Blood Wasted on You

Thalassa's POV

During our first month at university, my half-vampire boyfriend, Darien, claimed he couldn't adapt to the human campus. The bright lights gave him vertigo, the sensory overload wrecked him, and even a drop of a classmate's blood pushed him to the brink of losing control.

For him, I promised to drop my elite program so we could transfer to a dreary, isolated northern town together. To keep him stable, I—a pureblood vampire—slashed my own wrists to feed him.

Thursday night, standing outside the gym locker room, I heard him tell his teammate: "It's all an act. She's like a leech I can't peel off, and I’m sick of it. I tricked her into moving north so Cassira can study here in peace."

Everything he did was just to disgust me out of his life, all for another girl.

I stood there for a long time, then turned and walked away.

On my transfer application, I crossed out checking the northern town and changed my destination to London.

——

During our first month at university, Darien constantly complained that a human campus was too much for his half-vampire senses.

Daylight made him dizzy; at night, insomnia tortured him.

Three weeks ago, during biology class, the girl sitting next to him cut her finger on a scalpel. She only bled a few drops. Darien’s pupils instantly dilated, his breathing turning ragged as he bordered on a frenzy.

I grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the classroom.

To suppress his spiraling senses, I took him back to my apartment. My pureblood blood could completely calm him down.

And he drank it, greedily and without restraint.

Seeing the tears and guilt well up in his pale amber eyes, I didn't utter a single word of blame. In my family, offering your blood to feed another is the ultimate act of degradation.

But I compromised for him.

I voluntarily gave up my core elite program. I promised to accompany him to a colder, more isolated university up north—anywhere he felt comfortable.

He held me tight that day, his eyes red, swearing he would never leave me.

Two hours ago, all that touching devotion turned into a sick joke.

Thursday night, I stood outside the locker room holding a bottle of water. Fifteen minutes earlier, in the hockey finals, Darien executed a brutal body check to steal the puck and score the winning goal.

The hallway was entirely empty.

Through the cracked metal door, I heard his best friend, Liam, teasing him.

"That hit you put on their defenseman was vicious. You don't look like a dying patient tortured by a human campus at all."

My hand froze on the doorknob. Inside, a metal bench scraped loudly against the floor.

"That was just for show," Darien’s voice was shockingly cold.

"You're unbelievable, playing the Rowe family heiress like a fiddle. I genuinely thought you could barely stand."

"I could snap their center's bones on the ice with my eyes closed," Darien sneered. "I'm just so sick of Thalassa. She follows me everywhere, monitoring my every breath. She's like a leech I can't peel off."

"Then why not just break up with her?"

"You don't get it. If she finds out I want to dump her, things will get incredibly messy."

I stared at my fingers gripping the plastic bottle. My knuckles were numb from squeezing so hard.

Inside, tape ripped off a hockey stick.

"So you faked an illness to make her suggest transferring? You're a real bastard. She looked pale as a sheet the other day—she fed you a lot of blood, didn't she?"

Darien’s tone was filled with contempt and a sickening sense of entitlement. "That was just a little punishment for her. A bit of physical suffering is nothing compared to how she bullies Cassira."

At the sound of that name, my eye twitched. Cassira was another half-vampire on campus.

"Thalassa is always so damn arrogant. Every time they meet, she uses her pureblood status to humiliate Cassira. Tricking Thalassa into leaving is the only way Cassira can study here in peace."

The two of them laughed.

I looked down at the sliver of light bleeding from the door crack.

I thought I would be furious. I thought I would kick the door open and demand if he felt even an ounce of shame while swallowing my blood. I wanted to ask him how it felt to trample on my genuine love just for some manipulative girl.

But I did nothing.

I set the water bottle on the trash can at the end of the hall and walked out of the gym.

A person doesn't rot overnight.

Two hours later, my phone vibrated violently on my desk. Darien's name flashed on the screen.

I glanced at it, then slowly turned my gaze back to my open suitcase.

A text popped up: «Where are you? The game exhausted me. I want to see you.»

In the past, I would have grabbed my coat and rushed downstairs. Now, I felt absolutely nothing.

I didn't reply.

I logged into the university's transfer portal and changed my destination from that northern town to London.