When she approached him, she raised her right hand and bit her fingertip.
With a soft "hiss," her skin split open, and a bead of crimson blood imdiately welled up.
The blood trembled at her fingertip, glistening in the sunlight.
Isaac Vaughn stared at the bleeding finger, his brow involuntarily furrowing.
His gaze shifted from the blood bead to Seraphina Caldwell’s face, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
Seraphina raised her hand and looked up at Isaac, who was a head taller than her, her lips twitching slightly.
"Could you squat down a bit?"
She wiggled her finger.
"How am I supposed to drip my blood on you from this height?"
At that mont, his nose was almost touching Seraphina’s forehead, the closeness suffocating.
He exuded a faint scent of seawater, salty and cool, mixed with a hint of herbal freshness.
The sudden proximity made Seraphina’s heart skip a beat.
Her cheeks flushed instantly, the heat spreading from her earlobes to her neck, even the tips of her ears tinged with red.
Instinctively, she wanted to step back but found her feet rooted to the spot.
This guy, his skin was almost translucently white, and his lips were a pale pink.
Clearly, he was a formidable character capable of single-handedly taking down Green Rank beasts, with unfathomable power, yet he had a face that could daze anyone with just a glance.
That kind of face seed born to bewitch hearts.
Even doing nothing, he could easily disrupt soone’s breath.
Seraphina frantically reminded herself.
"He’s the villain! He wants to kill ! He’s the villain!"
Yet the more she warned herself, the more disobediently her heart raced.
Finally, she clenched her jaw and forced her wildly beating heart to calm down.
She took a deep breath, compelling herself to regain composure, her gaze turning cold as she quickly looked away.
Her fingertip trembled slightly, yet she still raised it steadily, pointing at the pale purple Beast Seal on his chest.
"Don’t move; we’re starting."
A bead of bright red blood slowly gathered at her fingertip.
Unable to bear the weight, it finally fell, landing at the center of the pale purple mark.
As soon as the blood bead touched the mark, a faint but clear light suddenly flashed.
A few seconds later, the light slowly faded, as if it had never appeared.
Seraphina withdrew her hand, the wound on her fingertip still oozing blood.
She glanced down at her finger.
Then she looked up, her tone now calm, without a hint of ripple.
"Second ti now. Tomorrow will be the last ti—three tis as promised, no less."
Isaac slowly straightened up, still silent.
But his gaze never left her, remaining quietly fixed on her face.
He saw clearly how she briefly blushed, then forcefully composed herself, her face gradually fading, pretending nothing had happened.
What was she thinking?
Why did her expression change back and forth, sotis embarrassed, sotis feigning calm?
Logically, getting closer to breaking the contract should be sothing to be happy about.
Yet at this mont, there was an inexplicable emptiness in Isaac’s heart.
The void silently spread, unnoticed even by himself.
After dripping blood for Isaac, Seraphina glanced down at her still bleeding fingertip.
The blood bead slowly slid through her fingers, splattering dark red dots on the ground.
She frowned, thinking the wound had broken anyway.
Dripping once more won’t save another cut, better to resolve it all at once now and save so effort.
She lifted her hand and headed straight towards Evan Orwell.
Evan stood still, hands at his sides, the emotions in his eyes not yet fully dispersed.
Watching her focus so intently and seriously while dripping blood for soone else earlier, his heart slightly tightened.
But before he could sort through those complex feelings.
In the next second, she was walking towards him with her bloodied finger outstretched.
The blood bead trickled down through her fingers, hitting the stone pavent with a soft "tap."
"Hurry up, squat down! I’ll drip for you."
Evan’s face changed, not out of fear, nor to dodge.
But utterly stunned, his pupils slightly contracting.
He had thought when she said "next ti," it was just a perfunctory remark.
He never expected she would actually rember.
Even more unexpected, she would take the initiative to co over at this mont.
He didn’t move, nor did he squat; instead, he lowered his head, gently grasping her wrist.
His thumb brushed over her wounded fingertip, suddenly bending down, he unexpectedly used the tip of his tongue to lightly lick that tiny wound.
The warm sensation instantly hit her, and Seraphina froze on the spot.
She stared dumbfounded at Evan, just inches before her.
His usually icy expression, now with lowered lashes, earnestly tending to her wound, was a stark contrast to his usual deanor.
In that instant, he was no longer the indifferent and distant Evan, but a Beast Husband willing to bow his head to tend to her wound.
"You..."
She snapped back to reality abruptly, her face turning bright red, quickly retracting her hand.
Yet Evan’s expression remained calm.
A myriad of thoughts flashed through her mind.
Was it a healing secret technique?
It couldn’t be... a penchant for blood, could it?
The ridiculous speculation startled even herself.
But thinking of those legendary ancient tribal customs, it didn’t seem impossible.
After all, in this wasteland, anything could happen.
She stared a few more seconds, seeing his expression unchanged, she barely steadied her mind, speaking up to explain.
"Yesterday when you helped heal , I promised to drip blood for you..."
Before she finished, Evan subtly furrowed his brows and interrupted her, "There’s no need."
No need?
Does that an he doesn’t want it anymore?
Or is it not needed now?
Her heart skipped a beat, her thoughts once again in turmoil.
But looking at Evan’s indifferent appearance, she ultimately dared not pursue the question further.
She was about to ask when suddenly a figure walked over.
Kneeling down on one knee before her, dispelling the awkward atmosphere.
It was Wyatt Yardley.
Instinctively, Seraphina lowered her gaze, imdiately drawn to the shoes in his hand.
They were won’s ankle boots, simplistic yet exquisite, just capable of covering the ankles.
Delicately crafted, made from Beast Skin.
The leather was faintly grayish-brown, its surface exhibiting a soft matte sheen.
She could even see the tiny indentations left at the stitches.
Signs of prolonged manual sewing.
The shoes contained no tal fittings, relying on hidden fasteners inside for closure, cleverly designed, balancing aesthetics and practicality.
The pattern seed familiar; upon closer inspection, it was indeed the skin of a Great Viperdile.
Even rarer was, this type of snakeskin, after special treatnt, was not only lightweight and breathable but also moisture-proof and corrosion-resistant.
She did indeed have a pair of Beast Skin boots.
But they were too thick, stifling her feet with sweat in such weather.
In the traditional views of the wasteland, females mostly handled logistics and auxiliary work, rarely needing long treks.
Many won ended up not needing too many walking gears.
Over ti, they developed the habit of not liking heavy boots.
Unexpectedly, Wyatt secretly skinned a Viperdile to make her a new pair of shoes.
Reviews
All reviews (0)