Maya's world was a shroud of darkness, a self-imposed exile to control the raging hunger within her. Leaning against the tree, she clung to the fleeting relief brought by Junior's blood. The minutes stretched into an eternity as she fought to maintain control, her senses dulled to the chaos outside.
But then, like a whisper through the void, the throbbing sensation returned, a relentless pulse that cut through her self-imposed isolation. Her eyes snapped open, the darkness replaced by a crimson haze. The demonic energy that had been a distant hum now roared in her ears, and she felt it—three distinct blood scents wafting through the air.
The first two were thick, rich, and tantalizingly close. The third was more subtle, hidden beneath the overpowering aroma of the other two, but it was there, beckoning her with an irresistible allure.
