My Husband’s White Snake Was His First Love, and I Was Her Blood Bag Novel – Chapter 1 My husband gifted me a small white snake for our anniversary. I walked straight out with it, took it to an old apothecary, and had them steep the thing in a jar of medicinal wine. Because I had already died once and come back. In my last life, I had treated that white snake like a treasure. Rare tonics, imported delicacies — nothing was too good for it. I even let it sleep in a temperature-controlled Verdant Reliquary. And all it ever did was bite me. In the beginning, it only wound around my wrist at night and sipped a few drops of my blood. Later, it started sliding beneath my blankets, driving its fangs into my throat, feeding on me night after night until my skin went the color of ash. I pleaded with my husband to get rid of it. He rounded on me instead. “Celeste was my anniversary gift to you.
You can’t stand to keep one little snake?” My daughter flung herself in front of the glass case, sobbing. “Mommy’s so mean! Celeste is way better than you!” Every last drop of my lifeblood was wrung out of me, and I died on my birthday. But my soul didn’t move on. I lingered, and I watched that white snake slither off my body and reshape itself into a fragile, beautiful woman who ran straight into my husband’s arms. He kissed her, his eyes rimmed red. “Celeste. Three whole years trapped as a snake — you’ve suffered enough. Now that her lifeblood is yours, you can finally take human form again.” My daughter rushed over, beaming, and called the woman Mama. That was the moment it all made sense. The snake had been my husband’s first love, who had died young. And I had only ever been the blood bag they kept alive to feed her. … On our anniversary, my husband gave me a small white snake.
His voice was soft. “Claire, I looked everywhere for her. She’s a spirit snake, the kind people say appears only once in a century. Keep her close, and she’ll calm your nerves, bring some color back to your face, and even ward off bad luck. Do you like her?” Our six-year-old, Elena Navarro, was already pressed close to the glass case, her eyes lit up. “Mommy, I named her Celeste! Isn’t that a pretty name?” I lowered my gaze. Inside the glass, the little white snake lay coiled in a neat loop, scales bright as snow, eyes so black they gleamed. “Mommy, pet Celeste! She’s really sweet.” I smiled and reached inside. The snake lunged. Its fangs buried themselves in my fingertip before I could even flinch. A bead of blood welled up at once. Elena shrieked — but not for me. She snatched the glass case and hugged it to her chest, glaring up at me. “Mommy, don’t jerk around like that! You frightened Celeste!” Owen Navarro grabbed my wrist. He checked the snake first. Then my finger. Only then did he breathe out. “Relax. She’s just marking her owner. When Celeste bites you, that means she likes you.” I stared at him.
Likes me. In my last life, he had fed me those exact words. And I had swallowed them whole. I was terrified of snakes. But I didn’t want to throw his gift back in his face, and I wanted Elena to smile, so I swallowed my disgust and devoted myself to caring for the thing. I fed it rare tonics and imported delicacies. I paid seven figures at auction for a Verdant Reliquary just for it to sleep in. I polished every last scale with a warm silk cloth. And still, I was the only one it ever bit. In the beginning, it would wind around my wrist at night and take just a few drops of blood. I told myself it was only hungry. Then it began slithering under my blankets to sink its fangs into my neck. Then it simply refused to let go. That cold body would cinch tight around my waist, fangs sunk deep, drinking and drinking through the whole night until my skin faded to gray. I begged Owen to get rid of it. His expression turned to ice. “Claire, Celeste was my anniversary gift to you. You can’t even tolerate one snake?” Elena threw herself in front of the glass case, sobbing.
“Mommy’s so mean! Celeste is way better than you!” Night after night, I grew weaker, until I couldn’t stay on my feet without bracing myself against a wall. Even in broad daylight, I was dizzy and hollowed out. The doctors couldn’t find a single thing wrong. So Owen decided I was making it all up. Making up symptoms for attention.