The moonlight filtered through the curtains, painting the room in silvery hues. Simon stood against the wall, his frame rigid and his gaze sharp. The tension in the air was palpable, his struggle visible in the way his hands clenched at his sides.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice rough and strained.

You stepped closer, heart pounding. “You’re starving, Simon. I can see it. I won’t just stand by.”

He turned his head, avoiding your gaze. “You don’t understand what you’re offering. Once I start, I might not stop.”

“I trust you,” you said softly, tilting your head to the side, baring your neck.

He was in front of you in an instant, his movements so quick you barely had time to blink. His hands found your waist and neck, holding you steady. “You don’t know what this will feel like,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“Then show me,” you whispered.

Simon hesitated for a moment longer, his eyes dark with hunger, before his fangs pierced your flesh. The sharp sting made you gasp, but the pain quickly melted into something else—an overwhelming warmth that made your knees buckle. He held you tightly, his body pressing against yours, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he fed.

“You taste amazing,” He said, a low groan escaping him.

The room seemed to spin, your senses heightened as the rhythm of your heartbeat matched his. It wasn’t just physical—it was primal, intimate, a connection that stole your breath.

When he finally pulled away, his breathing was ragged, his lips stained crimson. He rested his forehead against yours, his hands still steadying you. “You shouldn’t have trusted me,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you said, your voice soft but steady.

“I could have,” he replied, his jaw tightening.

“But you didn’t,” you countered, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

His gaze searched yours, a storm of emotions flickering across his face—guilt, hunger, and something else, something you couldn’t put your finger on. “You’re insane,” he murmured.