The taste of blood coming from Luna's mouth was unlike anything I had ever experienced—rich and intoxicating.
It flooded my mouth like liquid fire, each swallow sending shockwaves through my body that made my fingers grip her waist as I dug deeper into her.
I couldn't stop drinking, I couldn't pull away even if I wanted to, and when her lips pressed against mine, I lost all sense and reasoning.
Her tongue slid against mine, tasting the blood as my mind went completely blank.
Why are you so intoxicating? I was puzzled as my thoughts disappeared.
Her plump breast pressed against my chest; I could feel my body reacting.
This had to be a dream. Some wild, fever-induced hallucination brought on by years of starvation and loneliness.
Because there was no universe—no possible reality—where a woman this beautiful, this perfect, would willingly press her body against mine and kiss me like she needed me to breathe.
But she did. And God help me, I kissed her back with everything I had.
Luna moaned into my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair as she pulled me closer.
The blood continued to flow between us, shared in the most intimate exchange I had ever known.
I could feel her slow heartbeat hammering against my chest, and I could taste the sweetness of her desire mixed with the tang of the blood.
It was overwhelming.
When she finally pulled back, I nearly whimpered at the loss. Her face was flushed a deep crimson, her breathing ragged, and her eyes looked at me seductively.
Blood stained her lips, and as I watched, she slowly dragged her tongue across them, collecting every last drop with a sensuality that made my blood surge south.
"Fuck," I breathed, unable to form any other coherent thought.
It was now that I could feel all the blood rushing to my pants. I could no longer contain myself.
Luna smiled, slow and satisfied. "You taste—"
Her words cut off as her body suddenly arched, a strangled cry escaping her throat.
She writhed against me, her hips rolling in an unmistakably carnal rhythm, her head falling back to expose the elegant column of her throat.
I stared, transfixed, as pleasure rippled through her frame, making her tremble and gasp as if she were experiencing something divine.
Then the pain hit.
It started in my chest—a sharp, stabbing sensation that felt like someone had driven a stake directly through my sternum.
I gasped, stumbling backward as my hands flew to clutch at my ribs.
The pain spread outward in waves, consuming me inch by inch until my entire body felt like it was being immolated from the inside out.
"Wha—what's happening?" I managed to choke out, falling to my knees.
"The transformation," Luna said, her breath coming in rapid gasps from whatever ecstasy she had just experienced.
She knelt beside me, her soft, delicate hands caressing my shoulder.
"Your body is changing, Vlad. Becoming what it was always meant to be."
"It hurts," I ground out through clenched teeth. Sweat poured down my face, mixing with the blood still smeared across my mouth.
My vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges as my heartbeat began to slow. Each thump felt labored, like my heart was struggling to remember its purpose.
I'm dying, I thought with sudden, crystal clarity. She poisoned me.
But even as the thought formed, something else was happening.
Heat radiated from my core, so intense that steam began rising from my skin in visible waves.
My muscles twitched and spasmed, then began to expand. Not dramatically—not like some comic book transformation—but enough that I could feel my shirt growing tighter across my shoulders, my pants straining against my thighs.
"Breathe through it," Luna instructed, her voice cutting through the haze of agony. "This is only the beginning. The full transformation will take a week."
A week? If this was just the beginning, I wasn't sure I'd survive the process.
The pain reached a crescendo, then suddenly began to recede, leaving me gasping on the floor like a drowning man who had just broken the surface.
My heart had settled into a new rhythm—slower, but somehow stronger.
I could feel each beat resonating through my entire body, pumping something far more potent than ordinary blood through my veins.
I pushed myself up on shaking arms, my palms pressing against the cold stone floor. The moment my hands made contact, I flinched.
The texture was too rough. I could feel every groove, every imperfection in the stone as if I were reading braille with my entire hand.
The sensation crawled up my arms, making my skin prickle.
Then the sounds hit.
It started as a low hum, like standing too close to a beehive.
But it grew, expanding outward until the world became a cacophony of noise that threatened to split my skull open.
I could hear the scurrying of rats in the walls—no, not just in this building, but in the ones next door.
The rustle of their fur against stone. The scratch of their tiny claws. The rapid patter of their heartbeats.
Footsteps echoed from somewhere above.
Heavy boots on wooden floorboards. The creak of old wood as someone's fat ass moved around.
A door slamming three streets over sounded like thunder in my ears.
Conversations started to bleed together into an incomprehensible symphony.
A woman laughing. A man cursing. Children crying.
All of it crashed over me at once, layering upon itself until I couldn't distinguish one sound from another.
"Make it stop," I begged, my hands flying to my ears. But covering them did nothing. The sounds came from inside my head now, each sense amplified to an unbearable degree.
My throat seized up, dry and parched. It felt like I had walked through an endless desert for months without a single drop of water!
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, rough as sandpaper.
Every breath I took seemed to suck more moisture from my body, leaving me desperate and hollow.
I tried to stand, but my legs didn't respond the way they should.
They moved too fast, with too much power. I lurched forward like a newborn colt, stumbling toward the counter to steady myself.
My hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the edge of the wooden surface. I meant to grip it, to anchor myself while the world spun out of control around me.
The counter exploded.
One moment, it was solid beneath my fingers, and the next, the entire section I'd grabbed disintegrated.
Wood splintered as if it were made of dried leaves. The thick plank, which had probably supported decades of meal preparation, shattered into fragments, some pieces flying across the room while others crumbled to dust in my grip.
I stared at my hand, then at the destruction I'd caused. The counter now had a gaping hole where a two-foot section used to be, with jagged and splintered edges.
Dust motes floated in the air, catching what little light filtered through the boarded ceiling.
"I barely… I didn't even… My voice came out hoarse and strained. "What the fuck did you do to me?"
"Your strength has increased," Luna said, rising gracefully to her feet. She brushed off her dress with a casualness that seemed absurd given the circumstances. "As have all your senses. You'll learn control with time."
"Control?" I wanted to laugh, but it came out as a choked sound. "I can hear someone pissing four buildings away. I can smell blood from—" I paused, my nose twitching. "There's a butcher shop. Seven streets east."
Luna's eyebrows rose, impressed. "Your senses are awakening faster than I expected."
She stepped toward me, and I caught her scent properly for the first time. It hit me like a ton of bricks—jasmine and night-blooming flowers, mixed with something alluring.
She was already sexy before this started. I'm going to lose my mind if she keeps this up.