I'm so damn tired. Three whole weeks of waking up at four a.m. to drag myself to the gym. And no, I'm not some fitness nut—it's just this insane workout routine I've been stuck with lately.
Brianne told me to keep my strength under wraps, so here I am, at the gym when the only other soul around is the caretaker. Let's be real: lifting two hundred kilos isn't exactly normal for a kid my age.
I head to my usual spot—a bench tucked in a blind corner, out of view of the cameras. Perfect for hiding my little "secret." I grab the barbell, loaded with two hundred kilos, and start: ten reps per set.
Something feels off. The barbell seems… lighter? Did my body already adapt? I've been training religiously, but I didn't expect results this fast.
Curious—and maybe overconfident—I add more plates, pushing the barbell to two hundred and fifty kilos.
Now this feels right—or maybe not. «Phew… phew…» My breaths come fast as I push through each rep, my arms burning like fire.
«Just… a couple more,» I mutter, teeth clenched. My arms shake under the strain. Come on, Ren. One more… just one more…
«Not bad for a fourteen-year-old,» a voice says behind me, and I freeze. Sweat, cold as ice, drips down my forehead like a waterfall.
I tilt my head back—Then... Miss Isabelle Lazar. Or at least, I think it's her… hard to tell with all that… stuff in the way.
She's in leggings and a top that's way too tight in all the right places. Like she's dressed to invade my dreams—they've been about her for years. Wild, impossible, R-rated dreams.
I knew Miss Lazar worked out—her body isn't marble by accident—but this gym? At this hour? Of all places? I didn't even hear her sneak up on me! Bad luck—or good, depending on how you see it. Any other day, if she'd talked to me, I'd mark it on my mental calendar and celebrate every year. But no, this is the worst possible moment.
Suddenly, all my strength vanishes. My arms go limp, and the barbell crashes toward my chest. It's going to crush me—until Isabelle, with one arm, catches it mid-fall. Like it's weightless.
I blink, stunned. Her strength… her reflexes… is this a dream? Another erotic one starring her? But I feel so awake. Could this be one of those hyper-realistic lucid dreams?
At that thought, an erection is inevitable, the bulge obvious through my light shorts. She smiles briefly, her gaze flickering to it, but she doesn't react. I mean, what interest could a thirty-year-old have in a fourteen-year-old? None.
Am I seriously thinking dirty thoughts after watching her lift two hundred and fifty kilos like it's nothing? Who the hell is this woman?
«You're Ren Volkom, from the third floor, right?» she asks, dropping the barbell like it's a pillow.
«Y-Yeah...» I stammer, my face burning. «You're Miss Lazar, right? We've probably crossed paths on the stairs.» I try to sound cool, not like some creepy stalker.
«No need to be formal,» she says, her voice softer now. «Call me Isabelle.» She smiles faintly. «Judging by your reaction, I'm more than just 'the woman on the stairs.' And those eyes of yours? Full of desire…»
Crap. Busted. I freeze, my brain panicking. But… wait. She doesn't seem mad. At all. She's actually enjoying this.
«I mean… in my defense, any guy would want you. Probably some women too…» I blurt, remembering what Clare said at the spa about Isabelle.
«You've got nothing to be ashamed of, Ren Volkom…» she murmurs, her voice laced with seduction. Before I can react, Isabelle steps closer and straddles my lap.
This… this can't be real. Her firm curves press against me, and I'm one heartbeat away from losing my mind.
«I know why you want me so much, Ren,» she whispers. Her fingers trail along my jaw, deliberate and soft, sending shivers down my spine. «Come with me.»
Her hand slips into mine, and before I realize it, she's leading me to the men's changing room. It's completely empty—of course.
Then it happens. With movements so fluid they seem unreal, Isabelle slides off her leggings and top. My brain short-circuits as the fabric hits the floor. She's… not wearing anything underneath.
Oh. My. God.
She stands there, naked, like a masterpiece come to life. Her full, perfect breasts leave me breathless. Her hips curve like an artist's dream, and her flawless buttocks could make angels cry. My gaze drifts lower, to the delicate red hair framing her most intimate area. No doubt—I'm the luckiest guy alive right now.
«Are you just going to stand there gawking all day?» she teases, curling a finger at me as she turns on the shower. Water cascades over her, tracing every perfect curve.
Shaking off my hesitation, I strip down faster than I thought possible. Shirt, pants, underwear—gone in seconds. Now I'm as naked as she is, my erection impossible to ignore.
My legs feel like jelly as I take a shaky step toward her, my whole body trembling with nerves and exhilaration. My stomach knots tighter with every unsteady breath. Is this real? It can't be. Isabelle's superhuman strength… This has to be a dream. If it is, I can't waste a second. The alarm could pull me back to reality any moment. I need to make the most of this absurd fantasy.
As I step under the shower, she grabs my arms with surprising strength, pulling me toward her. Her back hits the tiled wall and her bare breasts press into my chest.
With a flick of her head, she sweeps her wet hair over her shoulder, exposing the curve of her neck. Does she want me to kiss her there?
My brain scrambles, panic setting in. I've never done this before—hell, not even close. How am I supposed to know what she wants? I take a shaky shot in the dark, hesitantly sticking out my tongue. Lick her neck, right? That's what they do in movies, isn't it?
Before I can even get close, her hand clamps over my mouth. «That's not what I want, Ren Volkom,» she murmurs.
Crap. We haven't even started, and I've messed up! But if that's not what she wants… then what does she want?
My confusion grows as I meet her gaze. Her eyes—normally brown—now glow an intense, unsettling red. A shiver races down my spine as her lips curl into a smile, revealing sharp, predatory canines.
The overwhelming excitement from moments ago fades, replaced by creeping dread. My heart pounds—not with desire now, but fear.
Her eyes. Her teeth. There's no doubt—she's a Blood Crystalbringer! But… that doesn't make sense. Brianne said the first Crystalbringers appeared only twenty years ago. Isabelle's over thirty—how is this possible?
«Do you know what I want, Ren?» Her voice drops, sultry and unnerving.
The answer is obvious. «Well… yeah. But I fed a few days ago. I'm fine, I swear! I don't feel the need right now—really!»
The words barely leave my mouth when sharp, excruciating pain blooms in my hips. Her nails dig into my flesh, pulling me closer until there's no space between us.
«You've realized by now that I possess the Blood Crystal too,» she whispers. «Trust me, Ren. Let go. Follow your instincts… and you'll gain strength beyond imagination.»
Strength beyond imagination?
Her image flashes in my mind—lifting that monstrous weight with one hand like it was nothing, while I struggled just to stop it from crushing me. She's not just strong; she's something far beyond. Her mastery of the crystal is leagues ahead of mine.
I clench my fists as her words echo: strength. Power beyond anything I can imagine.
This is my chance—my one shot to stop being dead weight.
«Alright!» I say, swallowing hard. «Let's do it!»
The moment my teeth sink into her neck, a wildfire ignites, burning through every nerve, every vein. My muscles scream under the pressure, pulling so tight they feel ready to snap—like tearing apart from the inside. Pain? It's there, white-hot and relentless. But strength—impossible, intoxicating strength—drowns it out. Her blood unleashes something primal, something I didn't know was caged inside me.
No. I'm not myself. My hands move, but they're not mine. I watch as my fingers claim her breasts, squeezing their full, impossible softness. They spill through my grasp—too big, too perfect.
My erection throbs, grinding against her, slipping between her thighs as her wetness mingles with the shower's spray.
Blood flows—hot and endless—cascading from her neck and over our bodies, painting us red as the shower water fails to wash it away. Her hand tangles in my hair, firm and insistent, then pushes hard. My teeth sink deeper, tearing into her flesh. My mouth fills with her—muscle and skin giving way—but she doesn't stop me.
The water carries away grotesque, crimson chunks, yet it's like witnessing a miracle: her body rebuilds itself, skin knitting together faster than I can tear it apart.
Is this what Clare meant? The Blood Crystalbringer's regeneration? It's maddening, unbelievable. My wounds take hours—an entire night—to heal, but she rebuilds herself in seconds.
I've never seen anything like it. I need it—her power, her strength. I want it all. If her blood is the key, if she holds the answer… I'll do whatever it takes. Whatever she wants. Anything.
Because right now, as I ravage her neck and press against her heat, all I can think about is how incredible this feels. How unstoppable I could become.
«Now it's my turn… My blood should have made you strong enough to handle this,» she murmurs. I barely process her words before I feel it—her sharp canines sink into my neck.
A shiver tears through me. We're biting each other now, our bodies pressed so tightly it's impossible to tell where she ends and I begin. Her thighs press against mine, hot and slick, as our most intimate parts grind together in a rhythm that feels… wrong. Twisted. Like we're trapped in some dark, depraved ecstasy.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears—God, what is this? This can't be real. This can't be happening.
Shit, what am I doing?!
A flicker of lucidity hits like a slap, and I stumble back, breaking free. I stagger a few steps, my chest heaving like I've run miles. My whole body shakes—not with desire now, but with gut-twisting fear I can't explain.
My irises fade back to their normal color, the unnatural red disappearing. My canines retreat, leaving only my trembling lips.
«W-what happened?» I stammer, the words spilling out between gasps.
She doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she lingers under the shower, unhurried and calm, as if everything that just happened was normal. The last streaks of blood swirl down her body.
After a moment, she finally speaks: «You've become a true Blood Crystalbringer, Ren. That's all.»
«What the hell does that mean?! Explain yourself!» My voice cracks, a mix of terror and anger.
«My blood has entered your veins,» she says, stepping forward. «It has drastically increased your strength and given you better control over Blood Rage. Consider it your blood baptism. But don't get too excited.» She pauses, her tone teasing as she leans against the slick wall. «It's only temporary. In a month, your body will purge my blood completely. You'll go back to being as weak as before… but»—her eyes glinting as she winks—«when that happens, you know where to find me.»