Saturday morning arrived, quiet and productive. The combined spiritual depletion from the last two nights left Chase feeling slow, but spiritually stable. He focused on the Lore team's current assignment, diving deep into the fictional pantheon's history. The work was demanding, but for the first time in centuries, his mind was engaged in creation rather than destruction.
The Lore team was humming. Marcus Thorne, still the picture of intense corporate professionalism, utilized Chase's "sub-spiritual" definition of Essence to refine the game mechanics. Elara Chen, the human scriptwriter, constantly popped up to ask for Chase's input on the main protagonist's motivations—questions Chase deflected with vague answers that drew heavily on his own past life as a warrior.
Seraphina, the vampire, remained coolly professional but watched him with a calculating intensity that was more unnerving than Lilith's outright hunger. She was fascinated by his ability to articulate the physics of spiritual energy, asking him detailed, probing questions about the difference between passive leakage and active accumulation.
The day flew by in a blur of meetings, documents, and code-checking. By 6:00 PM, the office lights had dimmed, and the weekend silence had begun to settle over OmniCorp.
Chase was packing his briefcase when Seraphina appeared at his cubicle wall, her posture still perfectly rigid, her long, dark hair sleek and precise.
"Mr. Vance," she stated, her voice the low contralto that sent a shiver down his spine. "I have encountered a significant issue with the ancient Khazarian texts. The translation is inconsistent, and if not resolved, it will undermine the entire third act's historical context."
Chase sighed. "Can it wait until Monday, Seraphina? I have domestic matters to attend to."
"Regrettably, no," she replied, stepping closer. "It requires your unique insight and immediate attention. It's a matter of critical historical consistency. I require your assistance for an hour or so of overtime."
Chase hesitated. He was exhausted, and his Essence was low. But refusing a professional request from Seraphina was difficult, and he genuinely didn't want the core mythology to be flawed. "Very well. An hour."
Seraphina led him not to her own desk, but to a dark, unused conference room deeper in the Lore wing. As soon as the heavy, soundproof door clicked shut, the professional facade shattered.
The air in the room crackled with overwhelming, suffocating power. Seraphina's transformation was startling: her skin paled slightly, her dark hair rippled and took on a shimmering, glowing purple hue, and her eyes flared into molten purple. From the back of her designer skirt, a long, slender, spiked tail whipped out, flicking with feral excitement. She looked less like a corporate consultant and more like a demonic, aristocratic assassin.
"The Khazarian texts are perfectly consistent, Mr. Vance," Seraphina purred, her voice now layered with menace. "But I cannot wait for your capricious Essence levels to be 'maximized.' The smell of you, even this low, is exquisite. And you are here, alone, in a room where no one can hear you scream."
She stalked toward him, eyes blazing. "I've tolerated Lilith's possessive scent on you long enough. But your Essence is the key to unlocking true power, and I intend to take it. Whether by drinking your blood or by eating you entirely, I am taking it now."
He knew something like this would happen eventually but he did not expect it to be so soon, and not from his quiet work mate, but she was a vampire so it was just a matter of time.
Chase didn't flinch. He recognized the look in her eyes; this wasn't calculated flirting. This was pure, unadulterated primal hunting instinct. But his body felt heavy, his spiritual reserves tapped almost dry by Rixsa. With his current strength and unrefined body, fighting this powerful, determined vampire would lead to a messy, certain death.
He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Seraphina, stop. Don't waste the energy on a messy fight. You are right. My Essence is low, but potent. Fighting me would degrade the quality. I will agree to your request, provided it is fast and discreet."
Seraphina paused, suspicion warring with avarice in her purple eyes. "Agreement? You submit?"
"I submit to necessity," Chase corrected, moving to sit on the edge of the conference table. "You want Essence transferred by blood. Fine. But get it over with."
The unexpected submission made Seraphina's smile widen into a triumphant, utterly inhuman flash of fangs. She moved to him in a blur, mounting his lap and wrapping her long legs around his waist, pinning him to the table.
"An intelligent choice, little battery," she hissed, pulling his head back by his hair, exposing his neck.
Chase closed his eyes and braced for the agonizing bite. Her fangs sank in, not painfully, but with a deep, consuming pressure. He felt the cold, draining pull of his remaining Essence being swiftly siphoned away through his blood.
But as Seraphina fed, something unexpected happened.
Vampires secrete complex toxins in their saliva to facilitate blood flow and subdue the host. They can paralyze, weaken and cause the blood of the person injected to stop clotting. These toxins, combined with the sudden, intimate contact, slammed into the biological core of Chase's new human body.
A flush of heat spread through him, instantly negating the cold drain. The toxins registered not as paralyzing poison, but as raw, overwhelming arousal.
Seraphina, focused on the feast, began to rock and grind on his lap, a primal, celebratory movement of possession, while simultaneously licking and kissing the bite marks on his neck to facilitate the drain of his essence enriched blood.
The combination—the intense physical contact, the sexual rush of the toxins, and the draining hunger—was a dizzying, spiraling descent into pure, animalistic sensation.
Stop it! the small, conscious part of Chase screamed. This is lethal! Lilith will kill me if she smells this on me!
The realization slammed through the euphoric haze: he was actively participating, his body betraying him with every surge of heat. If Lilith found out her valuable, protected resource had been used in such an intimate, draining fashion by another predator in her building, he wouldn't just be fired; he'd be incinerated.
With a superhuman surge of will, Chase grabbed Seraphina's hips, wrenching the session to a halt.
"Enough!" he choked out, his voice hoarse. "The transfer is complete. Discretion, Seraphina. Remember the agreement."
Seraphina paused, her purple eyes glazed over with satisfaction and hunger. She tasted the blood on her lips, then slowly, reluctantly, dismounted, her human facade returning with effort.
"Magnificent," she breathed, licking the remaining blood from her fangs. "Truly the finest Essence I have tasted. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Vance. I look forward to working overtime with you again."
Chase didn't reply. He stumbled to his feet, adjusting his collar to hide the raw, dual bite marks on his neck. His legs were shaky, his core still humming with residual arousal, and his neck pulsed with the deep, throbbing ache of a near-fatal drain.
He fled the conference room, moving like a ghost through the darkened office. He pressed himself against the shadowed walls, praying he wouldn't encounter anyone, especially not a stray monster with a nose for vampire saliva. If the scent of Seraphina's toxins or the sight of the bite marks reached Lilith, his career, and his life, were officially over.
He made it to the elevator, punched the lobby button, and waited for the door to seal him away from the Executive Feast he had just barely survived. The price of overtime had nearly cost him everything.