Gabriel lay in his bed, staring up at the carved ceiling beams of the estate. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed past midnight, each toll sinking deeper into his restless head. His skin burned as though fevered, but it wasn't illness. He knew that much. He could feel it in his bones—an unfamiliar hunger, alive and gnawing, curling under his ribs.
His sheets were tangled around his legs, damp with sweat. His mouth was dry, yet water had no taste anymore. He had emptied two glasses from the jug by his bedside, but the thirst clawed harder after each sip.
'What's happening to me?'
He pressed the heel of his hand to his chest. His heart thundered wildly, faster than it should. His ears strained and caught sounds he had never noticed before—the scratch of mice in the cellar, the wind dragging across the eaves, even the faint heartbeat of the servant dozing two floors below.
The sound of blood rushing through their veins. Though his senses had always been sharper than average, this is different.
Gabriel sat up abruptly, shoving the thought away. His nails dug crescents into his palms as if pain could anchor him. He was fifteen, not sickly, not weak. He was supposed to be in school tomorrow, supposed to attend his lessons and keep up appearances. He was supposed to be normal.
But tonight, everything inside him screamed he wasn't.
The thirst sharpened, unbearable. His throat burned as though he had swallowed fire. He pushed to his feet, staggering toward the jug again, and poured water with shaking hands. The liquid hit his stomach like ash. He gagged, coughing against the metallic aftertaste.
Something in him recoiled. Water wasn't enough. Food wasn't enough.
He needed something else.
The door creaked open.
Gabriel's head jerked up.
Standing in the doorway was Selene, his mother. Her figure was outlined by the faint light of the hallway lamp. She looked ageless, her pale skin smooth and unlined, her dark hair tumbling in waves over the silk robe she had hastily tied at the waist. To others, she looked like his older sister, not his mother. But to Gabriel, she had always been something more than ordinary, she was his everything, his mother…his anchor.
"Gabriel?" Her voice was quiet, but it carried the kind of command no one ignored, though concern shaped the angles of her face as she stepped closer. "Why are you awake at this hour?"
He tried to answer, but his throat was so dry no words came out. He swallowed, forcing his voice through the rasp. "I… I can't sleep. My body feels—wrong."
Selene came to the edge of his bed, her hand brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. Her touch was cool, steadying. But the moment her wrist brushed close to his face, his breath caught.
Her scent was different. Stronger. Sweet, metallic, intoxicating.
Gabriel froze, horrified by the way his mouth watered.
'No. No, this is insane.'
But his body leaned unconsciously closer, inhaling deeply before he forced himself back against the pillows. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.
Selene frowned, sensing his tension. "You're burning," she murmured, pressing her palm against his cheek. "This isn't just a fever, is it?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't. His gaze had fixed on the pulse that fluttered at the base of her throat.
She followed his eyes, and for a brief, fragile second, her expression faltered. Her pupils narrowed, then softened into something like resignation.
"Gabriel," she said softly, almost to herself. "Not yet…"
Her hand lingered at her neck before she dropped it.
Gabriel tore his eyes away, shame washing over him. He swung his legs off the bed, backing away toward the window. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he whispered, his voice shaking. "It's like I'm… hungry, but not for food. I can hear things I shouldn't. I—"
He broke off, hands clutching his head. The sounds were louder now—the heartbeats, the rush of blood in every body within reach of his awareness. It filled his skull like thunder.
Selene's lips tightened.
For years she had prepared herself for this. She had watched him grow, half dreading the day his true nature would break through. She had hoped it might never come, or at least not so soon. But she knew the signs.
The heir's blood was stirring.
"Gabriel," she said firmly, straightening her shoulders. The moment of softness was gone. "Listen to me. Whatever you feel, you must control it. Do you hear me?"
"I'm trying!" His voice cracked. He pressed a fist to his mouth. "But it hurts. It's like something's alive in me, clawing to get out. I can't—I can't stop it—"
Selene's eyes darkened with conflict. She moved closer, every step deliberate. She could feel the hunger radiating off him like heat. And beneath that hunger was fear. Her boy—no, not just her boy, but the child she had sworn to protect with her life—was terrified of himself.
She wanted to hold him. She wanted to banish his pain. But she also knew this was the beginning of something irreversible.
"Look at me, Gabriel."
His gaze rose reluctantly, his eyes wild, rimmed in crimson light that hadn't been there before. Her chest tightened.
It's starting.
He inhaled sharply, catching her scent again. The sweet, metallic pull gripped him harder, nearly doubling him over. "Mother—"
The word tore out of him like a plea.
Selene froze, her heart trembling in her chest. That one word nearly undid her. He had no idea how dangerous he already was to her—not just because of what flowed in his veins, but because of the storm he had always stirred in hers.
She hid it quickly, hardening her tone. "Enough. You must endure."
Gabriel's fingers dug into the window ledge, splintering the wood under his grip. His body trembled violently. Sweat rolled down his temple. "I—I can't…"
The last word was nearly a sob.
Selene's breath caught.
For fifteen years, she had raised him, taught him, hidden her nature, hidden his. She had thought she could postpone this moment. But now… now there was no turning away.
Her hand drifted, almost unconsciously, to the side of her neck.
She hesitated, her heart hammering with a war of instinct and reason. To offer herself would mean crossing a line she had sworn never to cross. But to deny him could mean his suffering, or worse—the loss of control that would expose him too soon.
Her lips parted.
Then, just as quickly, she pulled her hand back and clenched it at her side.
Not yet. Not tonight. Not while I still have a chance to prepare him.
Gabriel's head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing, crimson burning in their depths. He had felt that moment of hesitation, that flicker of willingness.
"Mother…" His voice was low, ragged. Hungry.
Selene inhaled slowly, mastering the shiver that threatened to betray her.
"Rest," she commanded. "Tomorrow, we will speak of this."
But Gabriel shook his head violently, clutching his chest. "I can't—"
His body doubled over, a low growl rumbling from deep in his throat.
Selene stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but didn't pull away. His breath came in short, sharp gasps against her wrist, and she knew he was one heartbeat away from sinking his teeth into her.
Her pulse quickened.
And she whispered to herself, too soft for him to hear: "Not yet."