Sienna’s POV:

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This was strange. It was a word that didn’t even begin to cover the swirling, disorienting chaos inside me. It was like I had been thrown from an empty, colorless book to somece flooded with color.

Colors I remembered only seeing when I was very, very young, now bloomed and flourished around me. The library, which had been a sea of muted grays and different shades of ck, was now a vibrant, living thing.

As soon as I was done drinking his blood, it was as though the color had spread from his irises, those vivid, brilliant green eyes, to the world around me. Slowly, I nced at him, my eyes tracing the lines of his face, the soft curve of his jaw, the thick, darkshes. I moved my hand to touch his skin, which had turned to apletely different shade than the lifeless gray it was before. It was a warm, living color, darker than my own pale skin. It was like someone had breathed life into my surroundings.

“You… what is happening?” I whispered, confused. Just what the hell was even happening to me today? This was all too much.

He smiled then, his lips quirking up in that goofy, teasing smile that seemed to be his default expression. He looked at me, a strange mix of kindness and concern in his eyes. “I’m generously offering my blood to you?” The words, snapped me out of my stupor, bringing me right back down to earth.

I would analyze what was happeningter. Now that I had been satiated, I could think straight. It was only fair that I returned the favor, right?

I took ia /ideep breath. “It’s a natural reaction of the bite. It’s supposed to make you feel turned on. To lessen the pain of it… do you need my help?” I said, ncing down at the pronounced bulge in his jeans. I could see the tent clearly through his light–wash denim. The sight of it, sent a strange jolt through me.

It wasn’t as though I wasn’t aroused either. Not just the person who’d been bitten, but also the biter felt a hint of arousal. It was a biological function, a way to ensure the vampire didn’t kill their prey. The thrill of the hunt, the high of the feed, it all culminated in this strange, biological phenomenon. I was just prone to ignoring my own, the heat would go away soon. For him, however, I pursed my lips. Was it my illusion? Why was he so big?

His brows shot up, his eyes widening in a mixture of disbelief and a strange, hesitant hope. “You’re going to help me with what exactly?” He asked, his voice a low, husky whisper. I noticed how his eyes constantly trailed my lips. I felt something at the back of my neck tingle, a strange, electric sensation that made my scalp prickle. I couldn’t help swallowing, this time, however, it wasn’t out of thirst. Not that kind of thirst at least. A different kind of hunger, one that was more a desire for connection than blood, was slowly blooming in my

gut.

Yes. I was a psychopath. I had read the books, I had been tested, and I hade to terms with the diagnosis. bI /brarely felt deep emotions, the world a constant, muted drone of unfeeling. But arousal wasn’t one of them. In fact, that was one of the only things that reminded me that I was still alive, as alive as a vampire could be. Which was why I always tried to actively stay away from men like him, handsome ones, not even trying to fix my touch aversion. I had bseen /bcountless psychopaths who’d be addicted to bsex/b, just to feel something.

They would seek out partners who weren’t detached like them, engaging in an endless cycle of empty, meaningless intimacy. Then when the person who felt emotions got attached, it became difficult for the both

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of them. For the psychopath it would be a burden, to the neurotypical it would be ‘heart–breaking.

But maybe… just this once would be fine. As long as I didn’t go too far. The thought was a dangerous, seductive whisper, a lie I told myself to justify the heat blooming in my stomach. The sight of his face, the confusion and the hesitant hope in his eyes, was a strange, intoxicating thing.

It was a challenge. A dare. I wanted to see how far I could push it, how much I could get from him before I pulled away. I moved forward. My hand brushed his erection, my fingers a feather–light touch against the fabric of his jeans. My other hand moved to the zipper of his pants. I knew my voice didn’t really sound so enthusiastic, even if I tried to make it sultry… it just came out emotionless. t.

To my surprise, however, he didn’t seem to feel offended, nor did his erection go down. He only cursed under his breath, a low, guttural sound that was half a groan and half a whisper. “Sienna…” The sound of my name on his lips, so soft and so Haider, was intoxicating. It should have been a good sign, right? The fact that he was still there, still willing, even after seeing my true self.

But then he grabbed my hand as soon as I was about to pull the zipper all the way down. His fingers were a firm grip on my wrist, and he looked at me, his eyes full of concern. “Are you sure about this? Weren’t you just feeling sick moments ago? You don’t have to force yourself…”

I looked at his eyes, and the way they constantly flickered down to my lips, a clear, unmistakable sign of his own desire. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, a warm, inviting thing. The temptation was too much. The thought of his lips on mine, the strange, electric thrill of his touch, was an overwhelming, all- consuming need. “Are you trying to stop me? Or yourself?” I quirked my brows, the question a challenge, a dare to him and to myself. “You don’t have to think too deeply about it, Haider. It’s just a transaction. You gave me blood, I give you this.” I said, as I moved forward, a sudden, powerful motion. I grabbed his neck, my fingers a firm grip on the warm skin, and pulled him in for the kiss he was so damn obviously craving.

His body was stiff at first. I tried to recall the countless shows, countless books I had read about kissing. What was I supposed to do? Was I doing this right? I locked my lips with his soft ones and then pulled back, the kiss a short, chaste thing that was nothing like the passionate, movie–like kisses I had read about. I frowned when I realized he still seemed stiff. I guess I was wrong-

Before that thought could end, I felt him nip at my lower lip. The sensation was sudden. My eyes widened, my mouth opening in a slight gasp. Then his tongue, hot and wet, licked my lips and entered, a soft, curious probe that sent a shiver of pure, unadulterated pleasure through me. My eyes closed as he pushed me further back, his arm caging me against the bookshelf. The other hand grabbed my neck, a firm, possessive grip that kept me in ce.

He explored my mouth with a slow, deliberate rhythm that was so different from my own clumsy, hesitant attempts. He was plundering my mouth. I felt like I was running out of oxygen, my lungs burning, my head spinning with the strange, intoxicating vor of him. My brows furrowed then as a sound, something strange, almost akin to moan, escaped my lips which he swallowed as his knee put pressure in between my own legs, a sharp, delightful pressure on my clitoris as he sat between my parted legs.

My hold on his bicep turned into a death grip. What was he doing? Why… why was my heart beating like it would jump out of my chest the very next second?