CRAVED: SHE TOUCHED THE MONSTER.

BLOOD IN THE WOODS...

The rain hadn't stopped since the woods.

It hit the high windows of the old manor like it meant to break in, to drag the storm straight through the halls and flood the place clean. But nothing could touch it. Not the weather. Not time. Not even the guilt clawing at his ribs.

Liam sat alone in the parlor, shadows stretching across the tall ceilings, fire burning low in the hearth. The whisky in his glass had gone untouched. He wasn't even sure when he'd poured it. He kept seeing her-Irene, lit by the moonlight between the trees, the way she looked at him when she realized what he was. That flicker of fear she'd tried to hide behind her anger.

He had told himself it was over.

But now he was on the road before he could stop his body from moving. The storm blurred the trees and the world into a smear of black and silver. He drove fast, without thinking, just needing to see her again. Needing to make it right before his father found her. Before love got her killed.

---

She opened the door barefoot, sweater sleeves pulled over her hands, hair still damp from a shower. The surprise in her eyes twisted into confusion, then something colder.

"You shouldn't be here."

"I know."

Silence stretched. Her hand was still on the doorknob.

"I thought we ended this," she said quietly.

"I did too."

A long breath passed between them. He looked tired. She looked guarded. But she stepped aside anyway.

---

Dinner wasn't planned. She just made what she was going to eat alone. Pasta, a bottle of red she barely touched. He didn't eat. Just sat across from her like he was trying to memorize the shape of her mouth when she smiled. Not that she was doing much of that.

It wasn't until after-the quiet clearing of dishes, the pause by the stairs-that she looked back at him and said, almost carelessly, "You coming up?"

---

Her room was warm. Lit by a soft lamp, the bed slightly unmade. She curled up near him on the mattress, legs pulled under her, that nervous energy still buzzing under her skin.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," she said.

"I shouldn't have come."

"But you did."

He didn't have an answer. She leaned in and kissed him-tentative, searching. He let her. God, he let her. And when she kissed him again, deeper this time, he kissed her back. Pulled her closer. Her hands slid under his shirt. His fingers tangled in her hair. Skin met skin.

Clothes were half off. His breath hitched as her mouth moved to his throat.

And then-

His vision darkened.

Not from lust. From hunger.

The warmth of her pulse called to something ancient and brutal inside him, and suddenly the taste of her lips wasn't enough. He could smell her blood. Hear the rush of it behind her collarbone. His body tightened, aching, mouth parting for fangs he tried to will away.

No.

He broke from her, chest heaving, eyes wide like he'd just surfaced from drowning.

"Liam?" she whispered, still reaching for him. "What is it?"

He stood too fast. His shirt half-buttoned. Her touch still clinging to his skin like heat.

"Why did you stop?" she asked again, quieter this time. "Did I-do something wrong?"

He shook his head but said nothing. He couldn't look at her.

"Liam-" she started.

But he was already gone. Out the door. Into the night. Before he could want her in the wrong way. Before he could become his father's son.

The wind lashed through the trees like it was trying to tear the leaves free of their branches, strip the forest bare. Liam didn't feel the cold. He didn't feel the thorns scraping his skin or the blood already drying beneath his nails.

All he felt was her.

Her warmth. Her pulse. Her breath on his neck.

And the hunger.

He slammed his back against a tree, chest heaving. His shirt clung to him, soaked in sweat and rain. He dragged his hands through his hair, baring his teeth to the night. The ache in his jaw throbbed. His throat burned.

He could still taste her on his lips.

"f**k-"

He punched the trunk. Bark split, bone cracked. He didn't care.

He couldn't stay in that room. Couldn't lie beside her with that voice in his head screaming for blood. He'd seen it happen before - what happened when vampires pretended they were human. When they thought they could love and not devour.

His father had warned him.

There is no room for love in our kind. You'll love her - yes - right up to the moment her body goes cold in your arms.

He stumbled through the dark like something hunted. But he was the predator.

And when he heard the laughter - the human kind, soft and careless - his feet moved before his thoughts caught up.

---

They were just kids. Early twenties maybe. Two tents, a fire, music playing from a phone half-buried in someone's jacket. He could smell beer, weed, firewood.

And blood.

The thirst rose like a tide in his throat. His fingers curled at his sides. He stepped between trees like a ghost.

One of them looked up.

"Hey-" he started. "You okay, man? You lost?"

Liam's eyes flickered black.

The scream didn't last long.

He tore through them like a storm. No control. No elegance. Not like his father taught. It was messy, animalistic - blood staining his mouth, his shirt, his hands. The girl had begged. He didn't hear it. The other tried to run. He didn't make it ten feet.

When it was done, Liam stood over the bodies, breath ragged, face streaked red. His eyes were wide and hollow. The thirst was gone.

But so was something else.

He dropped to his knees in the wet moss and let out a sound - low, shaking, not quite human. He pressed his hands to his face. The metallic stench of blood made him gag.

"Feel better?"

The voice cut clean through the silence.

Cold. Measured. Familiar.

Liam looked up.

His father stood just beyond the tree line - tall, statuesque, not a drop of blood on him. Black coat perfect. Silver eyes gleaming with contempt.

Liam said nothing. Just stared, breathless, jaw clenched.

"I must say," his father continued, stepping forward, "it's almost impressive how low you've fallen. At least when I hunt, I leave something behind worth remembering."

"Don't," Liam rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't what? Tell you the truth?" His father's smile was razor-thin. "You ran from her. And now look at you-crouched in the mud like a starved dog."

"I couldn't hurt her."

His father laughed - a low, amused thing that sounded like gravel.

"Of course you could've. That's the point, Liam. You wanted to. She was begging for it."

"I won't be like you," Liam growled, standing slowly.

"You already are. You just lack the spine to admit it." He gestured to the corpses. "Is this better? Three nameless strangers? You kill anyway. Might as well make it mean something."

"Irene isn't-"

"She's a liability," his father snapped, stepping close now, voice like ice. "You let her live, and she'll either betray you or die because of you. You think you love her? Good. Love makes the blood sweeter."

Liam's hands were trembling. His teeth clenched so hard it hurt.

"She's not food."

His father studied him for a long moment, then leaned in slightly. His voice dropped.

"She's not yours, either. Not for long. You will feed from her one day, Liam. Whether it's with her consent or over her corpse - well, that's entirely up to you."

Liam's jaw twitched. His fists clenched again, nails digging into his palms until they bled.

His father gave a final, disdainful glance toward the bodies. "Clean yourself up. You reek of desperation."

And then he vanished - like mist swallowed by the trees.

Liam stood there in the dark, rain falling harder now, blood soaking the moss beneath his feet, the silence deafening.

He didn't know what was worse - the hunger, or the fact that his father was right.