From Son to Mate: The Mate's Mark
Alex stepped back a little—and saw her face.
Rose's cheeks were a deep crimson, her lips parted as soft, uneven breaths slipped out of her. Under the black silk of her gown, her chest rose and fell in quick, frantic gasps, each breath trembling like her body was trying to steady itself. Her shining red eyes glistened with a haze—dazed, distant, overwhelmed.
He blinked, caught off guard by the look on her face. "Mom… what's going on?" His voice shook, a blend of surprise and worry. "Why are you. responding like this?"
She let out a slow breath, her breathing shaky yet light, as if between laughter and something more profound. Her lips curled into a soft, slightly amused smile as her fingers stroked her hair back from her face. Even that small action had a light tremble to it.
"Don't worry, my son…" She cooed softly, attempting to calm him. "It's… it's just the reaction to your bite on my neck."
Alex went rigid.
"My… neck?" he whispered in a barely audible tone.
He jerked his head and glanced down at her wrist—still lying, unbroken, within his fingers. The truth flooded him like icy water. He hadn't bitten her wrist as he planned.
He bit her neck.
Panic filled his chest. "I… I didn't mean to—" he stuttered, pulling back hastily. "I'm sorry, Mom, I—I wasn't thinking—"
But Rose didn't jump. She raised her hand softly and smoothed her fingers through his pink hair in a soothing motion. Her touch was firm now, stabilizing. Her smile stayed, warm and loving.
Don't apologize, dear. It's not your fault," she told him, her voice soft and low. "It's mine. I never showed you the value of… where you bite."
His eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"
Her eyes held his, the amusement in them gradually dissipating. In its place was something older, more profound—a timeless truth passed through her blood.
"Among vampires," she whispered, "the neck is holy.
His whole body stiffened. "Sacred?"
She nodded slowly, her voice even, but not joking anymore.
"If a male vampire takes from a woman's neck…" Her words skipped a beat as she looked for something in his eyes. Then she continued, "…it signifies that he's selected her. Claimed her. As his wife. His mate."
The air changed. The subsequent silence enveloped them, heavy and thick, like the velvet curtains drawn across a window.
Alex sat motionless, his heart racing. The term "mate" resonated in his brain. "Wife" boomed louder.
He hadn't intended it. He hadn't realized. He'd just reacted.
"I… I didn't know," he spoke softly. "I wasn't trying to… I didn't mean…"
Rose's smile came back, but softer now—tender, tinged with something unsaid. Her eyes, ever so steady, had a shadow of sadness in them.
"It's okay, Son," she said softly. "If you don't like this… I can take away the mark. I'm still the Progenitor. I have that right."
Those words cut deeper than he had anticipated.
Take away?
Something within him curled at the prospect. Her voice was steady, but the pain under it was evident—and it lashed at him.
He could sense it: her grief. Not for herself, but for him. For burdening him with something he hadn't wanted.
And yet…
There it was again—that flutter in his chest. Murmuring, intense. Something stirring, not just within his veins, but within his soul.
He hadn't asked for this world. He hadn't asked to be a vampire. The Bloodwing System, the power, the fate—it was all forced upon him.
But now, it belonged to him.
And so did she.
Rose—the one who had brought him into this world, who had welcomed him without thinking twice about it, who had never pushed anything upon him… and who now wanted to take it all away, just to lighten his load.
His jaw clenched. He gazed at her once more, really looked—and in those bloodshot eyes, he saw not only the Progenitor… but the woman who had been with him since the beginning.
"Mom…"
She gazed up at him, her face inscrutable.
He kept staring.
"I apologize," he told her gently. "You know I woke up today. Everything is… too much. It's all new. But—"
She nodded once, her smile bitter.
"I know, Son. Take your time to adjust."
He nodded once.
Then glanced at her again.
"Mom."
"Yes?" Rose asked softly, smiling, her voice as smooth as velvet, her face warm but inquiring.
Alex hesitated. His lips parted a little, as though the words were hard to form. But then, strengthened by some inner resolve, he spoke—low and steady and rich with meaning.
"I don't want you to get rid of the mark."
Her smile changed.
A flash of surprise danced across her face—enough to give expression to the depth of her feelings. Her eyelashes lifted as crimson eyes went wide, a breath faintly caught between parted lips.
"You don't?" she whispered.
He nodded slowly and deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers.
"If it's all right with you…" he started again, softer this time, "Mom… my creator…"
His own throat constricted, but he pressed on, using every word to bear the full weight of his truth.
"I want you as my wife."
There was a stillness in the air between them. Rose said nothing. Rose moved not at all. Her face changed—stunned, nearly incredulous—as if his words had taken the breath from her body.
He waited.
His hand crept towards hers, his fingers tracing the curve of her palm with a gentleness that arose not from obligation, but love.
"…Mom?" he repeated, his voice softer now.
"Did you… hear me?"
She blinked slowly and dazedly, as if awakening. Her lips parted, as if she wished to answer, but her voice rasped in her throat.
Then, shaking her head ever so slightly, she let out a small gasp of disbelief. Her eyes glimmered faintly with a misty sheen.
"Mnh… hmm? Son, can you… repeat that?" she breathed, as if half-afraid she'd dreamed it.
Alex swallowed, his heart thumping in his chest. He leaned in closer, his words no louder than breath.
"If you don't mind… can you be my mate?"
This time, the words didn't just reach her ears—they hit her heart.
Rose stilled, completely. A long silence wrapped around them like a shroud. Then something deep inside her, something that had been locked away for centuries, quietly shifted.
She hadn't made him for love. At least, that was what she had convinced herself. He was to be family. To comfort her aloneness. To lend depth to her immortality. And yet… there had always been this gnawing within her—a quiet craving for someone who wasn't simply hers by birth, but freely chooses her.
Here he stood now.
Her son, her blood, her other half.
And he had freely chosen her.
A low gasp escaped her lips. Emotion welled inside her, too much to hold. She moved forward, arms wrapping hard around him, her body slamming against his, heat against heat.
The fragrance of rose petals, old wine, and the forgotten night filled his senses. Her arms shook a little, but her voice stayed soft and clear as it swept against his ear.
"I'm. so happy, Son," she breathed, fighting the break in her voice. "So happy."
When she stepped back, her eyes were no longer wet—they sparkled.
"Yes," she said, the single word enounced like a promise, low but unshakeable. "I accept. I will be your mate."
For the first time that evening, Alex smiled—really smiled. The constriction in his chest, the intangible bonds of guilt and uncertainty… all dissolved. There was nothing left between them but understanding.
And love.
He took a deep breath, releasing everything he had harbored up until now. The burden of fear, confusion, desire, and all the memories that had tormented him dissolved into the stillness around them.
His gaze met hers—deep, boundless crimson wells, full of something beyond lust or hunger. Through them, he saw comprehension. Acceptance. An unspoken promise that went very deep.
"Then…" he breathed, the words no more than a whisper on his lips.
Rose nodded reluctantly, a movement full of elegance and finality. Her eyes stayed on him—soft, unshakable, full of something timeless.
Their faces moved together—not in pursuit of a kiss, but of something more. This wasn't passion. This was surrender. Mutual. Total.
A quiet message passed between them.
Their fangs descended together, shining softly in the candlelit space. There was no urgency, no hesitation—only conviction. For one, gasping moment, time itself stood still, as if the world waited motionless to see what was about to transpire.
Then—bite.
Their teeth sank into the other's flesh simultaneously, like two razor blades etching a religious symbol. That first blood was too strong to endure. Thin, warm, and old. His poured into her, hers into him.
With the first mouthful, something shifted.
Alex softly gasped, sensing her being flow into him—familiar and suffocating. It wasn't blood. It was memory. Power. The resonance of her past, her soul against his. He felt her presence spread across every nook of him, as if her existence now resided within his veins.
Rose shuddered, but it was not from pain. With his blood spilling into her, her hand curled against his chest. It was not the flavor that unsettled her—it was the innocence of him. The turmoil within him, the turmoil, the repressed power. She sensed it all as if it were hers.
The world turned to darkness and quiet. The dancing candles, the far-off buzzing of the moon overhead, it didn't matter anymore. In this holy transaction, all else did not exist.
This was no mere feeding.
This was an oath—a blending older than any written or spoken word. An unbreakable seal.
Their breaths were shallow, synchronized effortlessly. There was no word after. There needn't be. Theirs was a bond etched not with ink, but with blood, soul, and destiny.
And under the red moonlight, amidst quiet and darkness, two vampires—maker and made—merged as one.