The eerie glow of the rest floor bathed everything in a soft, pale light as Michael stirred awake. His muscles ached less than usual, the tension from countless battles melted away for the first time in what felt like ages. The strange serenity of the floor seemed to cradle them, providing a rare moment of peace. But the sensation that stood out most was the warmth beside him.
Valencia.
Michael turned his head slightly, finding her curled against him. Her jet-black hair, tipped with red, fanned out across the makeshift bed they'd created from discarded cloaks. Her arm was draped possessively over his chest, her nails gently grazing his skin. The closeness was… different now. It wasn't just the proximity of battle partners. Something had shifted between them last night, something irreversible.
His heart pounded as the memories of their intimacy resurfaced. The way her fangs had grazed his skin, her breath shaky and controlled as she fed from him, and the way their connection had deepened afterward in a way words couldn't describe.
As he began to shift, Valencia's grip tightened—almost instinctively. Her crimson eyes fluttered open, locking onto his. Her gaze was intense, sharper than usual, and filled with an almost predatory gleam. For a moment, Michael thought he saw a flicker of something darker in her expression, something possessive and dangerous.
"You're awake," she whispered, her voice soft but carrying an edge that sent a chill down his spine. She didn't move her hand from his chest, her fingers now tracing slow, deliberate circles over his skin. "I thought I'd let you rest… after everything."
Michael swallowed, feeling the weight of her words. "Yeah… I needed it. I think we both did."
Valencia's lips curved into a small smile, but it wasn't the usual gentle one. There was something sharper about it, a hunger that lingered just beneath the surface. She shifted slightly, moving closer, her body pressing against his. "You were so… generous with me last night," she murmured, her voice dripping with a strange mix of affection and something more obsessive. "It made me realize how much I need you. How much I can't stand the thought of losing you."
Michael blinked, sensing the change in her tone. He tried to sit up, but she leaned over him, her hand pressing firmly against his chest to keep him down. Her crimson eyes glinted with a strange, possessive intensity that he hadn't seen before.
"Valencia…" he began, his voice cautious. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going anywhere."
Her smile widened, her fingers trailing from his chest up to his throat, her nails grazing his skin in a way that sent a shiver through him. "Good," she whispered, her gaze never leaving his. "Because I don't think I could handle it if you did."
There was something unsettling about the way she said it. Her tone was sweet, but underneath, there was an almost manic edge. She shifted again, moving to straddle him, her weight pinning him down as she leaned closer, her face inches from his.
"You're mine now, Michael," she whispered, her voice low and possessive. "I've tasted your blood, felt your warmth. You can't just walk away from me. Not after last night."
Michael's heart raced, not just from the closeness but from the intensity in her words. He had always known that Valencia was powerful, dangerous even, but this was different. This wasn't the same girl he had fought beside for the past couple days. She had changed—more than just physically from her transformation into a vampire. Something deeper had shifted inside her.
"I wasn't planning on leaving," Michael said softly, trying to keep his tone calm despite the storm of emotions brewing inside him.
Valencia's eyes softened slightly, but the possessiveness remained. Her hand slid up to cup his cheek, her fingers cold yet tender against his skin. "I know," she whispered, leaning down to press her forehead against his. "But I need you to understand, Michael. You belong to me now. And I won't let anyone take you from me. Ever."
Her words sent a chill through him. There was no hesitation, no doubt in her voice. It was a statement of fact, a vow. Michael felt the weight of it settle over him, and part of him wondered if this was the cost of the bond they had formed—the price of allowing her to feed from him, of sharing something so intimate.
"Valencia," he said quietly, his hand moving to gently rest on her waist. "I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together, remember?"
Her expression softened at his words, and for a moment, the intensity in her gaze dimmed. She leaned down, her lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss. But even in that kiss, Michael could feel the hunger, the need for control, the desperate desire to keep him close.
When she pulled back, her eyes shimmered with an emotion he couldn't quite place. "Promise me," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Promise me you'll stay with me, no matter what."
"I promise," Michael replied, his voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling inside him.
Her smile returned, and this time, it was softer, more genuine. She leaned down again, resting her head on his chest, her body relaxing against his. "Good," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Because I can't lose you, Michael. I won't."
As they lay there, Michael stared up at the glowing ceiling of the rest floor, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of Valencia's possessiveness, her desperation to keep him close. And yet, despite the unease it brought, he couldn't deny that he felt something too—something that had grown stronger over time, deepened by the bond they now shared.
Whatever awaited them in the dungeon, whatever challenges they would face, he knew one thing for certain: Valencia wouldn't let him go. Not now. Not ever.
As the glow from the rest floor bathed them in soft light, Michael lay there, his mind churning with thoughts he couldn't quite quiet. Valencia's breath was slow and steady against his chest, her arm still possessively draped over him. Her earlier words echoed in his head, and the weight of her promise to never let him go left an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. But beyond the unease, there was something more—an understanding, a bond they had formed in their darkest moments.
The silence between them was fragile, like a thin thread connecting two opposing forces. Michael found himself staring at the ceiling, replaying their battles, the moments they had fought side by side, the blood they had shed together, and now... the intimacy they had shared.
"I never thought we'd get here," he whispered, more to himself than to her.
Valencia stirred, her fingers gently tracing over his chest as her eyes fluttered open again. "Here? You mean the rest floor? Or…" Her crimson eyes sparkled with something more playful now, the darkness in her earlier words softened but not gone. "Do you mean us?"
Michael exhaled slowly. "Both, I guess. The dungeon. Us. Everything."
Valencia's smile widened, though that dangerous edge still lingered. "Fate brought us here," she whispered. "It was always supposed to be this way. I could feel it the moment I saw you on Earth. You were… different. Even then."
She sat up slightly, her fingers sliding from his chest to his neck, where they lingered for a moment before moving to the blood red sigil that had formed on his skin from the night before—an aftereffect of her feeding. She gently brushed her thumb over it, her gaze intent.
"I marked you, Michael," she murmured, her voice almost reverent. "Do you know what that means?"
Michael swallowed, unsure how to respond. He felt a strange sensation beneath her touch, a pull he couldn't quite define. "What does it mean?"
Valencia's eyes darkened with that possessiveness again, but this time, it wasn't quite as unsettling. "It means you're mine. Not just because of last night. Not just because of what we shared. But because I claimed you, body and soul. No one else can have you. Ever."
Michael felt the air between them grow heavier, her words pressing against him like an invisible force. He wasn't sure if it was her vampiric nature speaking or something deeper, but either way, it was undeniable. The bond between them was no longer just emotional or physical—it was something far more complex.
"And what happens if someone tries to take me?" Michael asked, teasing her.
Valencia's eyes flickered with something dark and primal, her lips curling into a smile that was both playful and dangerous. "I'll destroy them. Whoever it is. Whatever it takes."
For a moment, Michael wasn't sure if she was joking or not. But then again, he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.
He sighed, running a hand through his dark messy hair. "You've changed, Valencia. More than just the vampire thing."
Valencia tilted her head, her gaze still fixed on him. "Have I?"
"Yeah. You're… more intense. More—"
"More devoted," she interrupted, her voice softer now but still carrying that undercurrent of obsession. "Because I know what's at stake now. I've seen what this world can take from us, Michael. I won't let it take you too."
Michael frowned, feeling a strange mixture of emotions swirling inside him. Part of him wanted to push back against her words, against the weight of her possessiveness. But another part of him—the part that had fought through countless monsters and faced death more times than he could count—understood where she was coming from. They had both lost so much already. This world had stripped them down to their very cores, and now all they had left was each other.
"Valencia…" he began, but his voice trailed off as he saw her expression shift.
Her playful smile faded, replaced by something far more serious, more vulnerable. "I'm scared, Michael," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of what this place is doing to me. Of what it might do to us."
The confession caught him off guard. Valencia had always been strong, confident, and unshakable. But now, in this quiet moment, he could see the cracks forming beneath her surface. She was scared—of the dungeon, of losing him, of losing herself.
Michael sat up, gently pulling her into his arms. "We'll get through this," he said, his voice firm despite the doubts gnawing at him. "Together. I'm not going anywhere. No matter what."
Valencia rested her head against his chest, her fingers gripping him tightly. "Promise me," she whispered again, but this time her voice was softer, more fragile. "Promise me you'll stay with me, even if I change. Even if I become something… darker."
Michael hesitated for a moment, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He could feel the darkness creeping into both of them—her transformation into a vampire, his growing connection to death magic. But he couldn't turn back now. They had come too far.
"I promise," he said softly, his hand gently stroking her hair. "No matter what."
For a while, they sat in silence, the soft glow of the rest floor surrounding them like a protective barrier against the horrors that awaited beyond. But even in the quiet, Michael couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. The bond they shared was stronger now, more intense—but it was also more dangerous.
Valencia wasn't the same person she had been when they first entered the dungeon. Neither was he. And as they prepared to descend deeper into the dungeon's depths, Michael couldn't help but wonder what the dungeon would do to them next.