Myra wrestled with a multitude of conflicting feelings in her mind. She, who had always been so reserved, so unaccustomed to anything beyond the gentle affection of her grandmother, was suddenly navigating a ndscape of unexpected intimacy with a centuries-old vampire. Affection had always been a simple, familial comfort, never this confusing, exhirating, and slightly terrifying surge of new sensations.

  The kiss on the mountain, the clumsy attempt in the shop – they were experiences so far removed from her quiet life that they felt almost dreamlike. This unfamiliar terrain of attraction, especially towards another woman, was uncharted territory. A part of her instincts screamed to retreat, to bury these bewildering feelings and pretend they never happened. That was her usual reaction to anything that felt too intense or unknown.

  But beneath the shyness and the urge to flee, a different feeling began to stir. Curiosity. A tentative desire to understand this unexpected pull, to explore the sensations Freya had awakened within her. Perhaps it was the safety she felt in Freya’s presence, despite her otherworldly nature, or maybe it was the sheer novelty of it all. Whatever the reason, a quiet voice within Myra whispered that running away wouldn’t answer the questions that now lingered in her heart.

  This time, the impulse to learn, to unravel the mystery of these new emotions and experiences, was stronger than her usual reticence. The prospect was still daunting, even a little frightening, but a flicker of anticipation, a yearning for something more than the familiar comfort of her quiet life, began to take root. Myra knew this was uncharted territory, but for the first time, she felt a hesitant pull to explore it, step by tentative step.

  Myra finally lifted her gaze to meet Freya’s, her cheeks still flushed but her eyes holding a newfound honesty. She took a shaky breath, her heart still hammering against her ribs.

  “Freya,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “whenever you kiss me… my heart… it flutters. Like a trapped bird.” She pressed a hand to her chest, as if trying to still the erratic beat. “And… the sensation… it feels… blissful. In a way I’ve never felt before.”

  She hesitated, her gaze dropping again for a moment before she bravely met Freya’s eyes once more. “I feel… drawn to you. Like a moth to a fme, even though I know… you’re different. And it’s not just the kiss. There’s this… this feeling… like I want to… to do it again. And not just the kissing.” Her voice grew softer, almost confessional. “Like I would… willingly surrender myself to you. My… my body.”

  A deep blush stained her cheeks as she admitted these intensely personal and confusing feelings. She had never spoken such thoughts aloud before, barely even acknowledged them to herself until this moment. The vulnerability in her eyes was palpable, a raw and honest dispy of the emotions Freya had awakened within her.

  Myra's internal struggle mirrored the tumultuous beat of her own heart. The familiar comfort of her past seemed a distant shore compared to the intoxicating and unsettling ocean she now found herself adrift upon. Why Freya? Why this intense, almost magnetic pull towards someone so different, so… other? And a woman, no less. Her upbringing, her understanding of affection, had never prepared her for this.

  “I don’t understand it,” Myra confessed, her voice filled with a mixture of wonder and bewilderment. “This… this feeling I have for you. What… what is it called, Freya?” She looked at the ancient vampire with a desperate longing for understanding, for an expnation for the powerful and unfamiliar emotions that were now consuming her.