My Stepmom Is A Vampire & Her Entire Bloodline Wants To Breed Me Chapter 71: The Lingering Trauma
Seamus decided to check on Dylan and Maria in the guest room. Both were still recovering; their Sagacitas paraters must have been unstable, unable to withstand Isolde’s dream at all.
They were only human, after all, with no immunity to attacks on the mind.
Inside, the two of them were awake but still lying on the twin beds, pale and shaken. He felt bad, after all he’d been the one who suggested coming to the Velstrath manor.
Before he could speak, Dylan lurched off the mattress and seized him by the collar. His voice cracked, fear and fury twisting together.
"WHAT THE HELL, ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL AGAIN?!"
Seamus raised his hands. "Calm down, that wasn’t —"
"BUT YOU DO WANT TO KILL , DON’T YOU?! LIKE YOU KILLED MY FRIENDS?!" Dylan’s grip shook violently, his eyes red-rimd and wild.
"DID YOU LAUGH WHEN YOU SAW THEIR COFFINS ON THE GROUND?!"
Seamus shoved him back; Dylan stumbled to the floor. "Kill your friends? I did nothing, Dylan. I didn’t even know they were dead." His voice was flat, but his pulse hamred.
He’d been too consud by his own pain, cutting down scavengers without even knowing where his rage would end. He had no space for another sob story.
"FUCK YOU!" Dylan slamd a fist into the carpet. "How can you not know they died? It’s all because of you, because of your dream!" Tears streaked his cheeks.
"Do you know how much pain they were in? How much I was in? Marcus was dangling from the ceiling with his neck snapped! Connor jumped out of the building, body wrecked!"
His gaze locked on Seamus like a blade. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"
Seamus should have felt guilt; he hadn’t imagined the effect would be so extre. But instead of remorse he felt only a dull irritation. He crouched in front of Dylan, his expression still blank but his eyes hard.
"If that happened to , would you be crying on the ground like this?"
"Huh?"
"Don’t you think your bullying could have ended in my suicide? And yet, the mont I get back at you, suddenly I’m the monster?" His tone sharpened.
"If I had been the one hanging from the ceiling, would you feel bad for ? If I had been the one to jump, would you have apologized?"
Dylan stared at him as though hearing an alien language.
"No?" Seamus straightened. "Then don’t pretend you’re better than . We’re the sa, the only difference is that I could beat you to death right now if I wanted to."
He turned and walked past him, leaving Dylan trembling on the floor as Maria and Lulu stared, stunned by his words.
"How about both of you? Are you okay?" Seamus asked, his voice softer now.
Maria startled, then gave a small nod. "Ah... yes. I’m healing right now." She tried to smile, but it wavered, and Seamus couldn’t quite read her expression.
He decided not to push. Maria had always been kind, the one who tried to understand him better than anyone else in this room. They’d been childhood friends once, before life pulled them apart like it does to so many friendships.
"Good. If you need anything, tell the maid. It’s better if you both stay the night here, it’s already dark, and the road back to town is dangerous from up here." He tried to sound lighter, less like the man who’d just been accused of murder.
"Thank you, Seamus," they said together, voices overlapping.
"I’ll arrange a new room for you," he added, then hesitated. "Also...I need to tell you what happened inside the dream after you both fainted."
Maria adjusted her glasses. "Oh no, Lulu already explained it to . I’ll report everything to David."
Her eyes narrowed with concern. "But Seamus...are you okay? Why is that Raven after you?"
The question caught him off guard. He glanced at Lulu, who quickly looked away. A long sigh left him.
"I’m fine, Maria. It’s better if you don’t know. But yes...it seems like everyone wants to chain or kill ."
Maria frowned. "I know you’re strong, but please take care of yourself. So of your wounds are still bleeding."
She hesitated. "Do you want to help? Does Velstrath have a private doctor for humans?"
Seamus let out a low chuckle. She was still the sa, overly worried, like when she’d carried his scraped, crying child self ho after a fall. The mory almost hurt.
"I’m fine. You don’t have to worry so much." For the first ti in days, his smile was genuine. After nothing but monsters and madness, her normality felt like fresh air.
But Maria didn’t seem convinced. She reached out, her fingers wrapping around his rough, scarred hand.
"I don’t know what happened to you, Seamus," she murmured, "but if it’s too hard to bear alone, you can tell . All of it."
For a mont he stayed still, her warmth grounding him. Peace flickered in his chest like a candlelight. "Yes," he said quietly. "I will. But for now, we all need to rest."
As Seamus stepped out into the corridor he caught a flash of red hair at the far end. He sighed. "Diane. I know it’s you. Why are you hiding?"
The red strands stiffened. Slowly Diane erged from her corner, but in the next heartbeat, she was already standing before him, moving with that uncanny speed.
"Let’s go to my room," she said quietly. "I’ll help you patch up."
"Okay... but did you hear everything?"
Her face stayed as unreadable as ever, but the way her fingers fidgeted at her side betrayed her. She gave a small nod.
Without another word, they walked to his room. The silence between them felt heavy, but not hostile, just full of things unsaid. As they sat on the sofa, Diane began to peel off his black shirt, the fabric stiff with dried blood, especially across his back.
She grimaced at the wounds. "Your healing should be faster than any normal human," she murmured as she cleaned the blood away. "Why aren’t you healing yourself?"
Seamus turned his head, trying to catch her expression over his shoulder. She looked genuinely worried. There wasn’t even a flicker of hunger for his blood.
"I am healing," he said simply. "It’s just slow."
It was the truth. His Vital Overflow had evolved alongside him, but he was deliberately letting it run slow. The pain grounded him. He didn’t know why; it just did.
Diane’s hands stilled for a mont. "Are you... still feeling guilty about my sister’s death?"
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