10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 212- Evangeline on her knees?

She stood three feet from him.

Up close, the pendant at her sternum blazed—pulsing its frantic, furious red against the thin fabric of her gown with the energy of something trying desperately to communicate a message that its owner had decided was not worth reading.

Her silver hair fell loose around her shoulders. Her gold irises—sharp, ancient, the color of coins older than most kingdoms—moved over him with an attention that was neither clinical nor casual. Something in between. The attention of a collector who has acquired something unusual and is still in the process of determining its exact value.

Her lips parted.

The long, elegant line of her fang caught the torchlight as she leaned toward his throat—unhurried, precise. The motion of a woman exercising a right she did not feel the need to justify.

"Who are you," she said quietly, voice like cold silk dragged across old stone, "to even ’stop’ me from looking at you?"

Her mouth opened wider. The needle-sharp tips of her teeth hovered two inches above the side of his neck, the faint warmth of her breath already grazing the skin where his pulse beat—

His hand came up.

Flat palm against her lips. Full stop.

Not violent. Entirely immovable.

Her fangs pressed against his fingers instead of his skin. The pointed tips indented the flesh faintly without breaking it.

She went very still.

"Wait," he said. Flat. Even. With exactly the same tone he might use to pause a business negotiation that had moved ahead of schedule. "I will not let you have my blood again without getting some special favor."

The pendant at her chest blazed white for a single, searing second.

Then red.

Then darker.

The silence in the room was immaculate. Neither Lira nor Ytrisia had moved—one because she was too exhausted to engage with whatever was currently happening, and one because she had been trained across many lives to recognize when to stay very still.

Evangeline did not move away from his hand.

Her gold eyes traveled downward.

To the marks on Ytrisia’s breast, just visible at the edge of the sheets.

To the evidence of everything she had watched from the window.

To the complete, untouched calm of his expression—the absence of fear in it, the absence of ’deference’, which was the thing that truly made the oldest, hungriest part of her nature tip sideways in something it had no clean word for.

She stepped back.

One single, measured step. Her chin lifted. Her hands, which had been braced on air in the last second before his palm stopped her, settled back at her sides with the careful deliberateness of a woman placing things back on shelves and deciding on their new arrangement.

Her mouth twitched.

It wasn’t quite a smile. It wasn’t quite fury.

It was something older than both. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Did you just dare—" The words came out soft. Impossibly soft. The soft of a thing that has no need to raise its voice because its voice, even quiet, has ended empires. "—to stop me from sucking your blood?"

The torchlight moved between them.

The pendant pulsed once more.

Neither of them blinked.

And then, the air in the room simply died.

Cruxius blinked.

It wasn’t a metaphor. The actual, physical atmosphere inside the stone chamber plummeted in pressure, as if an invisible vacuum had been detonated directly between them. The steam drifting lazily near the ceiling snapped downward, flattening against the cold tiles. The flames on the wall torches didn’t flicker—they choked, shrinking down to thin, terrified blue slivers.

Killing intent.

But not the crude, loud kind of killing intent a ranked hero or a syndicate thug projected. Not the hot, roaring pressure of a beast.

This was cold. Immaculate. An absolute, sheer drop into an abyssal trench where light had never existed. It rolled off Evangeline’s pale, delicate frame in invisible, crushing waves. It hit Cruxius with the physical weight of a collapsed building, settling over his shoulders, pressing into his lungs, making the fine hairs on his arms stand on end.

Behind him, on the dark silk sheets, the effect was immediate.

Lira, already drained to the absolute limit of her physical endurance, let out a choked, wet gasp. Her body locked rigid, the soft curves of her thighs trembling violently as her survival instincts, buried under layers of exhaustion and afterglow, screamed at her to flee. She couldn’t. She was paralyzed.

Beside her, Ytrisia fared no better. The S-rank heroine, possessing a physique built to withstand kinetic impacts that could level city blocks, whined like a cornered animal. Her heavy, violently abused breasts jiggled with a sudden, sharp shudder, the dark, wet bite marks on her pale skin stark against her flush. She didn’t open her eyes, but her broad hips twitched, curling inward in an entirely involuntary display of total submission to the apex predator that had just claimed the room’s oxygen.

Cruxius stood perfectly still.

His SS-rank intellect, usually a pristine, calculating engine that processed timelines, variables, and leverage with cold perfection, suddenly stuttered .

’Where is this coming from?’

He didn’t understand.

The calculation was supposed to be simple. He possessed the blood she craved. He had already allowed her to feed on him in this timeline—a transaction of absolute intimacy and power that, logically, should have pacified the ancient, feral hunger sleeping beneath her aristocratic exterior. She had been calm. She had given him the east wing. She had allowed him his space. He had assumed, with the arrogant, unshakeable certainty of a man who held the Black Loop as his ultimate safety net, that setting a boundary would simply result in a negotiation . A shift in their dynamic.

Not ’this’.

Not this towering, suffocating wall of pure, unadulterated violence radiating from a woman who looked like she could be blown over by a strong breeze.

Seeing her act as if she was going to legitimately, messily tear him apart right here, right now, sent a genuine jolt of adrenaline through his system. For a fraction of a second, his usually immovable composure cracked.

He trembled.

Just once. A minute, involuntary micro-tremor that started in his chest and vanished into his shoulders.

Evangeline saw it.

The gold of her irises did not soften. The sharp, predatory slits of her pupils remained fixed on his dark eyes, pinning him in place like an insect under glass.

But the killing intent shifted. It didn’t vanish, it simply... changed shape. It curled inward, condensing from a room-wide crushing pressure into a tight, razor-thin wire pulled taut directly between the two of them.

And then, she moved.

Her right hand lifted.

Pale. Impossibly delicate. The fingers slender, ending in nails that caught the dim light like polished ivory. She reached out, bridging the small gap between them, and pressed her palm flat against the center of his chest.

Her skin was freezing.

The contrast against his flushed, sweat-slicked skin was entirely jarring. He was still radiating the aggressive, suffocating heat of a man who had just thoroughly ravaged two exceptional women. His heart was hammering a steady, heavy drumbeat against his ribs.

Her hand lingered there for a single heartbeat.

Then, she began to sink.

It was a slow, fluid descent. The thin fabric of her white gown shifted and pooled around her as her knees bent. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her pale face as she descended, sliding down the architecture of his body.

"What are you doing?" Cruxius said.

’Is she trying to give me... blowjob?!’