Chapter 3038: Blood‑Stained Addiction 14

The first strike landed on Saiyin's shoulder; the sound wasn't particularly loud, but it was enough to leave a vivid red mark on Saiyin's porcelain-white skin.

The fabric of the night robe was lifted by the whip's tip, revealing more of his pale skin.

That red stripe lay across it, the brilliant color contrasting shockingly with the surrounding cold-white skin, giving off a bizarre yet decadent beauty.

Saiyin trembled, not just from pain.

Each strike of the whip felt like it lashed his proud self-esteem and icy body, triggering a stress response.

"Hmph…… bastard……"

Saiyin cursed aloud, but it carried no menace at all.

Jin Chen's technique wasn't gentle, nor was it random beating without method; each lash landed on his well-proportioned muscles, enough to leave a clear, lasting mark.

Saiyin's whiny noises were somewhat over the top—not like pained groans; each sound was drawn out, with the tail slightly rising.

Jin Chen didn't intend to make him suffer too much; this game wasn't a punishment from the start, and after Saiyin's initial struggle, Jin Chen seemed to have grasped the rules of this admonition game.

When the whip came down, there were times he couldn't bear it.

When that thin pinkish red mark built up, turning almost into a rouge-colored stain, Saiyin's body began to show contradictory reactions.

He both wanted to evade and to welcome it.

He feared the burning pain of the whip's impact, yet anticipated the lingering sensation that would spread afterward; his blood-red eyes veiled with moisture, looking somewhat hazy and unfocused, not fully awake.

At this point, Jin Chen would bring his bloodied, bitten wrist to Saiyin's lips, his fingers pressing slightly to open the fresh wounds; scarlet fluid seeped out, drop by drop sliding down his pale skin along the wrist's curve, tracing a few fine Distorted lines on the back of his hand.

"Good, open your mouth."

Saiyin took the bleeding wound into his mouth, sucking the blood, his throat constantly working; his body trembled slightly as he drank.

Jin Chen let him drink; after a few sips, the pain and bloodlust eased, Saiyin's motions gradually calmed into a lingering lick, at which point Jin Chen would withdraw his wrist and then raise the whip again.

He would travel along the undulating marks, take a sip of blood, and the cycle repeated.

In the rhythm, Saiyin's body grew soft and compliant, even developing a fear—fear of losing control, and fear of the secret longings in his mind.

Between each lashing and the next, his mind would imagine where the whip might fall, picturing whether that damned slave's hand would, after the strike, rest upon that trace and gently stroke it with his fingertip.

Saiyin's back broke out in large patches of pale pink, vivid red stripes crisscrossing atop it like flowers blooming wildly across a snowy field against his white base.

And Jin Chen's wrist had been repeatedly torn open by Saiyin's sharp teeth, becoming bloody, covered in deep and shallow tooth marks, with scarlet fluid slowly oozing from the wounds.

When another lash fell, Saiyin let out a whining moan, instinctively turning toward Jin Chen's wrist, opening his mouth to reveal his yearning fangs.

A plump bead of blood slowly seeped from the edge of Jin Chen's wrist wound, stretching into a thin thread that wound down from Saiyin's sweat-damp neck, twining around the red mark on his waist.

In the dim light, the overly intense color was the scarlet blood line at his waist, Jin Chen's hand gripping Saiyin's chin revealing blue veins beneath, the tangled rumpled sheets, the blood‑marked pale body on the bed, and the silver‑haired beauty standing at the bedside…

Saiyin looked already somewhat dazed and compliant, his blood‑colored eyes half‑closed; even after repeatedly drinking blood, he would instinctively avoid spots too painful to bear.

The whip marks left by Jin Chen also held a special power.

Ordinary wounds would almost instantly heal the moment the whip left Saiyin's skin—being a pure‑blood Count—and vanish shortly after, but the red marks Jin Chen left clung stubbornly to his flesh, showing no sign of fading; instead, over time they grew ever more vivid against his pale skin.

The red stripes merged into patches, mingling with the winding scarlet, as if clusters of roses had bloomed across Saiyin's white body.

Saiyin also gradually felt weak.

He could hardly endure it any longer; his body trembled minutely, his bound wrists hung limp, and even his strength to struggle seemed to be draining away.

Suddenly, the whip in Jin Chen's hand paused, and he lowered his head to look.

Saiyin had at some point turned his face slightly, licking the deep tooth marks on Jin Chen's wrist that he had repeatedly bitten open, the blood‑smudged scars, utterly docile.

An unusual dampness lingered on the back of Jin Chen's hand.

Is it the blood clan's Tears?

Jin Chen stared at that droplet for a moment, then lowered his head, bringing his lips close to Saiyin's eye corner, gently kissing away that droplet, which was no different from a human's tear.

Saiyin lifted his wet eyes, looking somewhat bewildered at Jin Chen, while Jin Chen finally cast aside the whip.

He sat beside the bed, gently enveloping Saiyin's faintly trembling pale form in his arms, soothingly patting his back covered in red marks, and when he spoke his voice came out low and hoarse from satisfaction: "Count."

Saiyin blinked open his hazy eyelashes, suddenly noticing something odd on his shoulder.

Jin Chen bit through his shoulder.

At an angle Saiyin couldn't see, sharp fangs extended, piercing the thin layer of skin on his shoulder.

Jin Chen curiously sucked a small mouthful, savoring it slowly; he seemed not to need blood to gain appetite or satisfaction.

Saiyin could not think now, unaware of Jin Chen's skill in drinking blood; he only felt a dazed tingling at his shoulder, making his fingertips curl involuntarily to clutch Jin Chen's disheveled white robe collar, resisting yet enjoying.

"You…… do you want to be embraced by me for the first time?"

Jin Chen slowly withdrew his fangs, lifted his head, and his gaze returned to Saiyin's face.

At this moment, Saiyin's eyes were wet and blood‑red, the corners flushed with a weeping‑red hue, drooping weakly downward; he looked like a fragile, pitiful creature shaken by some great fright, utterly lacking the usual arrogance and cruelty of the lofty Count.

The lofty Count…

How pitiful.

Jin Chen felt a little Soft-hearted, lightly stroking Saiyin's sweat‑damp, tangled hair; Saiyin's head sank slightly under his touch, his blood‑colored eyes half‑closed.