Caralee lay completely naked, sprawled out, and panting, upon the intricately woven area rug, its ornate threads of gold, crimson, and azure meticulously intertwined to create lavish, regal patterns that danced across the cold stone floor. Each fiber gently caressed her bare skin, igniting a cascade of sensation that overwhelmed her senses. Caralee was acutely aware of each and every single one. She felt every silken strand as though thousands of delicate brushes painted her body with invisible strokes of pleasure and sensation, transforming her awareness into vivid splashes of vibrant reality.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, breathy gasps softly echoing in the quiet stillness of the expansive chamber. The ceiling above was high, supported by immense, carved wooden beams, each one richly detailed with swirling designs that caught the flickering glow of candlelight. Slowly, with trembling limbs, Caralee pushed against the ground and attempted to lift the top half of herself upright, her slender fingers sinking into the plush carpet as she gazed around in wide-eyed astonishment.
Everything around her suddenly seemed impossibly sharp, vividly clear as though a thin veil had lifted from her vision. She marveled at the intricate embroidery of the velvet drapes cascading down the towering windows, the dust motes drifting lazily in shimmering streams, illuminated by the warm golden glow. Her eyes lingered briefly upon the silken bedsheets, each thread visible, vibrant, and mesmerizing in their clarity.
A sudden, overpowering sensation surged violently within her, pulsing through her very core. Caralee closed her eyes, attempting to steady her spiraling mind, as an insatiable hunger erupted within, primal and overwhelming.
A tantalizing scent filled her nostrils—a scent both horrifyingly enticing and chillingly familiar. Blood. Her own mingled with others, swirling intoxicatingly through her senses. She inhaled deeply, feeling something gnawing with, like a phantom heartbeat, a deep flutter in her chest that writhed and coiled with longing. Waves of what felt almost like cramps radiated out from her center in waves. The pace began to quicken further, leaving her with an undeniable thirst, an unyielding craving she had never known before.
A profoundly demanding want— no— NEED arose in the forefront of her mind as she closed her eyes to better focus on the singular scent. She could smell blood—and something else. People. More people in the castle. More blood. So much more blood.
An unexpected sharp pain pierced her tongue, wrenching a startled yelp from her throat. Her delicate hand flew instinctively to cover her mouth, eyes wide with shock. Attempting to close her mouth, she inadvertently bit into her lower lip, eliciting another small cry of pain. Fear and confusion surged within her as her fingers urgently explored her teeth, quickly discovering a startling anomaly.
Her fingers traced two pointed, elongated teeth, frighteningly sharp, protruding unnaturally from her upper jaw. Panic sent her mind racing. These had not been there moments ago—she was certain of it. Caralee's thirst thundered against her ribs, her eyes widening further as tears welled within them. Desperately, she tried to wiggle the fangs, hoping irrationally they might loosen or fall away. But they remained deeply embedded, and they cruelly, were indeed real.
"Fangs," she whispered fearfully, her voice barely audible even to herself. "I have fangs. Dear heavens above, how can this be?" A small sob escaped her lips as a hopelessness inched into her subconscious.
Slowly, carefully, she maneuvered her jaw, desperately seeking a comfortable position to rest her newly emerged fangs without piercing her flesh again. Her lower lip trembled as she fought back tears, her mind racing to recall the moments leading to this impossible transformation. It was the blood, she remembered vividly. That alluring, tormenting scent. The very thought caused a dull ache deep within her jaw, intensifying the strange yearning now gnawing persistently at her core.
"Oh my stars," she whimpered softly, clutching her stomach as a sudden wave of nausea struck her sharply, then quickly receded, leaving her shaken and breathless. Panting, she glanced around frantically, desperate to locate Merrick—the one responsible for these terrifying changes, she was certain.
She scanned the room urgently, her head whipping back and forth as tears spilled freely from her frightened eyes. Merrick was nowhere to be seen, his absence magnifying her fear. A ringing in her ears grew louder, drowning out the seductive allure of the blood scent in her mind. Then, abruptly and mercifully, the sharp protrusions retracted, leaving her mouth comfortably familiar once more.
With a small gasp of relief, Caralee cautiously explored her gums again, confirming the blessed absence of those terrifying fangs. She exhaled shakily, taking a moment to steady herself before rising to her knees. The fear of what might provoke their return made her hesitant to breathe deeply, deciding instead on holding her breath as she tentatively climbed to her feet, using the luxurious bed for support.
She cautiously began to take small steps around the edge of the large open room, looking for a door, or window, or at the very least a note, a clue of some sort indicating where she was or something to suggest where Merrick might have gone.
She was unsure of exactly how long she had been writhing in agony on the floor. It felt like days, but likely closer to hours. In all honesty it very well could have been mere minutes. She truly had no way to gauge the time she had spent suffering. All she knew was that at some point he had slipped away, leaving her to possibly die. A chill ran down her spine with that dark thought.
Caralee stood unsteadily, the realization slowly dawned upon her—she had not drawn breath for several minutes. Strangely, she felt no discomfort, no urgency to inhale. Her confusion deepened, only to be abruptly interrupted as Merrick suddenly appeared before her, his presence as startling as it was immediate.
Caralee instinctively recoiled, a surprised gasp escaping her as she reflexively attempted to shield her naked form from his piercing gaze, blushing furiously. In that instant, her lungs filled rapidly with air, the sudden influx bringing with it an unexpected comfort, a deep relief she hadn't realized she craved. The sensation was peculiar, reminiscent of finally yielding to a stubborn habit one tried desperately to resist.
The shock and subsequent realization struck her powerfully once more—she had forgotten entirely the act of breathing itself. Her chest heaved again, panic briefly gripping her, stars beginning to dance at the edges of her vision as dizziness swept through her. She stared pleadingly up at Merrick, the room spinning around his serene yet enigmatic visage.
"Merrick…" she managed to whisper weakly, her voice trembling with confusion and vulnerability, her emerald eyes pleading for understanding and reassurance, as her legs buckled beneath her, strength ebbing rapidly, darkness encroaching upon her vision.
Just as she felt consciousness slipping away, Merrick's strong arms encircled her swiftly, catching her gently before she could collapse. Caralee's last coherent thought was a silent plea for answers as she surrendered unwillingly to the enveloping darkness.