Chapter 190

**Elizabeth's POV**

I certainly didn't simply want to take a walk; I was looking for an escape route.

I would not stay here in peace. The vampire king was keeping me safe for now for the sake of the child in my belly.

If I give birth to a girl in the future and make the vampire king lose the bet, he'll most likely get angry and kill me and my baby.

Even if I give birth to a boy and let the vampire king win the bet, he would also kill me when he gets tired of my blood.

Assuming he never gets tired of my blood, then I will probably die from blood loss under his constant demands.

Either way, I would die if I stayed here, and the only way to have a chance to live is to escape.

I noticed that there were vampire warriors standing guard during the day as well. After so many years of evolution, sunlight does not cause fatal damage to vampires, it only makes them feel uncomfortable.

So all the warriors standing guard looked tired and irritable. They must be eager to go back to their rooms and sleep.

The situation is favorable for my escape.

The next day, while I was cooking for myself in the kitchen, the fat chef came over.

She had a complicated look on her face, like she wanted to talk to me but didn't dare.

She kept staring at me making food, and after a long time, she finally couldn't resist asking, "Where did you learn to cook?"

"No need to learn. I just make the food I want to eat." I said.

"You're a werewolf, aren't you? Why do those humans love the food you make? Yesterday they ate all the soup you made and the eggs you boiled with shells. They didn't eat any of the food I made at all."

"Do you never eat the food you make yourself?" I asked her a question.

"Yes, but I'm a vampire. I make food for humans to eat..."

"It has nothing to do with being a vampire or a human or a werewolf. If you don't like the food you cook yourself, why would you think others would love it?"

After that, I cut her a slice of my baked apple pie and left.

Even though the food she made was as bad as shit, maybe she wasn't a terrible chef. At least she loves the job.

A few days later, it was time for me to offer blood to the vampire king.

He came to my room early in the morning to wake me up. When he tried to bite me, I covered his mouth.

"Wait a minute."

I took out a measuring cup, then cut my finger with a disinfected knife.

As we had agreed, I squeezed twenty milliliters of blood for him.

"Can't it be more?" he asked.

"No more."

"Your finger is still bleeding..."

"I'll stop the bleeding."

"Can I lick your finger? I'll just lick it, I won't suck it."

"No way."

"Come on, it's a waste!"

King Louis forced my finger into his mouth despite my objections. He didn't back off even when I hit him on the head with my fist.

I got angry and could only threaten him with the blood in the measuring cup, "If you don't let go of my hand, I'll pour the blood out of the cup!"

Only then did he release me.

"Unfaithful bastard!"

"Don't be so rude, I'm the king!"

"Unfaithful bastard king! Get out of here! Get out of my room!"

I kicked him out of my room.

Five more days passed, and as soon as 12:00 p.m. passed, he immediately came to my room.

He took the measuring cup and looked at me like a dog with a food bowl in its mouth.

Instead of cutting my finger in front of him again, I handed him the blood that I had prepared in advance.

The wound on my finger was already wrapped with a bandage. He did not have the opportunity to suck my finger again.

He looked very displeased, but I didn't even give him a chance to protest or enter my room. I simply closed the door to my room.

After another four days, he came to my room a day early. He said he would wait until the fifth day and then get the freshest blood.

Vile, shameless, gluttonous, and greedy! He fit my stereotypical image of a vampire perfectly.

After two more days, it seemed he couldn't wait five days at all, and he had his coffin carried into my room and copied me by placing it flat next to my coffin.

I was furious, but I had no way to resist. He is the vampire king. This room belongs to him. Every inch of this place belongs to him. Even my life is in his hands.

But I could choose to ignore him. I treat him like air and ignore his presence.

At night, I feel a tickle on my neck. Someone was licking my neck.

I didn't hesitate to slap it across the face. The loud slap sound was pronounced in the dark.

I didn't open my eyes, but turned over and went back to sleep.

The next night, I was awakened once again by a strange sensation on my neck.

Once again, Louis was licking my neck.

Once again, I slapped him, but he grabbed my hand.

He licked at my palm. My goosebumps rose.

"Bastard! Get off of me!"

"Let me have a lick. I'll allow you to dispense with offering blood for once."

I have to say that was a big temptation. Every time I offered him blood, I had to cut my finger, which really hurt.

I closed my eyes and acquiesced to the deal.

He took each of my fingers in his mouth like he was licking a lollipop.

It was so weird.

Meanwhile, I was confused. Would he be satisfied like that? Didn't he need blood anymore? What could he taste on my fingers? The lingering smell of blood from the wound, or, sweat?