Freya stood within the shadowed interior, her crimson eyes softening as Myra stepped inside. A faint, welcoming smile touched her lips. "Myra," she murmured, her voice a low, resonant melody in the quiet space.

  Myra returned the smile, her own radiating pure happiness. She held out the leather-bound book. "Here you go, Freya. Thank you for lending it to me."

  Freya waved a dismissive hand, her gaze never leaving Myra's face. "Consider it a small gift. In fact," she added, gesturing towards the towering shelves den with volumes, "feel free to take any book here that catches your fancy. They have been gathering dust for far too long, and it would please me to know they are being read."

  A warmth spread through Myra's chest at Freya's generous offer. She gnced around at the countless stories waiting to be discovered, a genuine excitement sparkling in her eyes. "Oh, Freya," she began, her voice filled with gratitude and a hint of pyful consideration, "are you sure? There are so many wonderful-looking books..."

  Myra's fingers brushed against the spine of a slender volume, its cover faded but its presence intriguing. She carefully pulled it from the shelf and turned to Freya, holding it out. "Freya," she asked, her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity, "what does this passage mean?" She pointed to a line on the aged page, her gaze expectant.

  A soft smile touched Freya's lips at Myra's eagerness. "Of course, Myra," she said warmly, stepping closer. She leaned in, her crimson eyes scanning the delicate script. The dim light of the shop seemed to gather around them as Freya began to read the passage aloud, her voice a soothing murmur that brought the ancient words to life.

  As Freya spoke, her voice weaving a tapestry of meaning, Myra watched her, truly saw her. Now, her gaze was soft, filled with a tenderness that blossomed from the depths of her heart. She saw the gentle curve of Freya's lips as she formed the words, the subtle flicker of understanding in her crimson eyes, the elegant line of her jaw. This was not a stranger deciphering an arcane text; this was her Freya, sharing a moment of quiet intimacy. The love that filled Myra’s being shone in her gaze, a silent testament to the profound connection that had taken root between them, transforming the enigmatic vampire into the cherished center of her world.

  Suddenly, a small scattering of colorful objects tumbled from Myra’s pocket, nding with soft, almost silent plinks on the aged wooden floor. They were small, brightly wrapped candies, a stark contrast to the muted tones of the antique shop.

  Freya’s brow arched slightly in curiosity, her crimson gaze dropping to the fallen sweets. “And what precisely are these, Myra?” she asked, her voice tinged with a gentle amusement. She had observed many strange human customs in her long existence, but the significance of these small, brightly colored objects eluded her in this context.

  Myra’s cheeks flushed slightly, a small, embarrassed smile pying on her lips. She reached into her pocket, her fingers fumbling for the drawstring closure. With a soft tug, the top opened, revealing a small pouch filled with more of the colorful treats. “Oh, these?” she said, holding out the open pouch towards Freya. “They’re… candy.”

  "These are lemon and honey candies," Myra expined, her voice gentle as she offered the open pouch a little closer to Freya. A flicker of curiosity danced in her eyes as a thought occurred to her. "Freya," she asked softly, tilting her head slightly, "I... I wonder if you can taste them?" The question hung in the air, carrying a mixture of innocent curiosity and a deeper yearning to share even the simplest of human experiences with the ancient being she loved.

  Freya’s crimson eyes flickered down to the offered candies, a thoughtful expression gracing her features. “Indeed,” she mused, her voice a low murmur, “it has been… a considerable span since I partook of what one might call ‘human food,’ aside from the rather… unique loaf of bread you so thoughtfully provided st time.” A pyful glint entered her eyes, and a ghost of a smile touched her lips. “But who knows what wonders or… unexpected consequences might arise from a simple sweet? One must occasionally embrace the unknown, wouldn’t you agree?” Her tone was light, teasing, yet Myra’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as the memory of the garlic-infused bread resurfaced, a silent testament to her earlier, less informed attempts at offering sustenance.

  Quickly, Myra’s fingers fumbled with the crinkling paper of a candy wrapper, her heart doing a little flutter. She carefully peeled it open, revealing the glistening, pale yellow sweet. Offering it to Freya, her hand trembled almost imperceptibly. Freya inclined her head slightly, her gaze fixed on Myra’s face for a fleeting moment before she slowly parted her lips. Myra’s breath hitched in her throat, her eyes drawn almost involuntarily to the delicate curve of Freya’s mouth as the ancient vampire prepared to accept the humble offering. A strange mix of nervousness and intense fascination held her captive, every sense heightened in that small, intimate moment.

  Freya delicately pced the honey candy on her tongue, closing her eyes for a brief moment as if in concentration. After a thoughtful pause, she opened them again, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Curious," she murmured, her voice soft. "I detect... nothing. Not sweetness, not any distinct fvor."

  "But... but it's a honey candy," Myra stammered, a wave of disappointment washing over her. "It should be sweet, all golden and sweet like honey. But you taste nothing at all?" Her gaze drifted almost involuntarily to Freya's lips, a sudden idea sparking within her.

  Her eyes widening slightly, Myra took a small, hesitant step closer. "Maybe..." she began, her voice a soft whisper, her gaze still fixed on Freya's mouth, "maybe I can make it sweeter."

  Freya's brow arched in intrigued surprise. "And how, pray tell, would you manage that?" she asked, her voice a low, curious murmur, a hint of amusement dancing in her crimson eyes.

  Without a word, Myra leaned forward, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She closed the small distance between them and gently pressed her lips to Freya's. The kiss was soft at first, a tender offering, a silent expression of the love that bloomed within her. Freya, though clearly surprised by the sudden and bold move, made no move to pull away, her lips softening in response to Myra's innocent touch. The honey candy remained untouched on Freya's tongue, but a different kind of sweetness began to bloom between them.

  Pulling back slightly, her breath catching in her throat, Myra searched Freya's eyes, a hopeful question shining in their depths. "Did... did that taste any sweeter, Freya?" she whispered, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink.