Beads of sweat glistened on Eric's forehead, and deep lines of pain etched across his face. Len's steely grip was crushing his bones. Len's gaze remained fixed on that tiny scratch, where the seeping red drop pulled him in like a trance.
The self-control within Len was collapsing like a castle of sand. He unconsciously parted his lips slightly, and in the sharp sunlight, two pointed fangs glinted like white daggers.
"Hh... L-Len..." A pained groan escaped Eric's throat. "What's wrong with you? My hand... you're going to break my hand!"
Eric's trembling, pain-filled voice acted like a splash of cold water on Len's blurring mind.
He snapped back to reality. For a moment, he realized what he was about to do. He instantly pressed his lips together and bit his own lower lip so hard with his fangs that the flesh buckled under the pressure.
To suppress his spiraling thirst, Len jerked his hands away, releasing Eric's wrist. He squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to erase that crimson vision from his memory.
Bracing himself with trembling hands, he began to back away from Eric. His face was drenched in sweat, and he was fighting with all his might to regulate his breathing so Eric wouldn't see the terrifying transformation on his face.
Eric massaged his aching wrist and sat up. He saw that Len had kept his eyes and mouth shut tight like a stone, as if enduring some unbearable agony.
"Len? Why... why aren't you opening your eyes?" Eric asked, concern lacing his voice. He shifted a little closer. "Are you hurt somewhere? Why has your condition suddenly turned like this?"
Len offered no reply. Behind his closed lids, the scent of blood was still calling out to him, and he knew that if he lifted his lashes even for a second, his crimson eyes would betray everything he had been hiding until now.
Len clenched his jaws so tightly that the veins in his neck stood out. The faint scent of blood lingering in the air was still screaming inside his mind. Feeling Eric drawing closer, he tried his best to steady his voice, which was trembling from the internal war he was fighting.
"Dust... some dust got into my eyes," Len said, squeezing his eyes even tighter. There was a strange heaviness in his words.
Eric's concern suddenly transformed into a light smile. His laughter echoed under the silent tree. Shaking out his aching wrist, he looked at Len.
"Dust?" Eric said, laughing, the amusement clear in his voice. "I didn't know you were so fragile, Len. Does a little bit of dust cause you this much pain? You're acting as if someone threw crushed chilies into your eyes!"
Eric couldn't stop himself from chuckling. To him, Len's behavior—shutting his eyes and recoiling—seemed bizarre and slightly hilarious. He was still blissfully unaware of the danger boiling in a terrifying shade of crimson behind Len's closed lids.
Len heard Eric's laughter, but he didn't flutter his lashes. He dug his fingers into the sand of the ground, anchoring himself so he wouldn't surrender.
Eric's laughter still echoed in the air, but he set his mischief aside to offer help. "Come on, open your eyes. Let me see," Eric said, softening his voice slightly as he reached out with both hands to cup Len's face.
The moment the warmth of Eric's fingers drew near Len's skin, Len's body recoiled with the speed of lightning. The predator within him was still desperate to pounce on the scent of blood coming from Eric's wrist, and Eric's proximity was like pouring oil onto a fire.
Len threw both hands back onto the sand and began to scramble away, putting distance between himself and Eric. His face remained bowed, and his eyelids were frozen like stone. His hands sank into the sand, but he was not ready to stop.
Eric's hands stalled in mid-air. His face filled with bewilderment. He looked at his own outstretched fingers and then at the dust swirling from Len's sudden retreat.
"Why... why are you acting like this?" Eric questioned, his voice now carrying confusion and a hint of irritation instead of amusement. "I'm only trying to clean your eyes. You're running away as if I'm about to hurt you. What is the matter, Len?"
Len gave no answer. He lowered his head even further, letting the strands of his hair shroud his face. He knew that if he lost his composure by even an inch, instead of letting Eric clean his eyes, he would find Eric's hands clamped between his teeth.
His fingers, braced against the sand, were now curled into tight fists, and his entire being was fighting the final battle to suppress that crimson thirst.
Eric was not one to give up easily. He extended his hands once more, his palms slowly closing the distance to Len's face. The echoing scent of Eric's skin, combined with the subtle trace of blood seeping from his wrist, began to overwhelm Len's consciousness.
The moment Len sensed Eric's fingers were about to brush against his skin, he threw his entire strength into recoiling again. But this time, Eric was prepared.
Before Len could scramble back, Eric lunged forward and snatched Len's collar in his firm grip. The sharp sound of fabric straining echoed as Len's momentum came to a sudden halt. Eric's hold was so strong that Len's balance faltered.
A suppressed gasp escaped Len's throat. He was utterly caught off guard. This sudden reaction had forced him into a position from which escape was now impossible. His heart hammered against his ribs like a sledgehammer.
On one side was Eric's iron grip on his collar, and on the other was Eric's face, now so close that Len could feel the warmth of his breath.
A cold wave of panic raced down Len's spine. Behind his shut eyes, the crimson ocean was surging. The tug on his collar forced his head up slightly, bringing his face directly level with Eric's. Len's entire being trembled—now, only a thin layer of skin and his own tightly closed eyelids stood between that terrifying reality and Eric.
Len felt the increasing pressure on his throat and asked in a struggling voice, "What... what are you doing?"
A mischievous smile spread across Eric's lips. He didn't loosen his grip on the collar; instead, crawling forward on his knees, he began to push Len backward.
Scurrying across the dusty ground, they had now reached the far side of the massive tree. The shelter of the thick trunk had almost hidden them from the view of the grounds.
Eric swiftly changed his position and dominated over Len. Now Len was completely pinned beneath Eric, his legs trapped within Eric's reach.
In the middle of the distant grounds, Grand Duke Ethos turned his neck for a moment. Due to the shade of the tree and the width of the trunk, he could only see a faint movement of Len's hands and feet.
He turned his cold, deep gaze back toward the soldiers practicing and murmured something very softly to himself, as if reaching a conclusion.
Behind the cover of the tree, Eric suddenly removed his hand from Len's collar. Before Len could open his eyes or attempt to flee, Eric's fingers began to race across Len's stomach with lightning speed.
Len, who had been fighting the ferocious monster within him until now, was not prepared for this sudden assault. As Eric's fingers began to tickle him, the dam of Len's restraint broke. A loud burst of laughter echoed from his lips, and a fountain of mirth erupted on his face.
That crimson thirst and the terrifying transformation of his eyes were suppressed beneath this sudden gust of laughter. He writhed, trying to free himself from Eric's grip, but his face no longer held fear or hunger—only pure, irrepressible laughter.