Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 267: A Meal for the Monster

The method Lisbeth proposed to rid the kingdom of the evil that was Florian involved poison. She had considered killing him in his sleep, but she feared the demon would sense her approach and alert him before she could get close enough.

"He’s dangerous. We must act swiftly," she urged her father, who remained hesitant, unwilling to resort to such drastic measures.

He had never witnessed Florian’s true nature, Lisbeth thought. That was why the king lacked the resolve to do what was necessary.

It wasn’t that Lisbeth was heartless or held a personal grudge against Riona and Florian. In fact, she pitied him. But above all, she feared for the safety of the kingdom and its people.

She’d made some questionable life choices and hurt a few people along the way, but she was still a capable princess. When her desperate need for her father’s approval didn’t cloud her judgment, she could actually demonstrate the leadership her people needed.

Lisbeth informed King Valentin of her timeline and general plan, not because she expected him to carry it out on her behalf, but as a courtesy. It was important to keep him in the loop—not that it would matter since she’d still do it if he opposed her anyway.

If he had objected—which, thankfully, didn’t happen—Lisbeth would have been forced to conclude that King Valentin was wholly incapable of leading wisely and would inevitably drag the kingdom into ruin.

Since no opposition—or, really, any response—came her way, Lisbeth took it as a clear green light. The poison would go in tonight. Easy enough, considering she had been the one delivering meals to Florian’s chamber ever since every other servant flat-out refused to work in the northern tower.

Her main challenge was Florian’s obnoxious refusal to eat what was served to him. Occasionally, he would eat, but those instances were rare, almost as rare as common sense in a villain.

Lisbeth needed to find a way to ensure he’d actually swallow the poison. Ideally, he’d finish the meal, and his death would be swift and painless—a final mercy, her last apology.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself before the door. In her hands, a tray held a bowl of artificial blood, laced with a toxin designed specifically for vampires.

Human poisons were useless against them, which was why specialized toxins had been crafted for both vampires and werewolves—though Lisbeth had never understood why.

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they existed. Without them, how else could she carry out this impossible task?

She pushed the door open and set the tray on the table. The chamber was dark and seemingly empty. Holding her breath, she stepped inside, scanning the shadows for any sign of Florian. He had a habit of retreating to corners, so that was where her gaze lingered.

"Flo?" she called. Silence pressed in around her. "Florian?"

The windows were shut, the heavy drapes undisturbed. No sign of him slipping away to hunt in the nearby towns. She exhaled, relieved, and took another cautious step forward.

For a brief moment, she considered leaving. Maybe tonight would be her lucky night—maybe Florian would drink the blood without question, without resistance.

But she couldn’t take that chance. If there was even the slightest possibility he would ignore it, she needed to be here, ready to act. She still wasn’t sure how, but if the worst came to pass, she would force it down his throat if she had to.

The syringe in her pocket, filled with the same poison, was her last resort. Its presence made her uneasy, but she forced herself to remain steady.

A voice rasped from the darkness. "Your Highness."

She froze. His voice wasn’t always this hoarse. It had become that way from too much screaming. Too much crying.

Lisbeth turned sharply, sharpening her hearing to track him in the gloom. "Flo? Where are you? I can’t see you."

The fact that he called her Your Highness confirmed it was Florian—or at least, that’s what Lisbeth wanted to believe.

A young vampire emerged from the shadows. His shirt was rumpled but free of blood, which was a small relief. His face, however, was another story—drawn, pained, and unnervingly hollow.

Lisbeth had to fight the instinct to rush to him, to check if he was alright. Something felt off. She couldn’t explain it, but her gut screamed at her to keep her distance.

"I’m scared. Aren’t you scared?" Florian’s voice wavered, his brow furrowing in a way that made him look heartbreakingly lost.

It would be easy to believe him. Easy to fall for the tremor in his voice, the distress in his eyes.

But Lisbeth chose to trust her instincts.

When Florian took a step forward, she stepped back. They moved like dancers on fragile glass, each carefully testing the other’s intentions.

Then he extended a hand toward her. "Help me, Your Highness."

That was when Lisbeth knew.

This wasn’t Florian. Whatever had taken hold of him—demon, madness, or something far worse—had fully seized control and was wearing him like a mask.

"Stay away from me!" she hissed.

"Aren’t you sorry for me? I thought I saw pity in your eyes," Florian said. His voice was shifting, distorting into something unfamiliar, and he kept moving toward her.

Lisbeth stepped back. She hated how obvious her retreat was—how hard it was to look strong when she was literally trying to avoid him. "Why should I? I know what you are."

"Oh? Do you, Princess?" Florian sneered. The expression was all wrong, completely out of place. His movements grew fluid, unnaturally graceful, like a performer gliding across a stage.

"You’re not Florian!" Lisbeth spat, gritting her teeth. She couldn’t lose. If this was the darkness taking over, then she had no reason to pity him. No reason to hold back. She would subdue him and force the toxin down his throat if she had to.

But could she?

Her hands were trembling, no matter how much she willed them to be steady. Her legs felt weak beneath her. How could she fight like this?

Calm down, she told herself. Breathe.

This thing had taken a form now. A body. That meant she could fight it—unlike when it had only been a shadow.

Florian’s expression darkened, his features twisting into something menacing. A cold, creeping fear crawled along Lisbeth’s skin, and she hated it. She refused to let fear paralyze her. If she was going to force this thing to drink the toxin, she might as well do it now.

She lunged.

Her hand darted into her pocket, fingers closing around the syringe. In one swift motion, she pulled it free, aiming to plunge the needle into his skin. The impact sent them both crashing to the floor, with Lisbeth landing on top.

For a brief, exhilarating moment, victory seemed within reach—until Florian caught her wrist.

His grip was inhuman. Effortlessly, he twisted her arm as if it were nothing more than a fragile branch. Before she could react, he raised his other hand and struck her across the face. The force sent her flying, her body slamming into the far side of the room.

Dazed, she struggled to push herself up.

Florian rose to his feet with unnerving ease, his lips stretching into a grin—too wide, his mouth curving past the limits of vampire anatomy. The unnaturalness of it made Lisbeth’s stomach turn.

"Very funny, Princess," he purred, his voice dropping into a guttural growl.