Seven Sins System Chapter 515. The Devil's Blood

Seven Sins System Chapter 515. The Devil's Blood

Without hesitation, Red took my wrist in her hands, her grip firm yet reverent, and I felt the soft brush of her breath as she lowered her mouth to my skin. Her fangs extended, and with a swift, precise motion, she bit down, her teeth piercing my flesh. The pain was a brief sting, overshadowed almost instantly by the warmth of her touch, the way she cradled my wrist as if it were something sacred.

I watched as she began to draw my blood, her eyes fluttering shut, her expression one of pure, unfiltered satisfaction. Her body tensed, her fingers pressing into my wrist, and for a moment, she seemed lost in the taste, in the power that flowed from me to her. Her breathing grew heavier, her lips clinging to my skin as though she couldn’t bear to let go.

Penelope and Katrina watched, their initial defiance slipping away. As Red drank from my wrist, I saw their expressions shift. The confidence, the mockery, the skepticism—all of it faded, leaving behind something raw and unguarded. Their eyes locked on the thin, dark trickle of blood that flowed from the bite, their gazes fixed with an intensity that betrayed the struggle brewing inside them. They were trying to resist, to hold on to their pride, but I could see the cracks forming.

Their bodies tensed, muscles coiled tight, hands clenched at their sides as if the simple act of staying still was a feat of immense willpower.

Katrina’s jaw tightened, her lips pressed into a thin line, but her gaze never wavered, fixated on the steady flow of blood, on the way Red drank with such abandon. There was a flicker of something dark in her eyes—an envy, a longing she hadn’t prepared herself to feel.

Penelope’s breathing grew shallow, her chest rising and falling as she watched her mother indulge in a pleasure that was now undeniable, something she’d dismissed only moments ago. But now, seeing it, feeling the heady scent of my blood, that disdain was slowly giving way to need.

Red finally released her fangs from my wrist, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips as she drew back, her eyes heavy-lidded, her face flushed with pleasure. Her fingers loosened their grip on my arm, but her gaze remained fixed on the faint smear of blood left on my skin. She licked her lips, her face was full of satisfaction, as if she’d just tasted something forbidden.

The way Red looked, the sheer bliss etched across her face, was too much for them to ignore. Penelope’s eyes flickered, her resolve wavering as she shifted her stance, her gaze dropping briefly to the floor before snapping back to my wrist, where the two bite marks still gleamed.

Katrina bit her lip, her fingers twitching as she stared, torn between her pride and the instinctive need that my blood had awoken in her. They were trapped.

I flicked my gaze at the twins, letting a smirk play across my lips, enjoying the subtle unraveling of their control. “You want it, don’t you?” I asked, my voice low.

Their expressions twisted, caught between resistance and surrender, but neither of them could tear their eyes away from my wrist. I could feel the tension, the way their bodies leaned forward, just slightly, drawn to the scent of my blood. They were fighting it, but their eyes told me everything—they were losing, bringing them closer to a hunger they hadn’t acknowledged until now.

I extended my wrist toward them, the open bite marks still fresh, the faint trickle of blood beading along the edges. Their gazes locked onto it, the allure too potent, too raw to ignore.

Without a word, I clenched my fist, letting the blood well up, a dark crimson drop sliding from the wound and dripping onto the table with a soft, resonant sound. The sight, the scent, the pure essence of it—everything about it seemed to erode their last shreds of restraint.

Katrina’s breathing grew ragged, her fists clenching and unclenching as she fought to maintain her composure. Her eyes were wild, the carefully constructed mask of indifference cracking as she stared, lips parted, her gaze flickering between my wrist and her mother, who sat there with that look of satisfaction still lingering on her face. Penelope swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as she tried to tear her gaze away, but it was useless; her eyes kept darting back.

“Go on,” I murmured, my voice soft, the words laced with dark invitation. “Take what you want. Don’t fight it.”

Penelope and Katrina exchanged a fleeting glance, but it was clear that they were both caught in a trance. They moved slowly, hesitantly, as though walking toward the edge of a cliff, yet unable to stop. Their initial defiance had crumbled, replaced with a hunger that they didn’t understand, but couldn’t ignore.

They came closer, their breaths shallow, their eyes glazed with a mix of fear, fascination, and need. It was as if they were moths drawn to a flame, unable to resist the allure of something that would consume them, even if it destroyed them.

I watched them with a calm, almost clinical detachment, letting them inch closer, watching the internal battle play out in every step, every reluctant movement. But the pull was too strong; they were losing, and they knew it.

Katrina’s hand trembled as she reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of the table, as though grounding herself for a moment before taking the final step. Penelope’s gaze was fixed solely on the blood that pooled along my wrist, her lips parted slightly, her breathing heavy as she wrestled with the instinctive craving that had taken hold of her.

I extended my other arm, my gaze steady as I offered them what they so desperately wanted, yet feared.

Katrina was the first to break, her eyes darkening as she moved closer, her hand reaching out tentatively. She hesitated, her fingers hovering just above my wrist, as though giving herself one last chance to resist.