Bride Of The Night

Chapter 7

### **Chapter 7: The Beast Within**

Lana's body was on fire.

Every muscle trembled with the effort of restraint. Her veins burned with the need to hunt, to feed, to taste blood. The air was thick with it—an intoxicating scent that clouded her mind, and made her forget everything else. She could hear it, too: the steady pulse of life, the soft thrum of blood moving through veins. It was out there, somewhere, just waiting to be claimed.

She could feel Ian beside her, tense, but she didn't care. She had to move. She had to run.

Lana barely registered the words that Ian said, his hand still gripping her wrist as if he could hold her back.

"No, Lana," he said, his voice sharp, commanding. "You're not ready."

But she didn't hear him. She didn't care.

With a force she didn't know she had, Lana jerked her arm free from his grip, her nails elongating instinctively. A flash of her new self surged through her, and in that moment, she understood the full weight of what she had become. She was no longer just a girl, just a student. She was something far more dangerous.

"I *need* this," she whispered to herself, her breath coming fast and shallow. "I need to feed."

Her senses sharpened, and everything around her came into focus. The cool night air, the rustling of the leaves, the distant sound of footsteps—everything seemed to intensify, as if the world itself were a symphony of sensations, just waiting for her to claim it.

Ian's voice was fading, his presence becoming a distant murmur in the back of her mind. She was too far gone now, the hunger flooding her senses.

"Lana, stop!" Ian's voice broke through her thoughts, but it barely made an impact. "Listen to me! You're not just hunting—you're *losing yourself*!"

But it didn't matter.

The world around her blurred as she stepped forward, her instincts taking over. The shadows beneath the trees beckoned her, the scent of prey more intoxicating than any drug. A human, a young man by the smell of it, was stumbling through the woods not far ahead. His pulse was loud, frantic, and filled with fear.

And that fear was the final trigger.

Lana moved.

In a blur of motion, she darted through the underbrush, faster than she had ever moved before. Her body was a weapon, sleek and lethal, her fangs extended, her eyes glowing with the hunger that consumed her. She was no longer the frightened girl she had once been. The power was in her, coursing through her veins, transforming her into something primal, something far more dangerous than the girl who had once walked the streets of the human world.

She reached the man in seconds, her body colliding with his in a whirl of motion, her fangs sinking into his neck before he even had time to scream.

The taste of blood flooded her senses, hot and intoxicating. It was pure ecstasy, a high like nothing she had ever experienced. She had fed before, yes—but this? This was different. This was *everything.* This was what she had been craving all along.

The man's heartbeat was slowing, his body going limp in her arms as she drained him, her mind blurring into a haze of pleasure and power. His blood was warm, rich, and each drop sent waves of satisfaction crashing over her.

But it wasn't enough.

Nothing would ever be enough.

She felt the pull, that need to consume more. It was insatiable, an endless abyss that would never be filled.

It was only when she felt the tug of the bond with Morpheus that she snapped back into herself. His presence—cold, ancient, powerful—brushed against her mind, a whisper in the darkness. She felt it, felt him, and for the first time since she had started feeding, she felt a pang of guilt.

What was she becoming?

Lana let go of the man's neck, her fangs retracting. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless. His body was cold, his blood now staining her lips, her chin, her hands.

Her breath was ragged, her eyes wild, and as she stepped back, her entire body trembling, she realized something—something terrifying.

She didn't feel *guilty.* She felt *empty.*

The hunger was still there, still gnawing at her from the inside. It was never enough. She could never have enough.

"What have I done?" she whispered to herself, her voice shaky.

The sound of footsteps reached her ears, and she turned, her eyes still wild with the frenzy of the feed. Ian was there, stepping into the clearing, his expression torn between concern and frustration.

"Lana," he said, his voice softer now, though still filled with an undercurrent of tension. "You need to stop. You're not in control anymore."

Lana's hands shook at her sides, her breath coming faster as the weight of what she had done finally began to hit her. "I couldn't help it. The hunger—it's too much. I need more. Always more."

Ian moved toward her, slowly, cautiously, as if he were afraid she might lash out. He was right to be. She wasn't sure if she could control herself anymore. She had fed, and now there was nothing but emptiness.

"You're not a monster, Lana," Ian said, his voice steady, though his eyes held the flicker of fear. "But you're losing yourself."

Lana looked down at the body on the ground, the lifeless form of the man she had just drained. She had destroyed him. She had taken his life without a second thought. She felt sick, but at the same time, she felt... nothing.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice low, barely above a whisper. "I *need* this. I don't know how to stop it. I can't. I *can't* control it, Ian."

Ian's expression softened, his gaze full of something close to pity. "You can control it. But you have to want to. You have to *choose* to fight it."

Lana's eyes snapped up to meet his, her breath quickening. "How? How do I fight it? How do I stop this?"

Ian stepped closer, his voice gentle now, almost like he was speaking to a child. "It's not about stopping it. It's about understanding it. You've been turned into something else, Lana. Something different. But you're still you. You can control the hunger. You can learn to feed without killing. But you have to trust yourself."

Lana swallowed hard, but the gnawing emptiness inside of her didn't lessen. It couldn't. She had tasted blood. She had felt the power it gave her, and nothing could undo that. She wasn't sure who she was anymore. She wasn't sure if she ever could be.

Before she could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"You've fed," Morpheus's voice echoed through the night, rich and commanding.

Lana's heart—or what was left of it—skipped. The bond between them flared to life, like a pulse in her chest, calling her to him.

Morpheus stepped out from the shadows, his tall, imposing figure framed by the moonlight. His eyes locked with hers, violet and deep, as if he could see into the very core of her.

"You've taken your first step," he said, his voice low and thick with meaning. "Now we see what you are truly made of."

Lana felt the weight of his gaze, the heat of his presence. The bond between them pulsed in time with her erratic heartbeat. She felt *something* inside of her stir, something darker than before.

And it terrified her.

"You've tasted the hunger," Morpheus continued. "Now, you must learn to master it—or it will master you."

Lana's breath caught in her throat. The hunger inside of her, the darkness, it was far from gone. In fact, it was just beginning.

She had crossed a line, and there was no going back.

But was she strong enough to control it? To master the beast within?

For the first time, Lana wasn't sure.

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