Page 4 of Viktor's Temptation
Without hesitation, Mikail reached out, his strong hands cradling the woman’s head with care. Viktor lifted the bag higher, slicing through the plastic with a single nail. A thick, crimson stream trickled down, spilling into her open mouth.
The first taste broke her.
As soon as the blood hit her tongue, her resistance shattered. She grabbed the bag with desperate hands, her fangs piercing the plastic as she drank ravenously. Viktor sat back, exhaling a sigh of relief as he watched the transformation begin.
“Another,” he ordered, and Mikail handed him a second bag.
The woman’s eyes burned brighter with each sip, her body trembling as it absorbed the sustenance. Viktor handed her the next bag, observing her with rapt attention. She was a study in contrasts—desperate yet restrained, fragile yet fierce.
Her skin began to change first. The deathly pallor faded, replaced by a faint glow that seemed to radiate from within. By the time she finished the third bag, her complexion was taking on an opalescent sheen, almost pearly under the soft lighting.
When she reached for the empty bag as though to lick it clean, Viktor fought back a laugh. “Here,” he said, taking the crumpled plastic from her and replacing it with a fresh one. She attacked it with the same voracity, her body visibly strengthening with each swallow.
His fascination grew with every passing moment. Who was this woman? How had she survived so long in such a state? And why was he so inexplicably drawn to her?
“My lord,” Mikail’s voice broke through his thoughts.
Viktor glanced up, noticing Darvin holding the limousine door open. How long had they been sitting there? Time had slipped by unnoticed, his attention wholly consumed by the woman.
“Right,” Viktor muttered, clearing his throat. Reluctantly, he shifted in his seat, tucking her more securely into his arms.
“You’re coming with me,” he murmured to her, his tone soft but resolute. She didn’t respond, too focused on draining the bag in her hands.
He carried her into the waiting elevator, her limp body cradled against him as though she weighed nothing. It would have been easier to let her walk, but Viktor found himself unwilling to let her go. She wasn’t ready to stand, he told himself, though part of him wasn’t entirely sure that was the only reason.
“She’ll need at least five more bags,” Viktor said as the elevator ascended.
“She needs rest,” Darvin observed quietly.
Viktor nodded, his gaze still fixed on her face. Her hair hung in limp, matted strands, her frame painfully thin, but even in her weakened state, she was stunning. Her silvery eyes gleamed with a startling intensity, and her features were already softening into something unearthly, her vampire genes working to erase the traces of human frailty.
When they reached his penthouse, Viktor carried her to the closest guest bedroom. Setting her down gently, he pulled the covers back, his movements uncharacteristically tender.
“Leave more bags of blood for her,” he instructed, watching as her eyes drifted closed. Exhaustion overtook her as her body began to heal. She looked fragile and vulnerable, yet there was a quiet strength in her that Viktor couldn’t ignore.
He lingered, his gaze tracing the soft glow of her skin. The anger that had burned within him at the sight of her state hadn’t faded—it simmered beneath his fascination, a relentless demand for answers.
Who had done this to her? And why was he so captivated by her? She was a stranger, yet he couldn’t deny the pull she had over him.
With a sharp shake of his head, Viktor forced himself to step away. He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with a decisive motion. He didn’t allow himself to glance back. Answers would come later. For now, she needed rest. But as he walked away, he couldn’t shake the image of her fragile beauty or the nagging feeling that this woman would upend his world in ways he couldn’t yet imagine.
Chapter 3
Viktor sat in his favorite chair, his long fingers steepled beneath his chin as he stared down the dimly lit hallway to the guest rooms. The first pale light of dawn crept over the city skyline, promising another sweltering day, but Viktor barely noticed. His attention was fixed elsewhere.
Would she wake? It wasn’t guaranteed. The transition process was brutal, a razor’s edge that few survived. And if she did wake, what state would she be in? Scared, most likely. Confused. Perhaps furious. All justified, of course. Someone had stolen her life and thrust her into an existence most humans couldn’t comprehend, let alone accept.
His jaw tightened at the thought. He was still furious that someone had dared to transform her without permission, inhisterritory, no less. It wasn’t just a breach of protocol—it was a declaration of disrespect. And yet, his anger was tempered by something… unexpected.
Why am I so intrigued by her?
It made no sense. He didn’t know her. She was a complete stranger, a waif he’d found on the street, frail and starving, like a stray animal abandoned by its owner. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every rational part of his mind insisted he was merely concerned about the transgression against his authority. But deep down, Viktor knew there was something more.
The soft padding of bare feet on the carpeted hallway broke his reverie. He turned sharply, the faint sound tugging athis sharp senses. His eyes locked on the doorway just as she emerged, and he hissed in a quiet breath.
She was a vision, albeit an incomplete one. The oversized clothes hung awkwardly on her still-slender frame, but the dark shadows beneath her eyes had faded, and her skin now carried a faint glow. She looked healthier, though still fragile, and he realized with a surprising pang of relief that she was alive—and improving.
“Do you feel any better?” he asked, his tone measured, trying to remember what a polite host might say.
