferent before his gaze fell on her bleeding palm, which looked ridiculously small in his, and she flinched when he used his other hand to trace the edge of the cut.

She heard him click his tongue as he chided, "You are so clumsy you hurt your palm by picking up broken teacup pieces, and it makes me wonder how you picked it up for it to cut you this deep. Did you clench it in your fists, or did someone force it into your palm?" His gaze met hers, his eyes telling her he didn’t buy her words, but before she could look for another excuse, he brought her palm toward his mouth while his eyes were still locked on hers.

Ave didn’t get to register what he intended to do before she saw his tongue peek out of his mouth and run down the length of her palm. She shuddered and instinctively tried to pull back her hand, but he tightened his grip around it to keep her still. With his eyes not moving away from hers, she felt the warm wet sensation of his tongue as he licked her blood, and an electric jolt went through her nerves when his eyes seemed to roll like her blood was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.

Though her palm had been hurting earlier, the way he was licking her blood off the wound with his eyes not wavering from hers almost made the pain non-existent, and another feeling consumed her whole body.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, her voice coming out almost breathlessly as his mouth now sucked on the palm to draw more blood from her wound. She almost thought she heard a slow, throaty groan escape from his mouth against her palm. She shivered slightly as warmth seemed to explode inside her, and by the time he released her hand, her palm looked pale with no trace of blood on it but just the cut.

Ave’s gaze shot up accusingly towards him. "You don’t look like a vampire, but you act like one. How can you lick my blood like that?" she asked, fighting the thrill that went through her body and made her knees seem weak from the lingering sensation his tongue left on her palm.

She saw a slow, cunning smile pull at his lips, and his amber eyes glimmered brightly as he replied, "It would be a waste to let you keep bleeding when your blood is this sweet." He ran his tongue around his lips to savor the remaining aftertaste he still felt in his mouth, and Ave, whose eyes didn’t miss that action, felt her lower abdomen clench, and she had to swallow hard before she could think straight.

Why did he look so seductive when he licked his lips like that? And why was she feeling something else instead of disgust at the fact that he’d just licked her blood? What was wrong with her senses lately?

These thoughts were still going through her mind when she heard him question, "What are you doing in the library?"

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