CHAPTER 54: ZYGONS- MONSTER OR FAIRY?

Vivian couldn’t move a single muscle, even as she lay sprawled on the dirt-caked floor of the greenhouse. The sticky scent of what they had just done clung to her skin, thick in the air, wrapping around her like a suffocating fog. Her breath hitched in her throat as she tried to center herself, every attempt to suppress the fury threatening to explode within her chest failing miserably.

It hadn’t lasted long—thankfully—and perhaps, if luck favored her for once, no one had seen. No one had heard. No one knew.

The sheer horror of having slept with a human—a human—turned her stomach. She had to clench her jaw to keep from vomiting. The shame clawed up her throat like bile as she waited for the firestorm of sensations still wracking her body to fade.

So deep was she in her internal turmoil that she didn’t notice the way Clay, who remained kneeling respectfully beside her, subtly changed.

Just for the briefest of seconds, his smooth, pale skin seemed to ripple. His youthful, human features twisted and distorted. His blue eyes turned pitch black, gleaming like polished onyx. His ears elongated to sharp points, and his skin darkened, coarse and cracked like hardened clay. A monstrous form emerged in a flash—and just as quickly vanished. In the blink of an eye, he returned to the unassuming servant with golden hair and gentle features.

He grumbled silently to himself, the cost of the magic he’d used catching up to him.

I used too much, he thought with a grimace. But it had to be done. Hopefully... it’ll be worth it.

He kept his head bowed low, unmoving, waiting for her to speak.

His first instinct when he’d seen her in the garden had been to snap her neck and drain her dry.

’Her blood and flesh would be worth the risk!’ But the number of watching eyes made that impossible. He hadn’t been alone. And once he got close, he’d realized—this could be useful. Far more than a body left in the dirt.

Alive, she may serve me better than dead, he reasoned, fully aware of the spell he had carefully embedded under her skin while she writhed atop him. A spell to heighten her need. One that would burn through her veins, keep her coming back to him—willingly.

A slow, smug smile spread across his face just as Vivian stirred.

She groaned and dragged herself to her feet, the rustle of fabric and heavy breathing announcing her displeasure. Her tone was harsh, but the edge lacked the steel it should have held.

"I should kill you..." she hissed, her eyes narrowed in contempt. "It’s what I should do."

But even as she said it, her mind flashed with images of the act. She’d felt it—the shocking intensity of it. Not even Zyren, the vampire king she had chased and yearned for, had made her feel the things this lowly human had.

Vivian’s eyes dropped to Clay’s face—delicate, strikingly handsome, refined. For a moment, treacherous thoughts slipped into her mind. The temptation to make him hers completely, to commit the ultimate taboo and turn him into a vampire flashed in her mind even as she buried the thought.

Clay kept his head bowed so deeply it nearly touched the soil, his voice reverent and smooth when he spoke.

"My lady... I live to please you. I swear it. No one will ever know what passed between us."

His words were humble, desperate, but not without calculated sincerity.

Vivian scoffed, her lip curling. It didn’t matter to her if others knew. Vampires weren’t bound to monogamy—far from it. But the idea of Zyren hearing of this... that made her clench her fists.

What made her even angrier were the next words that tumbled from her lips—unbidden, yet entirely truthful.

"You’ve slept with many women, haven’t you?" with a tinge of envy that made her feel like she was losing her mind.

Clay didn’t flinch. He only bowed lower.

"Yes, my lady. I am experienced."

She exhaled hard through her nose, a mocking sneer on her lips as she bent to pick up her long black coat, now dusty from the floor. She shook it out with disdain.

"From now on... you belong to me," she declared coldly, not even bothering to see his face as she turned away.

A tremor of excitement rippled through his body. He bowed even deeper, forehead grazing the ground.

"...as mi’lady’s personal slave?" he asked, his voice laced with hope.

Vivian didn’t smile, but she didn’t deny it either.

"You’ll continue working here. But when I call—you come."

Her voice was sharp and clipped, all emotion neatly buried.

"I’ll reward you," she added, brushing dirt from her coat. "If your performance is... satisfactory."

Before she could even finish, Clay’s head bobbed up and down so eagerly it was almost comical.

Vivian pulled the coat on, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair, utterly repulsed by how undone she felt. She had never been seen in such a disheveled state. The transparent skirt beneath her coat was wrinkled beyond repair, her once-flawless skin now sticky and smudged. She could only hope the coat masked the signs.

But any vampire who passed her would know.

They would smell it. The stench of sex still clung to her like smoke after fire.

She clenched her jaw tighter.

She wasn’t ready to face anyone.

Before she could plan her escape, Clay quietly reached to the side, retrieving a folded garment he must’ve fetched earlier. A cloak—dark, thick, with a deep hood. He offered it to her without rising.

"My lady... this should cover your face. At least until you make it beyond the mansion."

Vivian took it, inspecting it quickly. It smelled clean. No lingering scent on it.

’It’ll do.’

With her speed and awareness, she could easily avoid detection. Avoid humans. Avoid the guards.

Once the hood was over her head and her form concealed, she slipped away without another word. Her only thought was returning to her villa—and slitting the throat of the deceitful merchant who had dared to swear that the fragrance would work on any vampire alive.

Clay waited until the heavy greenhouse door clicked shut behind her. Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

The fearful expression melted from his face like wax under flame. His eyes hardened. His lips twisted into a sneer of pure loathing.

He sniffed the air around him—recoiled.

The scent of her lingered on him like rot.

With a snarl, his body contorted, bones shifting as his form ballooned to three times its original size. Two long curled horns on his head as his head brushed the greenhouse ceiling. Muscles rippled under skin that cracked and turned to hardened ash-black clay.

Doing something he had never done since he sneaked into the mansion. Aware that even a vampire with a mind-reading ability wouldn’t have been able to notice anything wrong with him

"If not for the mission," he growled, voice deep and guttural, "I wouldn’t have endured such... humiliation."

He looked down at the once-vibrant plants that now lay withered and gray, their life drained to fuel his transformation using it to fill his essence core.

He crouched, shrinking back down to human form in a blur of motion. The pale, golden-haired servant reemerged, dusting off his clothes and moving methodically to replace the dead plants with new ones.

His voice was soft now, but filled with iron resolve.

"I will raise up our lost glory..."

His blue eyes burned with ancient hunger as he murmured the final thought that pulsed through every fiber of his being:

To us Zygons... every living thing is nothing but food.