Chapter 13: Feeding II

"Alright, let's start with someone easy."

Ethan turned to Clara and asked, "Easy?"

"Yes, since it's your first time, you might find it hard with someone who has all their mental defenses up." Clara touched her lip with a thoughtful look before she stood up. "Come."

Ethan followed her as they made their way to the railing overlooking the first floor.

"Hmm, yes, she'll do," she said and gestured to the lone drunk lady dancing in the middle of the floor.

"Her?"

"Yes."

"So that's what you meant by not having their mental defenses up?"

Clara smiled, "It'll help."

Ethan shrugged, "So how do I do this?"

"Like I said, hold eye contact, get close to her, and command her. You can bring her back up here."

Ethan nodded before taking a deep breath and heading downstairs. Thankfully, the bar was still empty, with only a few patrons present. His eyes met the bartender, Julien, who gave him a knowing smile and nod.

Ethan then turned his gaze to his target. She was still busy dancing with her back to him. He waited until she turned around before he made his way toward her. Ethan's mind came up with countless plans for approaching her.

The second their eyes met, Ethan's body moved before he could realize it. With a flirty smile, he made sure the lady could see him as he approached. She swayed to an imagined rhythm, her movements unsteady and slightly exaggerated. Her eyes were half-closed, a blissful smile playing on her lips as she spun slowly, arms loosely outstretched.

Her clothes were slightly disheveled, hinting at the late hour and the drinks that had likely loosened her inhibitions. The dim, multicolored lights cast shifting shadows around her as Ethan approached.

"Hmm, you're cute," the lady spoke with a drunken grin as she threw her hands around Ethan's neck.

It was too easy. Ethan didn't need to say anything- he just smiled back and maintained eye contact as they swayed unsteadily to the rhythm of the music, the drinks doing most of the job. The lady had short brown hair and hazel eyes, still, Ethan didn't pay any heed to her appearance. His mind was occupied by a rhythmic sound. It took him a second to realize it was her heartbeat he was hearing.

Ethan could feel his fangs elongated in his mouth as a sudden urge threatened to overwhelm him. A feeling of hunger unlike any, assaulted him. He almost missed a step as the drunken lady tumbled into his chest, the smell overwhelming his senses.

It was as if his body had a selective sense of smell. It ignored the smell of alcohol, the smell of cheap perfume, and sweat. Instead, it only focused on a particular one, one so sweet. It was more intoxicating than any drink, more addicting than any drug.

Ethan almost lost his composure right then and there. He had to physically stop himself from pouncing on the drunk lady. Ethan took a deep breath, his hands shaking as his stomach protested. His throat felt parched the longer he looked at the woman in his arms.

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Still, Ethan used every ounce of his strength to restrain himself. It didn't help that the intoxicated woman was dancing dangerously close to him, her neck just inches away. It felt akin to torture.

Knowing he would soon lose control, Ethan gently took the woman's chin and made her lock eyes with him.

"Come with me."

The order came as naturally as breathing. It felt as if they were connected by an invisible thread as they locked eyes. That was all Ethan needed. The woman's eyes became hazy as Ethan took her hand and led her upstairs. She followed silently behind him.

Once on the second floor, Clara watched them arrive with an impressed expression on her face. "Not bad; I'm surprised you could still hold yourself back."

Ethan didn't hear her speak, instead, he turned to his prey. His hand gripped her shoulder firmly, his strength far greater than he realized. He pushed her against the soft embrace of the sofa, his breath quickening as a fire ignited in his chest.

His mouth opened wide, his gums aching as his sharp, gleaming fangs extended. The tips caught the light for a fleeting second before plunging into her flesh. The moment his teeth broke the surface, time itself seemed to shatter.

Warm, thick, crimson life burst onto his tongue—a flood of ecstasy, unlike anything he had ever known. It was fire and silk, sweet and salty, rich with vitality. The taste bloomed in layers; first coppery and metallic, then smooth like dark wine infused with a thousand forbidden pleasures. It was the very essence of being, each pulse of her heartbeat pushing more of it into his mouth, into him.

The rush hit him like a storm. His senses exploded outward—he could feel the heat of her body radiating through his skin, hear the delicate flutter of her breath, smell the perfume mingled with desire. His veins surged with power, every cell alive and humming. Colors grew brighter behind his closed eyelids, the world an explosion of sensations.

His mind reeled, caught between pleasure and hunger. It wasn’t just nourishment—It was a baptism, a rebirth in blood, a connection so intimate it fused their beings together in a fleeting, feverish moment. Ethan could taste her secrets, her memories whispering on the edge of his consciousness, each drop a fragment of her soul.

It wasn't until Clara forcefully pulled away, that his chest heaved with exhilaration, and his heart—silent and still—seemed to echo with a phantom beat. Blood, warm and red, trickled down his prey's neck.

He had fed. And it was glorious.

"Calm yourself, any more and you would kill the poor lady."

Ethan glared at Clara, his eyes darting back to the woman on the sofa. Her eyes closed and her breath steady.

The taste was dangerous.

Ethan leaned back and stared at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow of what had just happened. It was better than any food, any drink, any drug. No matter how he described it, it still felt lacking.

He could sense the strength flowing through his cells. He felt invincible at the moment. A part of him— A large part wished nothing but to suck the woman dry. It felt as if Clara had taken away something important from him, and he couldn't help but feel resentful.

Ethan turned to glare at her.

Clara chuckled in response, "Don't look at me like that. You have to learn to control yourself. Drink in moderation."

She glanced at the woman, who now had her eyes half open, and said, "Go back home, dear."

The woman, still nameless to Ethan, wobbled unsteadily as she pushed herself up from the sofa. Her disheveled hair framed her flushed cheeks, and the faint line of crimson on her neck glimmered like a forbidden mark. She lingered for a breathless second, her glassy eyes unfocused before she stumbled toward the stairs.

Ethan watched her go, his eyes following her every wavering step. A strange, unwelcome pull twisted in his chest—a reluctant longing he didn’t fully understand. His fingers still tingled where they had held her, his lips still burned from the taste of her life on his tongue.

"Don't dwell on it. You'll learn not to get affected by it with time."

As her figure disappeared, the silence stretched thin and sharp. Ethan sank back against the sofa, his hand brushing against the cushion where she had sat. He stared at his palm, as though it could still hold the fleeting connection that had slipped through his grasp.

The memory of her pulse throbbed in his mind, Ethan understood that feeding was far more than he had ever imagined.

It wasn’t just survival. It was possession. It was intimacy. It was a brief, impossible taste of the very soul of another being—and it left him craving more.