Sienna’s POV:

A

My stomach was gnawing at me, a deep, persistent ache that had woken me up. Thest time I had fed from a blood bag was more than two days ago, its metallic taste was already fading, reced by the ghost of a rich, sweet, and spicy vor that I knew I would never forget.

I frowned, pushing myself off the bed with a heavy, leaden feeling in my limbs.

I looked at the clock. It was nine o’clock. My first ss, Intro to Business, was at nine thirty. I huffed.

I shrugged off the tank top I had slept in and shimmied out of my shorts. I hopped into the shower, letting the spray of cold water hit my face, hoping it would wake me up, clear the fog from my mind. It didn’t. The hunger was too profound, too all–epassing to be washed away by something so simple as water.

I wasn’t looking forward to drinking from a blood bag again. The very thought of it made my stomach churn with a sickening reluctance. But I had no choice. I had only tried direct human blood once, and look where it had gotten me.

Too much trouble. I preferred my life to be a well–organized, predictable equation, and Haider Kovalyova, with his strange eyes and his even stranger ability to remember, was an unpredictable variable.

After stepping out of the shower, I pulled on a pair of ck jeans and afortable, oversized ck hoodie from my wardrobe. I left my hair to air–dry. The cold didn’t really affect me. I was a vampire. I was cold- blooded either way. My body temperature was always a few degrees lower than a human’s.

Finally making it to my kitchen fridge, my feet dragging on the cool tile, I pulled out the blood bag that was the freshest, the stamped date told me it had arrived yesterday. I peeled back the foil, and ripped off the top. The sight of the viscous, crimson liquid made my teeth ache with a sharp, insistent need.

I filled my mug with a trembling hand and brought it to my lips. I forced myself to take a sip, my stomach roiling in protest. But I stopped right after. My face scrunched up, a wave of nausea so powerful it made my knees feel weak. The taste was vile, worse than before. It was like old, stagnant water mixed with iron filings and a hint of something sour and rotten. I lurched to the kitchen sink, retching out the contents.

Fuck. What the fuck. The hunger, so intense moments ago, was reced by a sick, nauseous feeling. Had the taste of human blood just be ten times worse? Or was the person this blood came from maybe a cannibal? I felt sick. But I would feel even worse if I didn’t drink anything. My body was already trembling with the need, my head throbbing with a dull, insistent ache. So even though I felt reluctant, I moved to grab another blood bag. And then another. And another.

But five blood bagster–five attempts to stomach something that my body was now violently rejecting–I was on the kitchen floor, my chest heaving up and down in utter bafflement. My stomach was a knot of sick, painful cramps, and my mouth tasted of bile and disappointment.

It had already been more than twenty–four hours. I couldn’t just not drink blood. The hunger, though muted by the nausea, was still a heavy, aching presence. But then why was this happening? Was it Haider’s blood? Did it somehow reset my pte, making me incapable of stomaching anything else? The thought was absurd, but it was the only exnation that made any sense.

15:34 bSat/bb, /bbSep /bb20 /b

b(/b54b) /b

55 Vouchers

I picked up my phone, my fingers fumbling with the screen. I dialed Aunt Seraphina. But she didn’t pick up the call even after three tries. Someone else did. “Hello. This is Priyanka speaking.”

I sighed, a long, weary sound. “Hi, Priya. Where’s my Anna?” Priyanka was my aunt’s secretary and also ba /bclose friend of hers, a kind, human woman who had no idea about the true nature of her boss or her boss’s niece.

“Ms. Legacy is in a board meeting currently. Would you like me to pass on a message, dear?” she said professionally and politely.

I pursed my lips, a sh of impatience running through me. “No. It’s alright. Just let her know to contact me as soon as she’s finished. It’s urgent.” I said, After a few bouts of pleasantries, I cut the call.

Pushing myself off the kitchen floor, my muscles protesting the effort, I made my way to the coffee table and grabbed my wallet and keys. It was no use just staying here and wallowing in my hunger and frustration. Better to go to university and divert my mind. Right? The thought was a desperate, flimsy lie I told myself.

A nagging feeling in my chest told me otherwise. It was a low, insistent hum, a deep–seated need that had nothing to do with sses or studying. A pair of mossy green eyes and the vor of sweet and spicy blood infiltrated my senses, and I cursed under my breath. There was something seriously wrong with me.

After a twenty–minute drive that felt like a lifetime, I parked my car in the university parking lot and began walking to my ss. The air was thick with the scent of humans. The overwhelming, cloying odor of their blood–a mix of a million different perfumes, food, and sweat–was a physical presence, a thick, nauseating fog that made my head spin.

It’s not like I didn’t smell humans and their blood constantly on a daily basis. But usually, the scent was always subdued. Why was it that it suddenly felt like the scent had multiplied by three?

I wanted to gag. My throat tightened, and my stomach churned, threatening to bring up the contents of the useless tea I had sipped earlier. The scent of the blood didn’t even smell appealing. It was a repulsive, sour thing that made me want to get as far away as possible. I clenched my fists as I paused in front of the ssroom I needed to enter. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself and knocked on the door, not waiting for a reply, and stepped inside. The professor, as well as the countless other students, snapped their heads to nce at me.

“I’m sorry. I waste. Please continue. I’ll take my seat,” I said as nonchntly as I could muster, even as my head began to feel dizzy as I nced at the crowded seats with a frown. My vision, usually a crisp, monochromatic field of grays and cks, was now a confusing, blurry mess. The professor, with a fake smile, just nodded. “Alright. Please take your seat.” I nodded apologetically, not that I felt it much. My only thought was to find an empty seat and hope I didn’t faint before the end of the ss.

Just as I was about to turn to the left, a voice, clear and strong, cut through the buzzing in my ears. “Here!” My head snapped to the right, and the buzzing in my ears vanished at that moment. The cloying scent of a dozen different blood types receded, reced by the single, clean, fresh scent of rain. I swallowed, my throat dry. I licked my lips. The color, which had been so gray and muted, suddenly had a spark of light green.

Haider was waving at me,pletely confident, uncaring of the countless gazes pointing at us. His eyes were the only thing I could see. I shrugged, my limbs suddenly feeling lighter, and made my way over.

He scooted inside, making space for me as I took my seat. And as soon as I did… I couldn’t help taking a breath of relief and closing my eyes. I leaned back, my back hitting the cold, hard bench, for a breather, His scent was milder than any other. Not in a bad way. It was strangely as though it had overpowered other scents

b15:34 /bbSat/bb, /bbSep /b20

while also not being overpowering. Was I truly about to faint back then?

54

He leaned in, his voice a low, concerned whisper. “You look sick. Is everything okay?” He whispered, and my gaze blinked open as itnded on his. The words of his offerst night suddenly reverberated in mind.

my

The hunger, which had been a sick, painful thing moments ago, was now a sharp, undeniable need. It was a hunger for him. I contemted for a long while, before I spoke, my voice a husky, low whisper, barely audible to anyone but him.

“I feel thirsty.”