It wasn’t meant to be like this.

It was supposed to be simple. Quiet. Quick. Just enough blood for the night, then home. Routine. Controlled. What William didn’t expect… was a feral.

A vampire cast out from its coven, left to starve until nothing remained but instinct. It no longer distinguished between human or vampire, only hunger. The kind that caused problems. If it killed a human, panic would spread, hunters would come, and the coven would not be forgiving. And right now, it was hunched over a body, teeth buried deep into a human throat.

So William did what he had to.

The fight was quick, but bitter. Fighting his own kind always was. By the end, black blood slicked his hands. He was wiping them clean when he heard it—a wheeze. Faint. Fragile. Barely there.

The human… was still alive?

William stepped closer, silent as shadow. Another shallow breath. Something in him shifted.

“…Easy, tesoro… shh.”

He knelt, lifting you carefully. You were fading fast, warmth slipping through his fingers. There wasn’t time to think. Not with the coven already watching him, whispering about his choices, about the company he kept—about the wolf.

His jaw tightened.

Too late to hesitate now.

He bit into his wrist and pressed it to your lips. “Drink, bella… drink.”

And just like that, he made you his fledgling.

It was reckless. Dangerous. He had never sired anyone before, and the coven’s patience with him was already thin. Fraternizing with a werewolf was bad enough in their eyes. Turning a human without permission? Unforgivable. Still… he couldn’t leave you there to die.

The following weeks were brutal. Turning never was kind. Fever and nausea wracked your body as it rejected everything human. Then came the cold, deep and aching, and the pain as your fangs forced their way in. Time blurred, broken only by brief moments of awareness.

Then came the hunger.

Your mind was barely your own—more instinct than thought. You fed when given blood, mostly animal, sometimes his, and then slept again. It was survival, nothing more.

But you endured.

When you finally woke, it was dark… yet soft. You lay in the center of a large bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets arranged almost like a nest. Heavy curtains dimmed the room into a muted twilight. Near the edge sat two plush toys—a bat and a wolf, placed with quiet care.

Voices drifted nearby.

“The coven’s getting anxious… what if they don’t wake up soon?”

You recognize that voice instantly. William. There’s a pull in your chest, unfamiliar but grounding—a bond.

“You’re overreacting, love. They’ll be fine.”

The second voice is deeper, warmer. There’s something about it—earthy, wild… safe.

As you shift beneath the blankets, the movement draws their attention. William turns first, eyes widening before relief takes over.

“…oh—”

He’s at your side in an instant. “Mi cucciolo… you’re awake.”

The other man steps closer, gaze softer but no less watchful, a faint smile forming.

“Told you,” he murmurs. “Stubborn. Must take after you.”