Page 5 of Viktor's Temptation
“Yes,” she replied softly, her voice tentative as her wide eyes roamed the room. Her awe was palpable, and Viktor found himself silently assessing the décor. Did she like the dark colors and modern furnishings? He frowned. Perhaps he should call his decorator and have everything redone in softer hues.
“Would you like something to eat?” he offered, even though he already knew the answer.
She hesitated, then shook her head. “No. I’m…uh…fine.”
Her response amused him. She was clearly anything but fine, yet she stood awkwardly in the doorway, unwilling to commit to stepping further into the room. Her hesitation was… endearing.
“Why don’t you come in and sit down?” he suggested, his voice gentle. “We need to talk, and I imagine you have questions about your transition.”
Her faint smile was disarming, and she stepped cautiously into the room. But her steps faltered when she spotted the bag of blood resting on the coffee table.
“Please, help yourself,” he said smoothly, gesturing to the bag. “You’re still ravenous, I’m sure.”
Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up a bag, staring at it like it might bite her. Viktor took it from her hands with a faint smile, tearing it open with his fangs before returning it to her. “One thing at a time,” he murmured.
Perching delicately on the edge of the sofa, she began to drink, her movements hesitant at first but growing more assured as her hunger overtook her. Viktor leaned back, watching her closely, fascination stirring as the transformation continued.
Her pale skin began to glow more vibrantly, taking on an opalescent sheen that hinted at the strength lying dormant beneath her fragile appearance. She drained the second bag, and then a third, her posture shifting as life—or its undead equivalent—flooded her veins.
But when he handed her the fourth, she hesitated. “Thank you, but I’m okay now,” she said, her voice soft, with a lilting southern accent that sent an unexpected ripple of pleasure through him.
“You need more,” Viktor countered firmly, pressing the bag into her hands.
Her hesitation deepened, and then she froze, as if suddenly becoming aware of the closeness between them. Her gaze dropped to where his hand rested near hers, and an almost imperceptible flush crept over her pale cheeks. With a sharpintake of breath, she shifted abruptly, sliding away to the far end of the couch. She perched there stiffly, clutching the blood bag in her hands as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded.
Viktor smirked, amusement sparking as her back stiffened and her expression turned adorably outraged. “Drink,” he ordered, his voice firm but not unkind.
“I’m fine,” she said again, trying for polite defiance. Setting the bag carefully on the table, she rubbed her palms against her jeans, her nerves palpable. “Thank you very much for your…” She paused, glancing at the bag of blood, the reality of what she had consumed hitting her with visible force.
Her words faltered into silence, and she took a deep breath. “I should go,” she finally said, her voice shaky but determined.
“You will stay,” Viktor replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re not fully recovered yet.”
She blinked, startled by his certainty, and he saw the flicker of stubbornness in her silvery eyes. “I don’t know anything about a… transition,” she whispered, her gaze darting to the bag of blood again. “But I should be getting home. My… family will be worried.”
Her lie was almost laughable, but Viktor held his amusement in check. She was still weak, trembling with residual hunger, and yet she had the gall to lie to him, to assert her independence. It was infuriating—and utterly captivating.
She clung to the cushion as though it might anchor her, and Viktor’s mind raced. This woman was a mystery, a puzzlehe hadn’t yet begun to unravel. But one thing was certain—she affected him in ways no one else ever had. And he had no intention of letting her go.
Chapter 4
Gracie focused on her wobbly legs, her body alive with an unfamiliar energy that seemed to spark and hum just beneath her skin. The sharp, stabbing pains that had once dominated her senses were gone, replaced by something far stranger—a sense of vitality that felt almost electric. She sank onto the cushion again, letting out a breath of relief as she reveled in the absence of pain.
But it wasn’t just the absence of pain. Gracie felt… powerful. Stronger than she’d ever felt in her life. Her body hummed with energy, a sharp contrast to the dull exhaustion she’d grown accustomed to. It was as if she’d been plugged into some endless source of vitality, and it was both thrilling and unnerving.
Her eyes roamed the unfamiliar space, seeking something—anything—that might orient her. The sunlight streaming through the windows didn’t help; it only served to remind her of how disoriented she was. How long had she been in that dark, hellish prison? Days? Weeks? Longer? The memories of that vile man and his sinister “experiments” made her shudder, and she rubbed her arms as though she could wipe away the lingering filth of his touch.
“What day is it?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly as she stood and took a few unsteady steps. Her body felt off—not weak, but strange, as though it wasn’t entirely hers anymore.
“Drink more,” came the firm command.
Her eyes snapped to the man lounging on the pristine white couch. His presence was magnetic, his voice both soothing and unyielding. Gracie couldn’t help but stare at him. His broad shoulders, impossibly defined build, and the calm, commanding way he carried himself—it was as if he belonged in a world entirely removed from hers.
Yet something about him intrigued her. She couldn’t name it, but it was undeniable, an attraction that sent her pulse racing. That was another strange thing—her pulse. It wasn’t pounding from fear or exertion; it felt controlled, steady, but potent, like her body was functioning on an entirely different level.
“I’m fine,” she said, her tone more defensive than she intended. Her gaze darted back to the bag of blood, and her stomach churned—not from disgust, but from longing. The thought of drinking more made her mouth water, and she hated herself for it.
Gracie turned away from the temptation, determined to focus on something else. But as she took a step, her hand brushed her stomach, and she froze. It felt… different.
