My Wives Are Seven Beautiful Demonesses-Chapter 177 - No. Carmilla Wants To Drink

[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]

Carmilla moved.

Not rushed.

Not impulsive.

Just deliberate.

One smooth, aristocratic motion — and Zeraphira found herself shifted half a step aside as the ancient vampire queen occupied the space directly in front of me.

Then—

She leaned in.

And before my brain could file paperwork on what was happening—

Carmilla slid into my arms.

Gracefully.

Like she had always intended to be there.

There was no heat spike.

No cracked tile.

No atmospheric instability.

Just cool, elegant presence.

Behind her, Zeraphira froze.

The wind paused again.

Gabriel made a small, scandalised noise.

Selene — who had apparently teleported onto the balcony at some point because witches obey neither physics nor narrative boundaries — gasped dramatically.

"Oh ho~? Plot twist episode!"

Carmilla rested one gloved hand lightly against my chest.

Her red eyes lifted to meet mine.

Calm.

Amused.

Calculating.

"My turn," she said softly.

Zeraphira's eye twitched.

"You do not have a turn."

Carmilla's smile deepened faintly.

"Oh~ you can have your darling, but I can't have my hubby?"

"No, but you can't just push and claim my— my—"

Zeraphira stalled.

Wrath.exe had encountered a vocabulary error.

Carmilla tilted her head ever so slightly.

"Your…?"

Zeraphira's jaw tightened.

"My fiancé," she finished sharply.

There it was.

Clear.

Possessive.

Public.

Gabriel clutched her own cheeks.

"Oh my goodness! Official terminology has been deployed!"

Selene, who was now absolutely sitting on the balcony railing like gravity was optional, pumped a fist.

"Relationship flag raised! +10 Affection!"

I exhaled slowly.

This was escalating in directions that were not geographically safe.

Carmilla did not move from my arms.

In fact, she adjusted slightly.

Comfortably.

Her head angled just enough that her cool breath brushed against my collarbone.

Zeraphira's aura flared faintly.

The temperature ticked up two degrees.

Carmilla's fingers traced a slow, lazy line down the front of my shirt.

Not tearing.

Not provocative.

Just present.

"You wound me, Lady Wrath," she murmured. "I am merely claiming a small indulgence."

"You are not engaged to him," Zeraphira replied coldly.

"Technicalities."

"They matter."

Carmilla smiled.

"They matter when you are insecure."

Silence.

The wind vanished.

Somewhere in Manhattan, a streetlight flickered in mild existential distress.

Gabriel raised her hand.

"Is this a debate? Should I take notes?"

Selene leaned toward her. "This is Season Finale material."

I cleared my throat.

"Okay. Before Manhattan becomes post-apocalyptic DLC content, let's assess."

Neither woman looked at me.

Zeraphira's gaze remained locked on Carmilla.

Carmilla's red eyes never left mine.

This was not random.

This was deliberate.

She was provoking.

But not to win.

To test.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Carmilla shifted closer still, pressing fully against me now.

Cool.

Unhurried.

Intentional.

"You do not object," she observed quietly.

Zeraphira's gaze snapped to me.

Ah.

There it is.

Crossfire re-engaged.

"I am attempting diplomacy," I replied carefully.

"You are allowing it," Zeraphira countered.

Carmilla hummed softly.

"He is learning multi-front management."

Selene whispered loudly, "That sounds like a military skill."

"It absolutely is," I muttered.

Zeraphira stepped forward.

Heat rippled outward.

Carmilla did not retreat.

Two ancient apex predators.

One balcony.

One weak transmigrated demon prince.

What could possibly go wrong?

Carmilla's fingers tightened slightly at my collar.

Not enough to wrinkle it.

Just enough to anchor.

"You were warm," she said softly.

Zeraphira's eyebrow twitched.

"I am always warm."

"Not you."

Carmilla's gaze dipped briefly to my throat.

Then back to my eyes.

"He was."

Pause.

Oh.

Oh no.

Zeraphira processed that.

Gabriel blinked.

Selene gasped.

"You mean—"

Carmilla's smile sharpened faintly.

"I would like to drink."

Silence.

Absolute.

Complete.

Utter.

Silence.

Zeraphira's aura flared violently.

The balcony railing glowed red.

"You will not."

Carmilla did not look at her.

"I am not asking you."

Zeraphira stepped forward.

The tile beneath her cracked again.

"You are not engaged to him."

"And you are not his warden."

Gabriel squeaked.

Selene clutched her face.

"This is better than anime."

I inhaled slowly. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Okay.

Think.

Carmilla is not emotional.

She is strategic.

She is not jealous.

She is curious.

Testing boundaries.

Testing me.

Testing Zeraphira.

Testing the structure.

She wants to drink my blood.

Carmilla's gaze lingered on my throat for half a second longer than strictly necessary.

"Are you hungry again?" I asked gently, both hands cupping her cool cheeks.

She blinked once.

Slowly.

Then her lashes lowered just slightly.

"We're bonded by the power of blood. As your wife, I have to drink your blood to keep my…sanity," Carmilla finished softly, her red eyes lifting back to mine. "As I can only satisfy my… condition through you now."

The word condition floated in the air like a very polite threat.

Behind her—

Zeraphira's aura flared again.

"Explain," Wrath said flatly.

Carmilla did not look at her.

"After the ritual," she continued calmly, fingers lightly gripping my shirt, "my blood resonance recalibrated."

Selene gasped.

"Ohhhh! Soul-Linked Vampiric Dependency Route unlocked!"

"Stop narrating my medical situation," Carmilla said mildly.

Gabriel blinked rapidly. "Is this… contagious?"

"No," Carmilla and I answered at the same time.

Zeraphira's gaze cut to me.

"You knew."

"Define knew."

"You. Knew."

"I was briefed post-ritual," I corrected carefully.

Zeraphira stepped closer again.

"You permitted this?"

"Well... yes." That 'yes' was quite low.

"That is not comforting."

Fair.

Carmilla exhaled slowly.

Her cool breath brushed my collarbone again.

"Let me clarify," she said smoothly. "If I do not drink from him periodically, my mind becomes… unstable."

Zeraphira's eyes narrowed.

"How unstable?"

Carmilla tilted her head.

"I once turned an ancient pantheon's orgy into a red-themed historical incident."

Silence.

Gabriel slowly raised her hand.

"Is Pantheon okay now?"

"Sorry, but that pantheon didn't last the night."

Selene's eyes sparkled. "Yandere Vampire Queen Arc?"

"I am not yandere," Carmilla said with dignity.

"You absolutely are," I muttered.

Her fingers tightened slightly.

"Selective devotion is not pathology."

Zeraphira inhaled slowly.

Heat shimmered in the air.

"You expect me," Wrath said carefully, "to allow you to feed on my fiancé."

Carmilla's gaze flicked sideways at that word.

Then back to me.

"Allow?" she echoed softly.

Oh no.

That tone.

Zeraphira's eyes sharpened.

"Yes. Allow."

Carmilla finally shifted her body slightly, still in my arms, but angled just enough to acknowledge Wrath without breaking eye contact with me.

"He is not owned."

The temperature spiked.

Zeraphira's jaw tightened.

"He is engaged."

"Engagement is not possession."

Wrath took one step forward.

The balcony tile cracked further.

"Do not test me."

Carmilla's lips curved faintly.

"I already am."

Gabriel whispered loudly to Selene, "Are we supposed to clap?"

Selene nodded enthusiastically. "This is peak writing."

I exhaled slowly.

Okay.

Time to intervene before Manhattan upgrades to Lava Edition.

"Alright," I said calmly, hands still gently holding Carmilla's face. "Let's stabilise the battlefield."

Neither woman moved.

Progress.

"Carmilla," I said softly. "How often?"

Her gaze softened a fraction.

"Once every few days," she replied. "A small amount. Controlled."

Zeraphira scoffed.

"Define small."

Carmilla's eyes flicked downward.

"Enough."

"That is not a measurement."

Selene perked up. "I can get measuring cups!"

"No," three of us said immediately.

Gabriel clasped her hands together. "Is it like donating blood? I brought orange juice!"

"Why do you have orange juice?" I asked.

"I like being prepared."

Of course she did.

Carmilla's fingers slid lightly from my chest to my shoulder.

"I do not require permission from anyone but him," she said softly.

Zeraphira's gaze snapped to me again.

The look was simple.

Choose your wording carefully.

I inhaled.

"Zera."

She did not respond verbally.

But her eyes focused entirely on me.

"She's right about one thing," I said calmly. "I decide."

Her aura flickered.

Not rage.

Attention.

Zeraphira stared at me.

Not burning.

Not shouting.

Just staring.

The wind hesitated, as if it wasn't sure which elemental department had jurisdiction.

"I decide," I repeated calmly.

Carmilla remained in my arms, cool and composed, though her fingers had gone very still against my shoulder.

Gabriel clasped her hands together anxiously.

Selene leaned forward so far off the railing that she was violating at least three laws of gravity.

Zeraphira's voice came quietly.

"Then decide."

No pressure.

Just two apex supernatural entities were waiting for my verdict while New York quietly existed below us, unaware it was one emotional misstep away from becoming a historical footnote.

Right.

Think.

No System prompt.

No convenient cheat tooltip.

Just raw social survival.

"I will allow it," I said evenly.

The temperature spiked.

"But," I continued immediately, before Wrath.exe could launch, "under conditions."

Zeraphira's eyes narrowed.

Carmilla's lashes lifted slightly.

Selene whispered, "Negotiation arc!"

Gabriel whispered back, "Is this democracy?"

"No," I muttered. "This is damage control."

I gently slid one hand from Carmilla's cheek to her wrist, lowering it from my collar.

She did not resist.

She simply watched me.

"First," I said calmly. "It happens openly. Not in secret. No hidden feeding."

Carmilla's lips curved faintly.

"I do not sneak."

"Good."

Zeraphira crossed her arms.

"That is not sufficient."

"Second," I continued, "controlled amount. Measured."

Selene's hand shot up. "I volunteer as blood notary!"

"No."

Gabriel raised her hand. "I can hold the orange juice."

"Why do you still have that?"

She held it up defensively. "Vitamin C is important!"

Carmilla's eyes flicked to the bottle.

"…I do not require citrus."

"It's emotional support juice," Gabriel insisted.

Zeraphira's gaze never left me.

"And third?" she asked.

Ah.

Yes.

The real part.

I looked at Zeraphira fully now.

Not teasing.

Not smirking.

Steady.

"If she's feeding because of a bond tied to me," I said, "then that bond exists because of my decision. Which means I manage it."

Carmilla's fingers tightened slightly.

Zeraphira's expression remained hard.

"So?" Wrath pressed.

"So," I said quietly, "you are not being replaced. And she is not being indulged over you. This is maintenance. Not preference."

Silence.

Wind returned cautiously.

Zeraphira studied my face like she was searching for micro-fractures in my soul.

Carmilla, meanwhile, watched me with a different expression entirely.

Curious.

Evaluating.

Testing something deeper.

Gabriel leaned toward Selene and whispered loudly, "Is this what healthy communication looks like?"

Selene nodded solemnly. "With more property damage."

Zeraphira inhaled slowly.

Heat shimmered faintly around her shoulders.

"You will not enjoy it," she said flatly.

Carmilla's eyebrow lifted slightly.

I blinked.

"Excuse me?"

Zeraphira's gaze sharpened.

"You will not treat it as entertainment."

Carmilla gave the faintest, most dangerous smile.

"I do not feed for sport."

"You flirt," Zeraphira countered.

"I exist," Carmilla replied smoothly. "Flirtation is a byproduct."

Gabriel gasped. "That was elegant!"

Selene fanned herself. "I ship intellectual warfare."

Zeraphira ignored them both.

Her eyes were on me.

"You will not weaken yourself recklessly," she continued.

"That's fair," I admitted.

"And," she added, voice dropping half a degree, "you will not look like that."

I blinked.

"Like what?"

She gestured vaguely.

"That."

I glanced down at myself.

"I'm standing."

"You are smug."

"I am calm."

"You are smug, calmly."

Carmilla made a soft sound that might have been amusement.

Zeraphira shot her a glare that briefly heated the balcony railing again.

I exhaled slowly.

"Alright. No smugness."

"You cannot turn it off," Zeraphira muttered.

"That hurts."

"It is accurate."

Gabriel stepped forward slightly, orange juice still clutched protectively.

"So… are we proceeding with the beverage portion of the morning?"

Carmilla's red eyes drifted back to my throat.

Subtle.

Focused.

Intentional.

"Yes," she said softly.

Zeraphira's jaw tightened.

I raised a hand.

"Selene, a chair please~"

"As you command!" She mock saluted me, and conjured a... extravagant throne.

With collective people looking at her with a deadpanned expression, Selene blushed.

"Oh! Quit staring at me, I am not that cute~"

Sigh!

I decisively picked Carmilla up and sat on the throne with her in my lap, facing me with her legs on either side of me.

There was a pause.

A very loaded pause.

Selene slowly clapped once.

"Throne scene unlocked."

Gabriel's eyes went wide. "Oh! This looks important. Should I dim the lights?"

"It is ten in the morning," Zeraphira said flatly.

"Romance obeys no clock," Selene countered wisely.

Carmilla adjusted herself on my lap with effortless grace, one arm loosely draping around my shoulders. She was cool to the touch — not cold, not warm — just perfectly composed.

Unlike the air temperature.

Which was rising again.

Zeraphira stood two steps away, arms crossed, expression controlled.

The word controlled was doing a lot of heavy lifting.

I looked up at Carmilla.

"Small amount," I reminded her.

She tilted her head slightly.

"Do you not trust me?"

"That is not the concern."

Her lips curved faintly.

"Oh?"

"The concern is you enjoying my suffering."

"I do not enjoy suffering."

"You absolutely do."

"Selective suffering," she corrected.

Gabriel gasped softly. "That sounds morally grey."

"It is," Carmilla replied without missing a beat.

Zeraphira stepped closer.

"Begin," she said.

The word sounded less like permission and more like a military command.

Carmilla's red eyes lifted briefly toward Wrath.

Amusement flickered.

Then her attention returned entirely to me.

The shift was palpable.

Predatory.

Focused.

Not aggressive.

Just… intent.

Her fingers slid lightly to my collar, easing it aside with careful precision. No tearing. No drama.

Just exposure.

Gabriel squeaked and covered her eyes with one hand.

But left a visible gap between her fingers.

Selene leaned so far forward that she was one strong breeze away from falling off the balcony.

Carmilla's lips hovered near my throat.

There was no rush.

No theatrical fang flash.

Just a quiet inhale.

Then—

A sharp, precise sting.

Not painful.

Not exactly.

More like pressure.

Then warmth.

Then something deeper.

It wasn't just blood leaving.

It was resonance.

A subtle pull beneath the skin.

Like something ancient recognising something equally ancient.

The world didn't tilt.

But it softened.

Edges blurred slightly.

My heartbeat thudded once, heavy and deliberate.

Carmilla's fingers tightened reflexively at my shoulders.

Her posture shifted almost imperceptibly.

From aristocratic restraint—

To something hungrier.

Zeraphira noticed instantly.

The temperature spiked.

"Control," Wrath warned.

Carmilla did not respond verbally.

But her grip steadied.

The pull lessened.

Measured.

Disciplined.

Gabriel whispered, "Is he okay?"

Selene nodded seriously. "He looks protagonist-y."

I raised a weak thumbs up.

"Still alive," I muttered.

Carmilla made a soft sound against my neck.

Not quite a hum.

Not quite a sigh.

Something in between.

The air around us cooled slightly.

Her fingers relaxed.

The pull stopped.

She lingered for half a second longer.

Then—

She withdrew.

Slowly.

Gracefully.

A faint trace of red at the corner of her lips.

Her eyes, when they opened fully again—

Were brighter.

Sharper.

Focused.

Stable.

Satisfied.

She licked the faintest trace of blood from her lower lip with composed elegance.

Selene collapsed backwards onto the railing dramatically.

"Peak fiction."

Gabriel slowly lowered her hand.

"Oh… that was much less horrifying than I imagined."

Zeraphira stepped forward immediately.

Not toward Carmilla.

Toward me.

Her hand caught my chin, tilting my face slightly.

Inspection mode engaged.

"You are pale."

"I am always pale."

"Paler."

"That's subjective."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You are lightheaded."

"A little."

"Alright, let's go inside already."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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