Chapter 8

As soon as the words fell, the furniture ran in groups towards the basement. The castle hall became empty in an instant, leaving only the plates and spoons without hands or feet. I intended to run into the basement with the furniture, but seeing this scene, I hesitated for a moment and helped Mrs. Teapot put them into the cupboard.

I thought this wouldn’t take much time. Unexpectedly, just after escorting the cutlery back to the cupboard, I saw a tall black shadow leap down from the third floor. My heart tightened, and I immediately ran in the opposite direction.

Lambert supported himself on the ground with one hand, breathing heavily. His pupils had turned uncontrollably blood-red, showing no trace of rational emotion. He hung his head low, his ears twitching like a hunting leopard, his sharp, hooked nails deeply embedded in the floor, exuding a strong sense of danger.

Behind the spiral staircase, there was a small room, probably prepared for the night watchman. I ran over, grabbed the doorknob, and shook it twice. It didn’t open. In those two seconds of delay, Lambert was already standing behind me. His vision seemed to have deteriorated significantly. Even though I stood in front of him, his eyes showed no change. Instead, he flared his nostrils, carefully sniffing my scent. His transformation into a beast was more severe than I had imagined, with black scales spreading like a plague, almost covering his entire body, and the bones in his fingers could no longer bend like a normal human’s.

I took a step back, slowly crouching down, trying to escape under his arm. His head, however, turned with my movements.

The clock on the wall suddenly said, “It’s useless. He isn’t using his eyes to see you now but is identifying your position based on the heat your body emits. You can’t escape.”

Lambert heard the sound and “looked” towards the clock. It immediately shut its mouth tightly, not even daring to swing its pendulum.

The heat emitted from my body? Does that mean if my body gets cold, he won’t be able to see me?

There are two ways to make my body cold: one is to run outside the castle, and the other is — to take off my clothes.

Thank goodness, today I was only wearing a thin cotton shirt and pants, which are easier to take off than a dress. However, as soon as I unbuttoned one button, he keenly sensed it and pounced on me, pinning me to the ground. His nails were too sharp and tore my clothes. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. The smell of blood filled the air. He had scratched my shoulder.

Bleeding at this moment was obviously not a good thing. I saw him lower his head, his eyes still unfocused, but his Adam’s apple moved as if he was swallowing.

My scalp tingled. What did he want to do? Drink my blood?

“Lambert…” I tried to communicate with him, “Can you hear me?”
His eyes were vacant, but his ears twitched. I wasn’t sure if he heard me.

The smell of blood surged in the air. His head lowered even more, his nose almost touching mine. His skin was as cold as ice, but his breath was as hot as fire. I couldn’t help but shiver, goosebumps rising on my arms. My trembling seemed to pique his interest. His pupils turned an even deeper red, his lips moved slightly, and his tongue flicked out like a snake’s, almost touching my cheek.

Seeing his head getting lower and about to reach my shoulder, I gritted my teeth and called him again, “Lambert…”

He didn’t respond.

In a flash, I dabbed a bit of blood with my fingertip and brought it to his lips. His head immediately followed my finger. Taking this chance, I quickly got up from the ground and ran towards a more spacious area. Unfortunately, this method was only a temporary fix; within seconds, he was following me like a shadow.

While running, the blood from my shoulder accidentally dripped onto the ground. I have to say, nobility is innate. Even though he had lost his sanity, he didn’t disgracefully lick the blood off the ground but knelt on one knee, dipped a finger in it, and brought it to his lips. If it weren’t for his lifeless eyes, I would have thought he had regained his senses. Watching him slowly lick my blood, a strange feeling spread in my heart.

Too strange…

Suppressing this odd feeling, I used the spots where my blood had dripped to guide him up to the second floor. I casually pushed open a room door, tricked him inside, then walked to the door, ready to escape. Whether it was the allure of my blood or something else, he grabbed my wrist and pinned me against the wall, his cold lips sliding down my neck to find the wound on my shoulder.

Feeling his lips cover my wound, my whole body stiffened, and I weakly pushed his head: “Lambert… let go of me, don’t drink my blood…”

By the light of the corridor lamp, I saw a bright red layer of my blood on his lips. Maybe it was the shock, but my limbs grew weaker, and breathing became more difficult, feeling as if he was draining all my blood. No, if this continues, I will really die at his hands. I must save myself. But how can I save myself?

Not far away, there was a gilded candlestick that looked heavy. If I hit the back of his head with all my strength, it should knock him out. It all depends on whether I have the strength.

I wrapped one arm around his neck and reached for the candlestick with the other. At that moment, I saw him rest his forehead on my shoulder and lick my wound with his snake-like tongue, pausing for two seconds before licking again.

He wasn’t drinking my blood, so what was he doing?
Healing me? Comforting me?

“Lambert,” I called softly, “are you conscious?”

He focused on licking my wound, ignoring me.

I patted his cheek. He glanced at me and then licked my palm. The hand he licked went numb. I shook my hand, a bit speechless: “I didn’t mean for you to lick me…”

He stared at me without blinking, his gaze as pure as a real animal’s. My heartbeat quickened under his gaze. I thought for a moment and asked, “Are you hungry?”

He didn’t answer but lowered his head again to lick my wound, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed. It seemed he was starving. Unsure if he could understand me, I tentatively asked, “How about I go get you something to eat?”

He didn’t react much. Does this mean he agreed?

I carefully pushed him away a bit. He still didn’t react. I breathed a sigh of relief and pushed him away completely, heading towards the door.

The next second, he growled and pounced on me, his eyes turning cold and ferocious. His thick, bony hands gripped my wrists tightly, not allowing me to move an inch.

What is this? I felt a headache coming on.

“I’ll be back soon,” I promised. “I’ll just get some food and come back.”

He stared at me coldly, his hot breath spraying on my face, but his grip loosened a bit. He didn’t speak, so I couldn’t be sure if he was conscious.

After a moment of stalemate, under his icy gaze, I slowly withdrew one hand and waved it in front of him. His eyes moved left and right, and then he impatiently grabbed my hand.

He should be conscious…

I thought for a moment, took a deep breath, and withdrew both hands to wrap them around his neck. He continued to stare at me coldly. I pressed his head down and whispered in his ear, “Even if you’re not hungry, I am. Please, let me go get something to eat. I’ll be back soon.” After saying this, I planted a light kiss on his cheek covered with black scales.

He looked at me for a long, long time. When I thought he agreed to let me go, he suddenly lowered his head and covered my lips with his cold ones. It was an uncontrolled kiss as if he had lost his sanity, invading my mouth like a storm, repeatedly biting my lower lip. For a moment, I almost thought he wanted to tear a piece of flesh from my lips and tongue.

Fortunately, he wasn’t that crazy. After a while, he finally let go of me and pointed to the door.

I wiped my lips and stood up, blushing. This man… he was conscious after all!

As I was about to walk out the door, I turned back and said to him, “Shameless.”

Then I watched his expression change. He tilted his head in confusion.