Lieta hurried home after school, her stomach still unsettled from the garlic she had forced down earlier. The taste lingered in her mouth, bitter and nauseating. She needed blood—*real* blood—soon, or she wouldn't be able to focus.
Her mother was waiting for her when she arrived, concern etched on her face. "You look pale," she said, handing Lieta a small thermos. "Drink. Now."
Lieta didn't argue. She took the thermos and gulped down the chilled blood, the metallic tang soothing her instantly. Strength returned to her limbs, and the fog in her mind cleared.
"Better?" her mother asked.
Lieta nodded. "Much."
Her mother sighed. "You can't keep skipping your meals, Lieta. Especially not when you're around humans all day. The hunger… it can make you do things you'll regret."
Lieta's cheeks burned as she remembered the incident on the train—Feriole's neck, the warmth of his skin, the intoxicating scent of his blood. She had nearly lost control.
"I know," she muttered. "I'll be more careful."
---
The next day at school, Lieta was hyper-aware of Feriole's presence. Every time he passed by, her senses sharpened, drawn to the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat. She kept her distance, focusing on her notes, her books—anything to distract herself.
But fate had other plans.
During their biology lab, the teacher paired them together for an experiment. Lieta's hands trembled as she adjusted the microscope, painfully aware of how close Feriole was standing.
"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head. "You seem… tense."
Lieta forced a smile. "Just tired."
He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright. Let's get this over with."
As they worked, their fingers brushed accidentally, and Lieta recoiled as if burned. Feriole frowned but didn't comment.
Then, disaster struck.
While handling a scalpel, Feriole nicked his finger. A single drop of blood welled up—bright red, *delicious*.
Lieta's vision blurred. The scent filled her nostrils, sweet and irresistible. Her fangs ached, threatening to extend.
*No. No, no, no.*
She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. The pain helped, but barely.
Feriole, oblivious, simply wiped the blood away with a tissue. "Clumsy," he muttered.
Lieta excused herself, rushing to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, gripping the sink until her knuckles turned white.
*This is dangerous.*
If she couldn't control herself around him, she'd have to avoid him completely.
But as she returned to class, she caught Feriole watching her again—his gaze intense, unreadable.
And for the first time, she wondered…
*Does he suspect?*
---
That evening, Feriole sat in his room, flipping through the vampire book again. He paused at a passage:
*"Vampires are drawn to human blood, especially in moments of weakness. Their hunger can make them lose control."*
His fingers traced the words, his mind drifting back to Lieta—her strange behavior, the way she had kissed his neck on the train, her reaction today when he cut himself.
A suspicion took root.
But instead of disgust, he felt… curiosity.
*What if…?*
He closed the book, a determined glint in his eyes.
He needed to know the truth.
**To Be Continued…**