Chapter 2: The return of the Demon Lord

"What does it feel like to be touched by a woman after a century, Master? Or perhaps I should call you Lars von Rosen now?" Ingrid asked, slowly running the sponge over the black-haired young man’s back.

She was soaking in the large bathtub with him. Her long blonde hair, tied into two thick braids, floated on the surface of the water alongside the generous curves of her breasts.

"Lars von Rosen..." he repeated. "So that’s what I’ll be called in this era?"

He considered it for a few seconds.

"Not bad. I like it."

"I’m really glad you like it. You know, it took me quite a while to settle on it."

"How long?"

"Two years."

Lars turned his head slightly toward her.

"Two years just to pick a name?"

"Let’s just say I’ve had plenty of free time over the past hundred years."

Ingrid dipped the sponge back into the faintly red-tinged water and wrung it out. Then she resumed wiping his pale skin.

"So, what’s your first impression of this era?"

"Hmm... I’d say it’s noisy."

Ingrid let out a brief laugh.

"That’s it?"

"Noisy, bright, and always in a hurry."

"So you don’t like it?"

"Not necessarily. I’ve only been awake for three days, after all. It’s a little too soon to judge. The only thing I know for sure is that human blood these days tastes terrible."

"Well, judging by how much of it you had all over you when you came back, I’d say you still had quite the feast."

"After a hundred years without feeding, I can’t afford to be too picky. Besides, not all that blood belonged to my prey."

Ingrid’s expression suddenly tensed.

"Already...?"

"Yeah. Looks like I’ll have to defend my title as Demon Lord even in this era."

"They really don’t know when to give up. Who got themselves slaughtered this time?"

"A small fry — the Butcher Demon. That scum got what he deserved: eaten by rats."

Ingrid let out a long sigh.

"I hope the others have more common sense, though I doubt it."

She dropped the sponge into the water and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his back.

"So, my son, are you ready to start your new life?"

Lars slowly turned his head toward her.

"Your son...?"

"That’s right. Are you happy?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"No. But I thought it’d be fun to try something different for this era..."

She held him a little tighter.

"...who knows how many centuries I’ll have to wait before it’s my turn to prepare for your awakening again."

As she spoke, Ingrid gently caressed his lower abdomen and the area between his thighs.

After a hundred years of sleep, that touch alone was more than enough to stir Lars’s desire.

"Since you want to play the mother this time around, I’m afraid you’ll have to forget about certain things. Incest was frowned upon a century ago. I assume it still is."

"I’m only your mother out there."

Ingrid brought her full lips close to his ear.

"Inside this house, I’m still your devoted wife — the one who’s spent the last hundred years without letting anyone lay a hand on her..."

Her fingers closed around his erection, stroking it with all the pent-up intensity of a century of abstinence.

Lars tilted his head back, resting it on her shoulder as he gave himself over to the pleasure.

"Not even a blind man would believe you’re really my mother..."

"And why not?"

Ingrid still looked exactly as she had when he’d turned her into a vampire four centuries ago — a stunning woman in her forties with long, straw-colored hair, a freckled face, and eyes the color of the sea.

In short, there was very little about her that resembled him.

"Because we don’t look anything alike."

"Oh, that. Well, we’ll just say you take after your father. It’s not that hard to believe."

An amused smirk spread across Ingrid’s face.

"The real dilemma will be explaining how Camila is supposed to be your little sister."

Lars let out a long sigh, somewhere between pleasure and resignation.

"So it’s you and Camila this time...? I’ve been awake for three days, and I’m already looking forward to going back to my century-long sleep..."

In response, Ingrid suddenly tightened her grip on his erection, hard enough to make him grimace.

"Ow! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You’ve got some nerve asking me that after what you just said."

"It was obvious I wasn’t talking about you. I meant Camila. Actually, remind me why I decided to turn her into a vampire and make her my wife. Seriously, I can’t remember at all."

"Apparently, you were drawn to her liveliness, her cheerful nature, and that infectious enthusiasm of hers."

Lars fell silent for a moment.

"I see. I was drunk... Oh, by the way, where did she run off to?"

"She went out with a guy she met at a club."

"A guy...?"

"For his blood, obviously. You might find it hard to believe, but Camila hasn’t let anyone touch her in the past hundred years either."

Ingrid’s tone grew more playful.

"What’s wrong, Lars? Don’t tell me you’re suddenly jealous."

"Quite the opposite. I was just hoping someone else had finally managed to get her off my hands."

"You can say whatever you want, but you wouldn’t have made her one of your wives if you didn’t care about her."

"Think whatever you want."

Ingrid pulled her hand away and stood up. The bathwater, still tinged with blood, trickled down her naked body.

She stepped around to stand in front of Lars, then lowered herself back into the tub, this time between his legs.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips close to his.

"Now, though..." she whispered. "...I want you to show me that you care about me too."