Vampire Short Dramas

I was his most obedient blood slave. When he needed strength, I offered my blood; when he was irritable, I endured his temper. Even when he held his new lover and prepared for their wedding, I stayed silent at his feet. He thought I was born to bow, never realizing the poison hidden deep in my veins—the poison meant to end him. And when he bit into my skin for the final time, what he drank wasn’t power but his own doom. As his bloodline collapsed before my eyes, he finally fell to his knees, trembling, begging me for mercy. I only looked at him and smiled. He never understood—I was never his plaything. I was merely waiting for the right moment to take my revenge.

I was dying, but honestly? Death felt like mercy. As a vampire, I should have been immortal. But at six years old, I'd made a deal with a demon, gambling my fate on "true love"—if three times I failed to win the heart of the one I loved, the demon would claim my soul. Just when I thought death was certain, I got pregnant. Morag, the demon, showed rare mercy, promising to wait until I gave birth. But at eight months, my husband sneered about removing the "bastard." My brother didn't even flinch as he sliced open my belly. My parents cursed that I deserved it—all to save my sister Lycia, who'd somehow "returned from the dead." The day they cut my child out, not one tear. Not for me. So why, after I died, were they all on their knees at my grave, sobbing?