Page 8 of Viktor's Temptation
“Yes,” she whispered, unable to deny it. His words resonated with a truth she didn’t want to acknowledge.
His fingers tilted her chin upward, and her lips parted slightly in response to the unspoken command. It was as if herbody instinctively obeyed him. The realization sent a chill down her spine.
“Did you notice your fangs drop down?” he asked softly.
Fangs? Gracie recoiled, horrified, as her tongue brushed against something sharp. Her breath caught, and she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. “No… I don’t…!” But the sensation was undeniable. Her tongue probed the area, and there it was—a sharp, pointed tip where nothing had been before.
“Exactly,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her jawline with infuriating gentleness. “Vampire.”
The word hit her like a hot poker, branding itself onto her mind. Vampire. No, not vampire—monster.
“I’m not! Vampires aren’t real. That’s just… some drug-induced writer’s imagination. A figment of fiction. And it’snotfunny.”
He shook his head, his expression softening in the face of her confusion. “I assure you, my dear, there is nothing humorous about your transition.”
Gracie had had enough. Her frustration boiled over, and she blurted, “Who are you?”
The tall, imposing man stepped back and inclined his head in a slight bow, his dark hair catching the light. “My name is Viktor Rastan. I am Lord of the Eastern Territory.” He reached for her hand, his touch light and fleeting, yet it sent another shock through her. “I am now your lord.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.Lord? The word ignited every ounce of resistance in her. Warren had tried tocontrol her, too, demanding submission in a way that had made her skin crawl. When she’d laughed at the absurdity, he’d hit her. Hard.
“I don’t have a lord or a master,” she hissed, backing up. His hand fell away, and an unexpected pang of longing flared within her, shocking her further.
Now blood—maybe she could admit to craving blood. But his touch? Absolutely not. She couldn’t allow herself to crave that. It was too dangerous, too reckless. Craving his touch meant opening the door to the possibility that he might be like Warren—charming at first, but capable of cruelty when things didn’t go his way.
Warren had taught her a brutal lesson about trust, about letting herself lean on someone who wielded their strength as a weapon rather than a shield. Every bruise, every harsh word, had been a warning she’d ignored until it was too late. She couldn’t afford to make the same mistake again.
And yet, Viktor’s presence unsettled her. His touch wasn’t harsh or cruel—it was gentle, deliberate, almost reverent. That made it worse. It was a temptation to let her guard down, to believe that someone could touch her with care rather than control.
But what if it was all an illusion? What if Viktor’s kindness was just another mask, another prelude to pain? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she stiffened against the warmth his presence seemed to radiate.
She didn’t want to crave him. She couldn’t. Because craving his touch meant trusting him, and trusting him meantrisking everything. And she wasn’t sure her heart could survive being broken again.
“I can’t be a vampire,” she declared, her voice wavering as the conviction in her words faltered.
He gestured toward the sofa. “How about you sit down and tell me what you remember of the past few days? Perhaps together, we can make sense of it.”
Reluctantly, she moved back to the sofa and sat, gripping her knees tightly. Her silver eyes darted toward the bag of blood on the table, and she bit her lip, refusing to give in to the temptation.
Viktor sighed, his tone patient but insistent. “Drink it, please. It’s not as good as fresh, but it will help you think clearly.”
“I’m fine,” she said stiffly, pulling her gaze away from the bag.
“Gracie,” he said softly, his voice like velvet. “I don’t think you understand. I am your lord and protector. It is my responsibility to care for every member of my clan, including you.”
His words should have infuriated her, but instead, they gave her a strange sense of calm. Control had always been elusive in her life, slipping through her fingers just when she thought she’d found it. And now, here was this man—thisvampire—offering her protection.
She bristled at the memory of Warren. “I won’t call you ‘my lord.’ Ever. I don’t need anyone to protect me.”
His eyebrow arched again. “Even from the person who transformed you?”
That question stopped her cold. Flashes of the man who had held her captive flooded her mind—the dark room, his leering grin, the other people’s cries of pain. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as tears welled up.
“I don’t even know his name,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He never spoke to me, but he… he did things.”
Viktor’s eyes darkened, the promise of vengeance glinting in their depths. “You didn’t ask for this, then?”
“No!” she cried, a tear sliding down her cheek. The memories were raw and jagged, slicing through her like knives. “I didn’t… I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”
