Page 39 of Viktor's Temptation
Jace leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Only a woman would turn a weakness into a strength.”
Viktor chuckled, but his eyes were serious. “If you can prepare your witches, this could give us an edge.”
Jace’s gaze sharpened. “You think Gracie’s torture is the key to this?”
Sorcia tilted her head, her interest piqued. “Gracie? Who’s Gracie?”
Viktor shifted slightly, as if the name alone unsettled him. “She’s the new vampire I mentioned earlier. She survived her transition but has no memory of who did this to her or why. She’s starting to get flashes of the experience, though.”
Sorcia’s expression brightened, and a teasing smile curled her lips. “And you’re in love with her?”
“Absolutely not,” Viktor replied sharply, punctuating his denial with a snort.
“He will be,” Jace interrupted with a smug grin. “Give him a day, maybe two. He’s already more than halfway there.”
Viktor rolled his eyes. “I’d like to think I’m made of sterner stuff.”
Jace leaned back, arms crossed. “You’re not. She’s your mate.”
Viktor bristled, offended by the term. “Vampires don’t have ‘mates.’”
“Call it what you want,” Jace said with a shrug. “She’s your forever person.”
Sorcia leaned in, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do your eyes glow when you’re around her? Is that a real thing? I’ve heard rumors, but I’ve never seen it myself.”
Viktor sighed, resigned. “A vampire’s eyes glow when we’re aroused.”
“Convenient,” Jace quipped. “So, at dinner, if she touches her neck or brushes her shoulder, your eyes light up like a disco ball? Must make things awkward.”
Viktor glared. “Only vampires can see it. It’s part of a mutual... chemical reaction.”
Sorcia clapped her hands together in delight. “So she’s special to you?”
Viktor shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “She’s... intriguing,” he replied, unwilling to explain to his friends before he and Gracie had figured this out with each other.
Sorcia and Jace exchanged knowing glances but let the subject drop.
“Back to business,” Sorcia said briskly. “If you provide the locations, my witches will search for emotional hotspots.”
Jace nodded. “And my pack can sniff out anything suspicious in bars or other public places. We’ll meet here in two days to update each other.”
The trio dispersed, each taking a separate exit, the glittering dome fading as the room fell silent once more.
Chapter 20
“What did you do with the bodies?” Charlie asked, his voice tight with barely controlled fury as he stood next to Dave, the vampire who had turned him into this…monster!
Dave shrugged with an air of indifference. “After they’re burned beyond recognition, I toss the remains into a dumpster, an old warehouse, or an abandoned building. Sometimes I make sure they end up where a garbage truck will collect them quickly.” He turned away from the eight charred corpses piled against the wall. “They’re of no use to me now.”
Charlie stared at the shorter vampire, his fists clenching at his sides as anger bubbled to the surface. They’re of no use? These were people! Human beings with lives, families, friends! His lips curled in disgust as his gaze swept over the pile of blackened, shriveled bodies, a sickening smell of burned flesh lingering in the air. His stomach churned, and his mouth watered—not with hunger, but with nausea.
He hadn’t asked for this. He hadn’t wanted this. His entire body felt wrong, like it didn’t belong to him anymore. Pain shot through his muscles, his bones, even his skin—a constant, relentless slide of needles under his skin that reminded him of the horrific transition he’d endured. Torture. That’s what it had been. Pure, unadulterated torture.
Charlie’s life before this nightmare felt like a distant dream. He had been content. Maybe not thrilled with everything, but content. He had loved his quiet life. By day, he worked as a computer programmer, developing elegant code to solve complex problems. It was a job that required focus andpatience, two qualities he had always prided himself on. Every evening and on the weekends, he’d indulged in his hobbies—a gardener who nurtured roses and hydrangeas in his backyard, a dog lover who spent weekends at the park with his golden retriever, Max. His house was small but cozy, filled with sunlight and the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee.
What would happen to Max now? The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t been home in weeks. His dog had been left alone. Was Max even alive? Was someone feeding him? Taking care of him? His fists tightened further as he imagined Max sitting by the door, waiting for him, whining for a return that might never happen.
And now? Now he was this... thing. A creature that had to drink blood to survive. The very idea made his stomach churn. The act of feeding was disgusting, violent, primal. Yet, here he was. He had fed. And worse, he had liked it. The sensation of blood coursing down his throat had been intoxicating, almost euphoric. He had drained every drop from those poor people. The memory of their lifeless bodies haunted him, their faces frozen in terror, their skin pale and slack.
