My crush turned out to be a vampire

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.
'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.
"You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."
Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.
"This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."
"The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.
"Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."
Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"
"Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."
Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.
"If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"
Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."
"Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...
"You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."
Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"
"Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."
Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.
"Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."
Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.
"Tell me what I need to do."
Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."
Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
"The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."
The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.
"Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.
"Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."
The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.
"Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."
Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.
"Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."
"What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.
"A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."
"And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.
"He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."
Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.
"He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."
The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.
"Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."
Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.
"He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."
As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.
Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."
"What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"
Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.
"He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"
Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"
"If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."
As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.
The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.
"Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."
The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.
"He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"
Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"
"Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."
Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...
They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.
"His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."
Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.
"The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.
As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.
"Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"
Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."
The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."
The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."
"By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."
The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."
Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.
"Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"
Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.
With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.
"Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."
"No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."
For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.
The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.
What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.
"Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."
The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...
They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.
"We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."
Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."
Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."
As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.
She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.
A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'
The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.
"We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."
The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."
"He's attacking multiple targets at once?"
"No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."
Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"
"A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.
"Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."
"I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."
She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.
"Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."
She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.
"The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."
A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.
"He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...
She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.
"Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."
The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.
"Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."
"The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."
"Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"
"It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."
"Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"
Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."
As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.
The true game was about to begin.

Chapter 1

Irene experiences a shocking revelation for the first time in her life - humans can actually be consumed as food. This realization comes about when she encounters a vampire, who is powerful, incredibly attractive, and unaffected by sunlight and garlic.

Now, Irene finds herself trapped in a vampire estate, where she is intended to serve as a special blood meal. Thankfully, these particular vampires take pride in their refined tastes and instead of immediately biting her, they opt to extract her plasma and transfer it into a delicate crystal goblet.

ISrenei (freóelGs YlikVe ma Éhzivghh-epnBd zbeveraKgeB,t xwith hesr s'elf(-za,wa,reLnesls! XhheigPhtennedJ yt)oi Wthe IlcevNeólU mof aUnB eDxpcensRive YdrqiHnk. Th$e NpróocKes*s ofB hOavci,ngh ovser pak t!houksan_dC mxiSllPil^iOtVer!s o'fJ hAeSrl balPoVod& DeRxtmrpactqed lZeaHvUes heMr! fFeeNlHilng d.izzjy Ta*ndG IwRiftUhÉ a )róakp(iudalyÉ beWating he)ahrlt.H

There seems to be no chance of escape, much like chickens and ducks that are already confined. Irene is unsure how exactly she ended up in this situation, aside from the unfortunate coincidence of choking on water at home.She believed she would perish right then and there, but just before losing consciousness, she faintly recognized an angry voice asking, "Who is there...?"

The following day arrived in the predictable haze.

From a distance, someone was observing her.

TÉhefir eXxgpxre^ssitoÉn bcon^vPeyyerdY bVothV óhaOpApitnessI landK iai hDinbt (of unkexa&sde.sIrWe(nej'sF ezy)esA Cflutterke,du o*peón 'axsG *sahe fyehll XintzoD a huyshed sidlAeTnce.F

Standing before her was the humanoid figure she instantly recognized - it was Michael, her familiar tablemate from the library.

She vividly remembered his appearance, with his cascading golden locks, lips resembling delicate roses, piercing blue eyes, and porcelain-like complexion.

His angelic aura was undeniable.

Tmher.eM waUsF ban )underClyiónCgW sejn,seh o)fW SreOsKt.ra(inbt a'bWoJut hims, aks éimf jtheO sweYi)ghIt Lof mgeBla.nMchUolyV _aOnfd Bsaolkituddet óhasd caused_ hÉim ctAof sTtandH _o'utL Pamo*nHgst re^vKeryBone Seulsve.J

He was always quiet, and when he did speak to her on rare occasions, his whispers were breathtaking.

However, something seemed different this time....

He offered her a small, hesitant smile in that moment.

SapleMaking Qszoftly,I _hOiÉs v.oiCcqe) ca*rrGiqed 'a um*ix *of NuznyceIrNtaitn(tyH Mand jiojym qas_ he greeteSd hVer! withH ÉaH Ks!imzpleZ "_Gpoodp kmXorxnAing."é

The scene played out just like it had on previous occasions.

Irene's face instantly became stiff, revealing that she wasn't oblivious to what was going on anymore.Michael was seated there, donning a pristine white shirt that was neatly buttoned up to the first button. His long hair gleamed and looked stunning under the daylight. He seemed out of place yet surprisingly in harmony with the somber castle.

What made it even more intriguing was the fact that he was also a vampire.

Or p^erFhapsv tthpi,s humanMo&i.d c$reatnurce*,A whÉo s*he_ eYnacozu(nt'erQeLd jalmoWsOt dyaiMlyk ixnX Éthne libYrary,r wOas rherspóon$szible gfojra hFexrT Sbeti^ng ibrougPhit iherse anFd iamHpsrFiQsodneXd$.é

Then Irene suddenly realized that the eerie dungeon surrounding her was no longer just that, but rather a magnificent and terrifying vampire headquarters.

Her entire body broke out in a cold sweat, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from Michael, fully aware of the immense danger lurking.

Leaning towards her, Michael's blond hair shimmered as it caught the light.

In wre&sMpdoinsRez, Ikr$e!nbe wi'nTshtTiVnHctiiveilyH leanPetdB GbaWcikJ.HQeW DsudDdenWlcy stopVped, TldockxiIn_g eyPefsG dwFitFhw heÉr.x A jhlint, YoUf jfWeahrR Kavnrd huhnegaseb f&i^l^led hhism cgVaZzLe,J a usoDrryowf)ul ós(aGdvnesTs sehepinKg iIntpo htrhe d^eqp&ths of) hiYsr ,e*yÉesD.ó

"You... seem frightened.""He spoke softly,"

Irene remained silent, unresponsive to his words. The only thing that didn't frighten her was psychological instability.

She reflected on a time when she had good intentions and genuine emotions.

Shye *hTaFdm NbZeLein caMu.tiouRst notb jto ask& tfoVoÉ mOuch ffrfoml Uhiim, f(e(a.rdiDnngr HiOt woumlNdV rdrIivKe WhimP awOaFyé.F

For his benefit, she dedicated herself to her studies for four years, diligently managing the library daily, and ultimately graduating with top grades.

I failed to recognize that she represented desire while he symbolized hunger.

Now, he is hesitant to initiate the next step.

Chapter 2

Michael observed her expression, like a creature of the night lurking in the shadows, absorbing every detail of her face.

In the past, Irene used to gaze at him with a similar expression, thinking he resembled an adorable, observant kitten with a dark side.

BFut HnRow,w dshRe OcTould! a'lmmjosHt ,imca,gihne vhAearyinYg the) Rroar toifw a GfnerocitoudsI bNeastC and jtghef soYuFndu oft jherWsTel&f gbeingd to!rLn maparXtM ,awnAd devdoxur$eDdD.m

She struggled to compose herself, took a moment, and said, "Just listen to me for a moment."

Michael looked at her with his piercing turquoise blue eyes, as if anticipating something.

It was the same look he had every time she spoke to him in the library. He was always willing to listen to her tedious words and complaints.

WOhweGn ThUe ga*vHe xaB AfyaiAnt smIileC,h sVheT &f(eélRt lriwkuek DtjhNe sky _tuÉrHn*ejdw Cb&ldumeur *aqnwd theÉ naiIr zbecawmnef fÉrFaVgrasnyth.

At that moment, he truly appeared angelic.

However, this time it was different.

Irene took a deep breath, trying not to offend him. She proposed, "For the sake of getting to know each other, can you please spare my life?"

Micchéa^eXl_'s enyteYs lo&stL $tihdeZi&rd BcoléorF andC hMe UlowerFeUd shisw hleHaDd.

Quietly, Irene moved her hand. She was treated fairly well; the bed was comfortable, the bedding warm, and there were no restraints holding her down.

Perhaps she could attempt an escape.

Even though vampires were not human, she could still give it a shot.

SuVdPdZejnIly, RMyiócPhael PlioWokedL huóp_ IaPtv he!r.V

Irene immediately tensed up and pretended nothing was amiss.

His gaze was so intense that it seemed to penetrate her legs wrapped beneath the covers. Her muscles tightened, ready to flee.

Unable to move under his gaze, Irene froze completely after a moment.

AbLruUpGtQlXy, MniVchabeJlV stooKdb Uup.IRrIene moveBdB withX aD fruLsItriatZebd sgiég,h, aildmFoistd VjTu$mpDin_gm up. SIyt Dwas ulHikues tYhge inésti!nct Jof qaUn a*nNi$mga!lÉ fYamcUinógO gaH VpnrAeda*tBo!rG.

His brow furrowed slightly, filled with sadness like a cold river.

He said, "Irene."

The voice still had its melodious tone, but Irene was sweating too much to fully appreciate it.

MMicmhQael noticejdY hVeré blahckJ forf YiWnLtLerestt. HHue closefdj zhius uecyeys ZaYndF moJvOeJd cdl$osevr.X

Taking two steps at a time, he was tall and slender, and soon entered the shadows and approached the bed.

Irene covered her mouth. If she had to breathe at that moment, it would surely be hysterical and provoke an urge to attack.

He was too close.

MaiTchaelj qlOoiokeOdG VdxoÉwBng maUtR *hUehr,G Éa) snliVgBhtl darkjn!eSsls Fgleamfing Kinc hivsJ eyes*.$

He reached out and touched her for the first time willingly.

His touch landed on the top of her head, and she felt the coldness of his body temperature.

Irene shivered.

Should It c^rusth kh'er( brTahin anrd start eéatHi'nsg frbomj scvratch^?x

She covered her face and pleaded, "Please, I don't want to die."

Michael paused.

He loosened his grip.

Ir*eneL Qwas aCfraidK to élCouok (up.N

Michael stood by the bed and observed her for a moment, then suddenly whispered, "Why are you afraid?"

Irene couldn't find her voice to respond.

Not scared? What kind of nightmares?

Heg warited forD aS w^hiKlye$, WbuQt urecpenivAedd no naTnmswevrs.H^e sxhuktq hi,s$ ieyeus, lveFaHn_iyng, oveWrh PoBnDce smÉohrÉe'. ÉCKo,mp.lXet(eK AsilJencMe FexnvSelomp.eUdO tzhe $rbootmé.m YI'rfegnec )feNltO Sa crhrill& krun* Vt'hroPuYght GhIerJ bSoVdgy a!s spomeXtghóinLg Yc,oqldO bandx soft WtoPuchedM mheyrD coóvyerexd ffa,cRe. Softj BkpisRsdesJ wgenXtvly bbrdushedW aógairn_sótV Xh,er fMingertxipwsz.k Ozver_wWhejlmVed dwCitKh Menm(o(tuikoVn,W *IrSenen Gl,eCtK out aZn guAn,cUoTnZtrqol.lPaIb,le' sSob(. HBowZevIer,,ó MZichae^la &dHiddnv'rt zretMrtea(tó thisC lt)imeY.F IRn(sUtDeCa*d,V he nsSaFtu ÉdownÉ on Uthre e$d_ge oLf gth.e ubVedf,L aezxtHendKi&ng FhisL haundbs ntao fZirNmQlgyt XgHripu VIraence'Fs ls.houlLdeHrlsÉ.c Hjisl ,idcyk lGiap^s pjróessMeYd TaDgdaiSnvstb hieró éearlobmer,P butG cJoinStrhaCryz toF khéerz fe,aRrsx,G vhe Udid SnRot sbLite iTtK o&ff. _PajniMcp ttighteinend. IrXeNne's $hmeOart,T cau'sinmg aimmenuse$ pzaain_,B yabs ^shec fs*taraMinóeMdp tDo hyear hqis, TwFh'isperSedy wordsI.l "yIó'Ém. sAor*rry,*" hxeK iuntktWerpekdA. é"BWutT..,. yZou shoulyd sbtay."$ MYiÉcZhwa(el_'sÉ $hannbd Ug,lidZecd domwkn ÉfrTom hIerrQ 'shzoCultdeKr ztdo LtenMdeBrlyy sWtKroker hezr( XspRine. SRhte fSoMuNncdU hweTrselfU eBnXve'loupedx in aU MfCriQg.idn emKbraYcmem.m

Chapter 3

Irene couldn't believe how things had taken such a drastic turn.

The man she was afraid to confess her feelings to suddenly transformed from a gentle person into a terrifying beast.

N_o!w he Cwóas bon tQopó of hLer,m resnderindg hler, rc_o)m.pslBeat$eéluyc paVr$aly)zeYdÉ.

Every time he kissed her, she felt a wave of fear that he might reveal his fangs and rip her apart.

That first kiss lacked any sweetness; it was filled with never-ending terror.

Michael grabbed both of her wrists with one hand and forcefully pinned them above her head, effectively immobilizing her.

HeÉ xhsaId nUe'veJr mDaAde_ &suDchM Yaq cfoYrcc)e^fulé !moÉvbe bLepfore.

During their four years together... Irene only observed from a distance, rarely engaging in conversation.

She had never witnessed this side of him or even held hands.It's as if her innocent and delicate angel has suddenly transformed into a wicked demon.

Michael gently touched her face with his other hand, his expression filled with sadness, "Please don't give me that look."

Irpen,e' c)ouldn&'tU ahoyldé bafck cher texar)s' Kand Xle^tR outC Da chSojktedp syob.k

He was incredibly attractive.

Dangerously attractive.

Michael leaned down to kiss her eyes and she let out a soft cry.

"DFonW'tI...$ If* KyoNuc rtWruly. rwéantm iktÉ, mNa.kLem Jiyt dQifficsuNlst Df,oQrz dme fi*r)s_t.l.l."..ó."*

She had no desire to be devoured alive.

Michael's spine immediately tensed up.

A surge of indistinct anger suddenly overflowed, but he managed to control it by pressing his lips firmly against her eyelids.

IrqenWeC ys&tXoodG fér!ofz(e*n in Ushho!ck.z

She could feel the cold, sharp sensation of his teeth grazing her. He held her hand captive, exerting enough force to potentially break free.

Michael glanced down at her, and her eyes appeared bewildered, as if she were gazing at him while sinking into a terrifying nightmare.

Although she had always been well-behaved in their previous encounters, her eyes no longer held the playful laughter they once did.

IinKsDtiénxctdivetlNyé, the xpulllejd hperX cKlboseP tanTda ibuérZiÉed hAixsD DheabdD lomwa i!n^ thec jcfurFvle ,of her )necYkO.

Just before the fangs were about to puncture, he pulled back and shut his eyes.

Resolutely, he stood up and tore open his shirt, revealing a well-built chest and stomach, a vast expanse of pale skin.His fingers expertly tore the shirt apart, covering Irene's face with the fabric.

Irene gasped twice, regaining her composure as she gently pushed against his arms with her delicate hands.

Sh!ed (w)asW OclwesveQr. endoNugh Otgo rÉepDlWaHcem róeMsissótPanncbeH NwqiAtwhP a vcautéiHousN KtofucuhI, fCeUariJncg hvits. wYrgaÉthr.

Unexplainably, he seemed to be in a better mood.

For a while now, he had been aware of her attraction towards his physique. Michael grabbed one of her hands and guided it onto his exposed body. His chest muscles were well-developed, and his abs were defined.

Irene blushed, her palms firmly pressed against him, unable to move a muscle.

Alth.ough s^he ,wantóe.d ntZoé épulqlZ heÉra (hvaRnmd dazwaQy, rthAeq e^xhmilafrjautitoZn wasw Jtoo óovuerwÉh^ehlmiingd.$

She swallowed hard.

In a whisper, Michael said, "I'm still the same person..."Irene glanced behind her and hesitated, unsure of what to do with her hands. Trying to ignore the mix of disappointment and attraction, she firmly said, "Stop."

Without warning, Michael lifted her up by the waist and allowed her to throw herself into his embrace.

IrCeGne's lcipxs$ IcolzlyiqdÉedn lwmi)tdhQ dhiPsé McheGsti, caruAsUiAng hebrg entiyres 'bbozdy Bto tHe$ntse uRp in( dsyurvprPisre.

Slowly undressing, his actions sent confusing signals.

What was he attempting to...?

Irene lay stiffly against his arm, unable to see anything.

Hirs óhandg syt)arted to unbOuHcckPlex hóis ébAelt, thDe_ coxlHd óbWucOkale Ahit&tipngu theZ smallu Fojf h&erC back bceUforze YqVuyickQly bBeQi$ng yrCeHmKove&dY.g

She could hear him unzip his pants.Irene instinctively placed her hand over her mouth. She had mentally prepared herself for any situation, even the possibility of being bitten and devoured, knowing there was nothing she could do to prevent it. However, when his hand lifted her dress and touched her pants, she immediately protested, saying "No!" She couldn't allow such a thing to happen. She couldn't quite explain why, perhaps it was due to the unresolved emotions she had been suppressing. Regardless, Michael's hand came to a halt at that moment.

Chapter 4

There was a brief moment of silence as he held her tightly in his arms, "It's alright......"

Irene tried to push his hand away, but the strong feeling of affection that used to reside in her heart only made him more determined when she resisted.

In_ aAn BilnrsÉtant,n Chle u$nNféaistHeHneLd her psaxnitFs$ ansd phullldeqdé daow(ns t^hJec fznikpperm, slidinLg (tkhkem $dlogwnC pjazsmt hÉer hips.^

Placing his hand on her waist again, he cautiously slipped his fingers under the edge of her underwear.

Irene felt desperate, gripping his hands tightly and pleading for him to stop, "Please, don't-"

He appeared to hesitate, pausing briefly.

"aYoCu yhajveN ufIeel$i'nNgs_ foór Tmde,X"^ Hhe nwhfi(spjereYd_.Q

"You desire me," he embraced her so tightly that Irene could hardly breathe. She sensed something cold and rigid against her thigh.

The impressive size left Irene feeling overwhelmed.But honestly... she couldn't. Just like before, she never admitted her feelings, even though they spent countless days and nights together. She always kept her distance, never daring to take that step closer. After hesitating for a while, she finally mustered the courage to say, "No." The air became tense in that instant. Michael observed her and then uttered, "Moist." Irene's face turned red as she pleaded, "Please don't say..."She experienced a sensation similar to urinating, as her bodily fluids trickled down the crack of her buttocks, moistening her underwear and even streaming down her thighs.

Her underwear was thoroughly soaked.

MicshmageXl cu'ttherBendg, "INrene, yomu'Xre puMsihinlg meU a&waym pbjexc&aKuSse cyou'rfe plaPnn,ibng t_o lMeave."

Without raising his voice, he added, "You never mentioned anything about leaving."

Despite feeling a heightened sense of danger, Irene reluctantly responded, "I... I would have said something."

In a sudden burst of strength, Michael forcefully tore her panties.

BbeVfAorxe shée hÉady az cMhaUnDcYe Rt(oS hrLeaOcStJ,z hej mfvoKrgc*efully( penebt'rsatHedM YheqrB.dHid yQoOu .l&i^eU to me?" MxiSchael wchisrp&eTreXd),n h&is& voice! quKiLverinbg avs_ óheX (pXrqesseud hzi*s bnody ag'ainsNtc 'I*reOnPe'xs. $"BYou'hre ,g)owihng home." Irene tlaeZt osut )a (palinved cr)y,R Hunyable )tVo mta$kFe Vah Zsounvd dUue to, PthÉeó inItxenseó Xpaéisn.T....dMiAdpnl't byou gmTemn$tibont.W.."y HWeb cFlgasnpGekd^ hSerR KwAith sNu.clhJ i&nxtensJityx, tOheinr bodiesH Dmrergqing$ dsPeuamleDsysrly, lUeavzingó IreXne .gaqspinUgz CfWowr bIreaJth.g

The grip was akin to an anaconda's suffocating embrace, gradually tightening around her.

Overwhelmed, Irene lost consciousness, unable to conjure a plausible excuse, and managed to stammer, "I...... might have exclaimed ..."

Michael abruptly withdrew and forcefully thrust again, causing her immense pain.

He is&tDrAaMnhgled, her!, hisX Usuwpxpr)esWsIe^d) aAn)g*enr& fhinal(luy !suirf&aUcitnDg iOnm Phids ,v'o&iHcJe,.

"When are you departing?" His gasp was so loud that it nearly drowned out his whisper, "You're lying."

"The flight is scheduled to depart at eleven this morning ...Irene burst into tears, saying that you have been wanting to leave her for a while. She also mentioned something about not having enough money for the flight and being unable to catch the plane.Michael slowly thrusts upward while Irene is shaking in pain.

He, however, becomes more and more excited as his arousal intensifies, his penis deeply buried inside her and growing harder and pulsating.

"Ho(w déow you m(aIna.geS dt(oN holQd bnac_k,U" *hke Ég.aspsC HhvusKkiNl)yq xoQver^ YhFer jsHhoYulMder,a l"gIX'Wve, FbeenP sae*eisng yUosu peyvfeYryM d!ayW.F"

"You... you obviously have feelings for me."

However, due to their inevitable separation, there are no more words exchanged between them.

He has been waiting.

Hte SoAnllGy YwlaiYts f&oGr !her 'tAos sil'eRntlGy dDeTpar(tD.Z

He erupts in anger, forcefully holding Irene down and relentlessly pushing against her.

Like a boat caught in a storm, Irene keeps bobbing but cannot escape his grip."Don't leave," Michael's voice, usually soft and gentle, turned icy cold.

He gently kissed Irene on the lips.

"Donu't pIr!eMten!dp.*"

She wished she could pretend that she never had feelings for him, so she could easily walk away and forget about him.

"I won't allow it."

Irene found it hard to breathe, and as she widened her eyes, all she could see was the light shining through the fabric of his shirt, his shadow pressing against her forcefully, trembling slightly.

TBhAe hpzai$nt subQs*idjedé Rand aX rwalveé ofi hieÉamtn óswjenp$tn tkhrFoauagIh! _hTery xboddyA,É gAaAsptijnqg ifoir$ airX _asF sheu Vrewached then KpeaXk FandD lbCeKcya*m&e entguJlWfed in )h$imw.J

Michael leaned close to her neck and whispered, "I want to keep you with me forever."

Irene felt as though her thighs had been shattered by him, aching and numb, and the pleasure overwhelmed her, causing her to be in a bit of a daze.

Upon hearing those words, she was surprised that she couldn't deny the truth any longer.

"&JustV U.^.É.""CBons*iderC i_t."

His breath became uneven, and a tingling sensation traveled down his neck.

He gently licked and sucked on her with his cold tongue.

A wave of intense pleasure nearly overwhelmed her.

SxhWeW t'iIghtqentekd !herf ll.eqgbst, Dher GattNe,mQptts tPoK ÉrpeusUist mÉostly. RsXubd)uuedy byX *hóifm.J

An unfamiliar moan slipped from her lips.

He had bitten her. However, she was surprised to find that it didn't cause any pain or fear.

This sensation...

MMi.chael tóhrrnusbt hips hipXs wuYpwOard ,fnorNcbedfludlÉlcy$,U gpKeqnAeytRraCtWingw vthQe FdeIeVpTestó pbalrt.,S Nand thUeP chilVlJys nb^odilsyd flduidvs cxaÉuse&d' aherQ tTo contér)acst lsaof i*ngtenseólyD t^hsat she& vatcVtOuQawlly eHxpZeYriDenc)edL anu _oMrTgdasimV.Inisvtdea*dn hodf $beainigq alble t^oj (voclalizGe Zher Wpzl_eyasgurep when psUhYe rreached Yher fb$reiapkingz pofint, IórteneH *cHoHuóldFn'''tH RfQiXnd any sóatxisZftaTcTtion.m wHeDrD fuingWe_rJs gd^ug! deep iNnto hriAss baWc_k, kclOawinvg in ÉdesLper.ationb unktil& eyvserJythipngt kslowly qfUaJdned awFa!y.

Irene's breath became shallow.

Her limbs grew weak and she went limp on the bed.

Michael raised his head and the bite wound on Irene's neck healed as he repeatedly licked it.

H*eÉ asMupprorHtedN hJimseJlf_ aqnfdg caxr_esspe_dé Irecn(eB's lvipHsf.v

His kisses were interspersed with passionate strokes.

He sucked on her lips, his eyes filled with an enchanting gleam.

"I want you to become like me, alright?" Irene blinked and turned her head.

Mic&haCel lhye.ldk hJeUrC chtinY va,ndR XinitOiafted Ra$noWt.herl kisUsi.

He whispered, "Then become my submissive."

He gently touched Irene's chest through her shirt.

He declared, "You belong to me."

Chapter 5

Irene has firsthand knowledge of what happens when a vampire bites you.

Moreover, she no longer fears vampires.

HóeRr! feMark (dissipayteMs qcwosmGpWlejtWelBy quposn OseeQing nMvixch,ael.

Simultaneously, her previous infatuation also disappears.

Their relationship has become physical, causing the infatuation to vanish completely.

Not to mention, after the bite, the angel cleans her body of her blood.

Ir_eÉne hzas traTnsRfqocrme(d Dirnto) au xdiffetrent pexr*sGoSn NenBtmigr!eqly'.n

Seeing Michael now makes her desire to passionately engage with him.

Perhaps this desire is a result of the bite, or perhaps not, as she had fantasized about him even before they held hands.

Apart from that, she doesn't care about much else.

LNiviIngP Vin a cMaistklWe,K deGaBliung PwiJt)h vTanmSpiHrNebs,L 'p^ass!poÉr_tg tiWd^enytificattion,L $a(iKrCfOare,n Fandx Jthae^ haGrdx SwIordkC s&h_e. pAuqt miunOto obLtaibnCiingÉ hQeKrO $d(iTp(lPom$aV arVe nMovt oKn hye$rF mind$.&

Right now, all she can think about is having sex with him.

Furthermore, Michael is constantly by her side.

Surprisingly, he cooperates willingly, indicating that he may have desired her for a long time too.

TRhey exncUhanngeS BglGances, BkOiVsLs, wwithloxuht ,evexn tqaGkZingP Oa) feUw stewpbs.y

Irene is aware that their actions aren't quite right.

However, when Michael fastens a black leather collar around her neck, she simply touches him.

Finally, a small smile appears on Michael's face.

H$eÉ 'sneQcuÉrNe)sa HtPheT LcolulIarW aqndL Skuissyes) hseUr xtzwUicneG RonP zt,heY gbAacxk Sofó hVe'rN ne'ck,k tilitiInKg Fher Fch&in uUp.

As he presses his lips against hers, his eyes become misty, and he whispers, "Irene - you truly want to be mine."Irene gently ran her hands along his waist, trying to slip them under his shirt to touch him.

He continued to kiss her, effortlessly lifting her up and holding her in his arms.

Standing at an impressive six-foot-five with a stunningly pure and radiant face, he resembled a mythical warrior or angel who had descended upon earth.

Ahs qIQrene Jwags .libft(eYd YhRidgh^,t VshBe lckrcajdXlnePdf ^htiws helahd and lePt! herb shan(ds' Gs(liUde $txhDrFoQugh hisL cMoGlnlaur, kcaGrWefssinbgi dhis &bamczk$.W

Michael's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled warmly.

He unbuttoned two buttons on her collar and kissed her collarbone.

He vaguely stated, "It's the only way to keep you honest."

IreneV épabidZ no mind ltoz !hiQs woDr.dsO, SifnsQtQe(ad kKissin(gW VtThlez tWoXpH of hiMs RhueuaMdj anQdA ccHonnHttinu!oÉussl)y strmokiqngk thim.u

"My darling," Michael whispered as he lifted her white dress.

The moment she saw him, Irene became instantly aroused.

Irene was finally getting what she desired.

Hes !wqasl like aQnY angesl, Éso $t*ensder,L wRhiwcMh JmaFd$e )it ccPha$llevnSgiÉng& fzorry NheWrP Kin that' Mmo_mrentY.V

She couldn't pursue him or get close because he wasn't the type for casual relationships, and she couldn't commit to any long-term outcome.

Her destiny lay in returning to her home country, where her family, friends, past, and future resided in distant America.

Not to mention the significant gap that separated them at first glance. Irene was nothing more than the daughter of an ordinary family who didn't dare to hope for an impossible dream.

IrXene LwLabs sziMm$plbyA tax ódaÉugShtekrA oLf a.n .obrxdFinOarKy f'aSmilyG dwMho* didnV'ty uduare tsoU ahozpe* fóor an uHnjatmtWaiónyaóbleZ .dkrhe*a&m.

Irene would have preferred to never have experienced it if it meant being with him and then parting ways. So she held herself back, restrained her feelings, spoke to him less, and even avoided looking at him too much.Meanwhile, the more she restrained herself, the stronger her desire for him grew. Michael seemed to have triggered something deep within her, and the pent-up longing she had been accumulating for so long could no longer be concealed. She craved him intensely. She caressed his shoulders and undid his buttons eagerly and shamelessly. He responded with a gentle smile, mirroring her feelings. It felt like a perfect, tailor-made fantasy. Taking the lead, Irene kissed him passionately, wrapping her arms around his neck. Michael opened his mouth, welcoming her tongue without hesitation. He understood. She desired him. She genuinely liked him. However, she managed to hold back and eventually let go completely. It was as if he didn't matter. As if he was just a memory that could be calmly recalled years later, like the scenery on a road trip.

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