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Chapter 33

  Myra took a shaky breath, trying to regain her composure. The lingering warmth in her body warred with the slight dizziness that still clouded her senses. She looked at Freya, truly looked at her, and saw not just the ancient predator, but also a being who, in her own way, seemed to care.

  “Just… just a moment,” Myra said softly, closing her eyes briefly to steady herself. When she opened them again, her gaze was more direct. “Freya… why did you stop? Just now, I mean. You said you were very hungry.” There was a genuine curiosity in her voice, a desire to understand the shift she had witnessed, the moment when the raw hunger seemed to give way to concern.

  “I was,” Freya admitted, her crimson eyes still holding a trace of the recent hunger. “Very hungry indeed. But… I am not now.” She looked at Myra, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I took enough. More than I initially intended, perhaps, but enough to quell the immediate need without causing you undue harm, I hope.”

  Myra’s brow furrowed slightly. “But…” she began hesitantly, then took a deeper breath. “Could you… could you feed on me again?”

  Freya’s eyes widened in surprise. “Again?” she echoed, a note of bewilderment in her voice. “But… why, Myra? You just said you felt lightheaded and sore. Surely you do not desire further discomfort.”

  Myra shrugged, a small, almost embarrassed movement. “I… I don’t know,” she confessed, her gaze flickering away from Freya’s for a moment. “It was… strange. Unsettling, yes. But… there was also… a feeling. A… a tingling. And even… a kind of pleasure mixed in with it. I can’t expin it. But… I think… I might like to feel it again.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, a hint of confusion and a touch of burgeoning desire coloring her words.

  Freya regarded Myra with an intense, searching gaze. A slow smile, both intrigued and slightly wary, spread across her lips. “Myra,” she said, her voice a low, resonant hum, “I believe that what you are describing… is not entirely within the realm of normal human experience.”

  Freya’s smile lingered, tinged with a hint of concern. “Myra,” she said softly, “I think perhaps we should… hold on to that feeling for now. It is potent, and perhaps best explored with a clearer mind.” She gently took Myra’s hand in hers, her cool fingers a stark contrast to Myra’s still-warm skin. “Lie back and rest. I will… I will hold you.”

  Carefully, Freya settled beside Myra, her long, slender frame a comforting presence against the velvet sheets. She cradled Myra gently, her arm a protective curve around the younger woman’s shoulders. Myra, feeling the unexpected comfort and the lingering exhaustion, nestled closer, her breathing soon evening out as she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Freya watched her sleep, her crimson eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions. The raw hunger she had felt moments ago had subsided, repced by a quiet contemption. Her gaze lingered on Myra’s peaceful face, the rise and fall of her chest a gentle rhythm in the stillness of the room.

  A wave of unease washed over Freya. She frowned slightly, her brow furrowing in self-reproach. How did things escate to the point where I lost control like that? she thought, the memory of her desperate feeding a sharp sting of guilt. The scent of Myra’s blood had been intoxicating, overwhelming, but that was no excuse for her pse in control.

  A cold dread clenched in her chest at the thought of what could have happened. What if I had gone too far? What if I had devoured her completely, unconsciously, lost in the throes of my hunger? The consequences were unthinkable, the viotion of the fragile trust that had been building between them a deeply disturbing prospect. The realization of her own potential for unchecked primal instinct left Freya feeling shaken and profoundly conflicted. This mortal woman was stirring something within her, something beyond simple hunger, and with that came a responsibility she had not anticipated.

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