My Stepmom Is a Vampire
Copyright© 2025 by Vamp
Chapter 46: The Feeling of Betrayal
Seamus’ eyes fluttered open, his vision hazy as the light stabbed into his skull. He groaned, blinking slowly, fighting the heaviness in his body.
Every muscle screamed in pain, every nerve burned. His entire frame felt broken, but the familiar blue screen that hovered before his eyes managed to steady the chaos inside him.
[Vital Overflow skill is being used... ]
[Your body is healing by 60%]
[Time until healed properly: 2 hours 30 minutes]
‘Damn ... how long was I out?’ Seamus thought.
He struggled to move a finger, to twitch his arm, but it was as if his body was bound in threads made of iron.
Another notification flickered to life in front of him.
[You are under Viviane’s Hybrid Bloodstyle: The Anguish of Sovereign Inferno (Stage 1 – Control of Fire)]
[With your wounds and the bracelet halting half of your power, you don’t have enough strength to destroy the thread]
‘Bracelet?’ His mind jolted.
He forced his head to turn until his gaze fell on the glint of silver around his wrist. A bracelet sealing his strength.
“Damn you, Viviane,” he muttered.
A calm voice answered from the side of the room. “What is it, Seamus? You still can’t calm down?”
The sound dragged his gaze left. A small table stood near the bed. Viviane sat there, graceful as ever, her hands steady as she poured steaming liquid from a kettle into a delicate floral cup.
The faint scent of chamomile drifted through the air, mocking him with its serenity.
He clenched his teeth. “No. I can’t believe you tried to control me this way. You betrayed me, Viviane!”
His voice cracked. Maybe from the wounds, maybe from the weight crushing his chest. Or maybe it was his heart itself, fracturing.
He had fought through hell, bled, and nearly died to reach this point, only to be stabbed in the back by the one woman he believed in most.
Viviane.
But now? She was the one binding him.
His blood simmered. Hatred and love blurred into something unbearable, a thin blade cutting him from the inside.
“Why can’t you understand that I did it for us!”
Viviane’s voice rose, trembling, desperate. She stood, cup in hand, and approached him. Her golden eyes locked on his, pleading.
“Or ... or are you already in her control?”
He barked a bitter laugh. “I’m not controlled by anyone but you! You and your damn red thread that’s choking me!”
“Go on then, strangle me to death with your so-called love. I dare you!”
Viviane stopped, her frown deepening. Confusion shadowed her features, as if the thought had never once occurred to her that he might resist her, hate her, push her away.
She had believed he would always understand her. Even when she was wrong.
“Seamus, how can you not understand?” she whispered. She set the cup aside, her hands trembling faintly.
“We are already in a blood pact. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel the pain in my heart?”
His hand lifted on its own and brushed her cheek. His expression was tight, his eyes burning with resistance.
“Maybe because you’re always lying, Viviane,” he spat.
All of them–Viviane, Isolde, Madeline–were the same. Manipulators. Wrapping their selfish desires in ribbons of this is for you, this is the best for us. Lies. Every word of it.