Winter in Vancouver. The streetlights cast a misty frost, like a ghost from the past wandering in the quiet corners of the campus. Nathan hurried past the back door of the library, his steps quick. Inside his backpack was only a nearly falling-apart notebook — filled with doubts about existence, and one name: Lilith.

The first time he saw Lilith was a month ago at a sparsely attended campus poetry reading. He was sitting in the last row, hood pulled over his head, and she appeared — silent, sitting down without a sound. Her long hair was unnaturally smooth, skin pale but not sickly, eyes black like they had swallowed every star.

Nathan forgot how to breathe for a moment.

Since then, every night had been haunted by her. It wasn’t anything she did — she awakened something. Suppressed desires. Lust and guilt no one had ever explained to him.

He was a virgin — not because of religion or shame, but because no one had ever caught his eye. Well-mannered, academically gifted, with a fastidiousness toward both the body and emotions. Lilith didn’t say anything, yet shattered every boundary he’d built.

Their first kiss happened on a platform near an abandoned train station. No one around. Cold wind, rust, the scent of old paint — it all matched Lilith’s aura perfectly.

She said, “You know, the most beautiful touch isn’t when you love me. It’s when you don’t even know you’re making a mistake.”

In that moment, Nathan kissed her. Not out of courage, but from completely giving up his principles.

Lilith’s tongue was cold — not bone-chilling, but hauntingly addictive.

From then on, every night felt different. He started hallucinating — dreaming of being entangled with her in a pool of blood. Sometimes his spine ached, like something was growing inside. He once asked her:
“Who are you?”
She answered, “I’m your future evidence of sin.”

When Nathan woke, his sheets were wet.
Not sweat. Not semen. Blood — his blood.

There was a bite on his chest. Not deep, but distinct. He wasn’t surprised. It was as if he’d expected it.

Lilith sat at his desk, flipping through his notebook, eyes darting like a cat’s.
“You’re not going to ask what I did last night?”
“I know what you did,” Nathan said, sitting up and wiping the wound with a T-shirt. “You drank my blood.”

Lilith didn’t deny it — she just smiled. That smile was too quiet, like a funeral.
“I’m not human. You’re starting to see it.”

Nathan looked at her, his throat itchy and dry — he didn’t know whether it was fear, anger, or arousal.
“How old are you?”
“This year? I suppose I’m 106. I was already like this when the Spanish flu hit in 1919,” she said flatly.

“Why did you choose me?”
“Because you’re pure. So pure I wanted to stain you.” Her voice was gentle, but her words cut like knives. “And because you’re willing to sacrifice. You don’t even protect yourself.”

Nathan laughed — a little mad.
“So I attracted you not because I loved you, but because I taste good.”

Lilith stepped closer, tracing his collarbone with her finger.
“No, Nathan. I love you — only, my way of loving is to consume.”

She whispered in his ear:
“Do you know how deeply I kissed you when you were crying?”

In that moment, a lyric flashed through his mind:

No way to wipe away
Blood and tears
Carrying the guilt
How can I sleep?

He always knew loving Lilith was wrong — but it was beautifully wrong. Every night, he didn’t want to wake up. Every drop of blood felt like it was stitching their souls together.

“You know what you’re doing?” Nathan asked in a low voice.
“I do. I’m using you to extend my existence,” she said, looking at him without flinching. “But you don’t understand — I’m not doing this out of fear of death. I’m addicted. You’ve given me a taste I’ve never had before.”

“Am I your slave or your lover?”
“I can’t tell.”

The night was pitch-black — not just because the moon wasn’t out, but because in Nathan’s eyes, he saw nothing but Lilith.

They snuck into the lab together, stole equipment, blood samples, and a container of unknown liquid.
“What do you need these for?” Nathan asked.
Lilith carefully packed test tubes into her bag. “To see… if I can survive just on refrigerated plasma instead of human blood. Maybe… I’ll feel less guilty.”

“You feel guilt?” Nathan raised an eyebrow.
“No. But I know you do,” she replied, glancing back at him, cold eyes flickering with fire.

Silently, they crossed campus to the edge of the back hill — an abandoned greenhouse. It had become their hideout. An old couch. A table strewn with worn books. A dusty radio — often playing only fragments of lyrics:

The deeper the pain…
The nobler…

They lay on the couch, not speaking. Just breathing in sync.

Then Lilith bent down and bit Nathan’s collarbone — not deeply, more like an intrusive kiss.
“You know,” she whispered, “the more you hurt, the more real love feels to me.”
“And do you know,” he said, “the more I let you bite me, the less human I feel.”

Neither said it, but both knew — their obsession wasn’t emotional.
It was this unspoken truth: “Only you make me someone else.”

A few days later, the campus was abuzz — a professor had gone missing, the lab destroyed.

Nathan stared blankly at the newspaper.
Lilith was by the window, sipping from a blood bag. Quietly.
“It wasn’t me,” she said suddenly.

Nathan didn’t ask, but he already knew.
“I didn’t kill him to drink his blood. I killed him… because he tried to rape you.”

“You saying that — is it for comfort? Or do you want me to accept you’re a murderer?” Nathan asked.
“I want you to know I can kill — but only to protect you.”

Nathan looked at her, slumping like a drowned man into his chair.
“And me? When will I become you?”

Lilith knelt before him, her eyes twin black holes.
“When you start to feel like killing someone isn’t a problem — then you’ll be my accomplice.”

Nathan no longer asked if she bit him out of love. He no longer questioned whether he was man or monster.

He only knew this:
Every night at 7 p.m., the greenhouse heating failed. The air grew damp and cold — just enough to keep his nerves alert.

Shirtless, he sat with his back against the moldy couch.
The radio fuzzed out distorted lyrics:

No I can’t stop myself tonight…
Love doesn’t need to be let go…

Lilith entered. Her footsteps unwavering — like a play long rehearsed.

She didn’t speak. Just lowered her head, licking the scar on Nathan’s chest, then bit — not all at once, but teasing, her fangs grazing before piercing.

The moment blood spurted out — Nathan got hard.

He wasn’t ashamed. His body accepted the sensation honestly.

Pain mingled with pleasure, flooding his nerves. His hips arched, chasing her.
“I don’t want you to hold back tonight,” he whispered hoarsely, gripping her hair.

Lilith didn’t respond. She kept licking — not just blood, but sweat, skin, even the sound of his heartbeat.

“You’re not just biting me,” Nathan moaned, “you’re penetrating my soul.”

“I’m not drinking your blood,” Lilith said hungrily. “I’m making love to you.”

She knelt and bit his neck, pinning him. He didn’t resist — instead, he clamped her waist between his thighs.

No more words. Just groans, gasps, skin on skin, blood mixing with saliva, flowing into each other’s mouths.

Every wound was like sex.

After biting, Lilith sealed each wound with her mouth — not to stop the bleeding, but to live inside him.

Every breath Nathan took felt like climax — waves smashing his nerves.

Eventually, collapsed on the couch, he said:
“Do you know how much I wanted to be inside you tonight?”

Lilith kissed his collarbone, whispering:
“Tonight I want to drink you dry — till you’re just a puddle of desire.”

No love. No redemption. No choice.
They coexisted — through sex, through blood, through addiction to pain.
One act of cruelty a day. Without tears.

The radio stuttered:
The deeper the pain…
The nobler…

“I don’t want to save you,” Nathan said. “I want to rot with you.”

Finally, he grabbed Lilith’s hair, forcing her to look at him.
“Tonight, don’t just bite. I want all of you inside me.”

He looked at her — no love, no pity. Just hunger, almost animalistic.

Lilith didn’t resist. She took off her pants, straddled his throbbing erection.

The moment she entered — Nathan cried.
Not from pain — but release.

He held her hips, thrusting forcefully, as if trying to fight death.
Lilith bit his shoulder, sucking blood while moving with him.

Their rhythm was primal — two animals surviving.

With every thrust, she bit deeper — her fangs pierced a nerve cluster near his collarbone, nearly paralyzing him.

He didn’t care.

At the moment of climax, he sucked her tongue, drank his own blood back, and kissed her hard — like mutual consumption.

That night had no foreplay, no caresses, no tenderness.

Only piercing, penetration, devouring, orgasms, and losing control.

It was like tearing his soul apart and offering it to her.

Afterward, Nathan knelt on the floor.
Semen dripped from Lilith, mixed with blood, puddling between the old tiles.

He licked it up — without hesitation.

“I’m no longer human,” he murmured.
“I’m the monster you’ve raised.”

Lilith held him, silent. Then whispered in his ear:

Love needs no shame.

You are the only ruin where I can live.
Even if you’re no longer love — I still want you.

This artcile is translated from Traditional Chinese page.
https://dovc.co.uk/hk/%e3%80%8a%e5%9b%a0%e6%84%9b%e4%b9%8b%e7%bd%aa%e5%90%8d%e3%80%8b/