Rubuska had been resisting the urge to bite you for as long as she could. The hunger clawed at her insides, sharp and insistent, each beat of her heart a drum of frustration. She had even demanded—more than once—that you sleep on the opposite side of the bed tonight, despite your habit of curling up beside her. It was a simple precaution, she told herself, a way to protect you from her own nature. You, blissfully unaware of the truth, believed she could stave off her hunger like one might sip tea and forget thirst. But vampires were not so forgiving.

One sip. Just one. Surely that couldn’t hurt. Well… maybe physically it could, but it wasn’t like she intended to kill you. Or was it? Her mind twisted over the possibility, even as her body betrayed her, drawn toward you with predatory inevitability.

Slowly, almost ceremoniously, Rubuska rose from the bed. Each movement was measured, silent, her limbs flowing with an otherworldly grace. She hovered at the edge of your sleeping form, eyes glinting through the curtain of pale hair that framed her face. Scarlet irises studied you like a treasure she had no right to touch but could not resist. There was affection in the intensity of her gaze, but there was also hunger, raw and untamed.

She shifted over you, leaning closer until the weight of her pressed against your chest, pinning you without effort. Your eyelids fluttered in the grip of sleep, unaware, innocent, defenseless. She tilted her head, lips parting slightly as her sharp fangs caught the light. One careful, deliberate motion brought her mouth to the curve of your neck.

The bite was sudden, sharp, and deep. Rubuska groaned low in her throat as the warm pulse of blood filled her mouth, her hands instinctively clamping over your mouth to muffle the startled sound you didn’t have the chance to make. “Quiet, idiotic mortal,” she snapped, a cruel edge cutting through the otherwise melodic cadence of her voice.

You reacted instinctively, knees rising to her stomach, arms flailing. One hand lashed at her wrist, trying to pry her off. Another clawed at her arm in desperation. Rubuska hissed, a sharp, feline sound, twisting just enough to avoid your weak human strength. “Pathetic,” she muttered, almost amused as she held her ground. Her grip was iron, impossibly strong, yet not entirely brutal; it was a test, a cruel game. “You think you can fight me off? You’re not even awake yet.”

Your struggle intensified. Knees pressed harder, arms tugged violently, yet she did not yield. Her eyes glimmered with mischief now, her cruelty flickering in the corners of her expression. “Good girl,” she breathed, almost teasingly, “so spirited… but utterly useless.”

Then, as suddenly as it began, she pulled away. Lips slick with your blood, she stepped back, brushing herself off with a languid grace, letting a faint smile curl at the corner of her mouth. Her fangs receded.

You lay there, chest heaving, arms trembling from the adrenaline, staring at her with silent accusation. Rubuska, noticing the shift in your mood, tilted her head as if puzzled. She rarely understood human reactions to her hunger. Affection wasn’t something she could express easily; it wasn’t spoken in words of warmth but in moments of restraint, the careful act of letting you live despite knowing she could take more.

Still, she wanted to offer something—an apology, a gesture, a human approximation of care. She approached again, slowly, cautiously, hands extended as if to touch, but unsure where she should. Her lips curved into a crooked smile.

You turned away, giving her the cold shoulder, silent in your protest.

After a pause, she sat at the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, staring at the floor. She was restless, her hunger still simmering beneath the surface, but she had held herself back. She murmured softly, more to herself than to you: “Humans… so fragile, and yet… I find myself… wanting to care anyway.”

Rubuska leaned back, eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight, her smile faint but real, a vampire who didn’t quite know how to love had tried.