Chapter 9: What Hunger Turns Into
940 Words
He didn’t go back.
Not once.
Not even close.
Lucien stood in the deepest part of the forest, far beyond the city, where no human heartbeat could reach him, where no memory of her should exist.
And still—
She was there.
In his mind.
In his senses.
In the silence.
“…Stop.”
The word came out low.
Sharp.
His hand slammed against the trunk of a tree.
The wood cracked instantly under the force.
But it didn’t help.
Nothing did.
Her voice.
Her face.
Her heartbeat.
It kept coming back.
Again.
Again.
Again.
His breath turned uneven.
“This is weakness.”
His voice dropped into something darker.
Something harsher.
“I don’t feel.”
A lie.
His fingers dug into his own arm—
Hard enough to tear skin.
Pain shot through him.
Sharp.
Violent.
Good.
He pressed harder.
Letting it deepen.
Letting it hurt.
Because pain was real.
Pain was control.
Not this—
This pull.
This need.
This… craving.
His head lowered slightly.
“…You’re nothing.”
But the words didn’t hold.
Because even now—
Even here—
He could almost hear her heartbeat.
That soft, steady rhythm.
Calling him.
His control snapped again.
In a blink—
He moved.
Not toward her.
Toward something else.
A man ran through the empty road, breath ragged, heart racing in panic.
He didn’t know what was chasing him.
He only knew—
It was close.
Too close.
A shadow dropped in front of him.
Silent.
Sudden.
He stopped instantly.
And then—
Too late.
Lucien’s hand closed around his throat.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
“Please—” the man choked out.
Lucien didn’t respond.
His eyes were dark.
Empty.
No hesitation.
No control.
Only hunger.
But not just hunger for blood.
Something deeper.
Something worse.
His fangs sank in.
This time—
He didn’t stop.
Didn’t pull back.
Didn’t hesitate.
He drank.
Hard.
Relentless.
The man struggled—
Then weakened—
Then stilled.
But Lucien didn’t let go.
Even when the heartbeat faded—
Even when there was nothing left—
He kept going.
Like he was trying to drain something else.
Something inside himself.
When he finally pulled away—
The body dropped lifelessly to the ground.
Lucien stood there.
Still.
Blood on his lips.
“…It’s not enough.”
Because it wasn’t.
It never was.
Across the city—
Elara sat by the same window.
Same place.
Same silence.
Days had passed.
And still—
Nothing.
Her fingers traced the glass slowly.
“…You said you wouldn’t come near me again.”
Her voice was soft.
Almost distant.
“So why does it feel like you’re still here?”
Because he was.
In her thoughts.
In her chest.
In every quiet moment.
Her hand moved again—
Touching her neck.
That place.
Her breath faltered slightly.
“…What is this?”
It didn’t feel like fear anymore.
It felt like something missing.
Something she shouldn’t want—
But did.
Her eyes closed slowly.
“…Why did you stop?”
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
And the answer—
Never came.
“Interesting.”
A voice broke the silence elsewhere.
Smooth.
Cold.
Observing.
A figure stood in the shadows, watching from a distance.
Valen.
His gaze rested on Lucien, who stood motionless among the trees, blood still staining his hands.
“…You’ve changed.”
No response.
Lucien didn’t even look at him.
But Valen smiled faintly.
Because he could see it.
The difference.
The instability.
The darkness.
“…You’re losing control.”
A pause.
Then—
“…Good.”
That word carried something deeper.
Something twisted.
Valen stepped forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with interest.
“For a moment, I thought you were becoming… soft.”
Still no reaction.
But Lucien’s hand tightened into a fist.
“…This isn’t softness,” Valen continued, almost amused.
“This is transformation.”
His gaze darkened.
“You’re becoming what you were meant to be.”
A monster.
Stronger.
More dangerous.
Uncontrolled.
Lucien’s voice finally came.
Low.
Sharp.
“…Stay out of it.”
Valen smiled.
“That depends.”
A pause.
“Is she the reason?”
Silence.
That was answer enough.
Valen’s smile widened slightly.
“…A human.”
The word almost sounded like amusement.
“…How disappointing.”
But his eyes said something else.
Interest.
Curiosity.
Possibility.
“…Or maybe not.”
Lucien’s head lifted instantly.
That was the first reaction.
And Valen noticed.
Of course he did.
“…Careful, Lucien,” he said softly.
“Things like this don’t end well.”
A pause.
Then quieter—
“…For her.”
That did it.
Lucien moved in a blur—
Grabbing Valen by the collar.
Violent.
Sudden.
Their eyes met.
Dark against darker.
“…Don’t.”
The warning came low.
Deadly.
Valen didn’t react.
Didn’t resist.
Instead—
He smiled.
“There it is.”
His voice dropped into something satisfied.
“…Now I see it.”
Lucien’s grip tightened.
But Valen only leaned closer.
Whispering—
“You’re already lost.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Because somewhere—
Deep down—
Lucien knew.
He was right.
Later that night—
Lucien stood alone again.
Still.
Silent.
But this time—
He didn’t try to stop it.
The thought.
Her.
Instead—
His gaze darkened slowly.
“…If you’re the reason…”
His voice lowered.
Colder.
More dangerous than ever.
“…then I should end it.”
A pause.
“…Before I lose what’s left of me.”
But the way he said it—
It didn’t sound like a decision.
It sounded like a threat.
Not to himself.
To her.
- Writer
