Chapter 3

Sebastian POV

I didn’t expect touching him to feel like that.

My fingers brushed his jaw when I moved a stray piece of his silver hair from his face. He took a sharp breath, a sound that went right through me in a way I didn’t expect. His red eyes looked at me, sharp and seeing everything, and a shiver went through his body. A tiny tremor passed through him, so small but clear, and I stopped. My hand hung in the air, unsure whether to pull back or reach further, until a warmth in my palm made me move closer.

“Reed,” I whispered, so quiet I could barely hear myself, my voice sounding rough in the silent apartment. “It’s… it’s okay.”

He leaned a little towards my touch. Not completely, not yet, but enough to send a jolt through me. My heart pounded; every part of me felt awake and raw. I had imagined feeding him in a strange, abstract way, picturing the odd, unseen energy the seller talked about, but the reality was instant, felt deep in my body, and was undeniably exciting.

His body, though thin and graceful, felt hot. Not like normal human warmth, but like a flowing energy that seeped into me with even the slightest touch. Every bit of skin touching skin sent a shiver through both of us, and I realized then that this wasn't a one-sided thing. Reed's need was active, he wanted something. Yet, it was quiet, held back—like a graceful hunter ready to pounce, waiting for a permission I didn’t know I could give.

I swallowed. “Do you… need me?” My voice shook. I wasn’t sure if I was asking a question or admitting I wanted him.

Reed didn’t answer with words. He didn’t need to. A soft hum came from him, a vibration I could barely feel at first, but it buzzed against my fingertips. His eyes seemed to soften a little, the deep red turning to a warmer glow, but the strong feeling was still there. He was alive in a way that made me feel alive, in ways I hadn’t realized I was missing so much.

I gently guided him to the couch, moving carefully. His head rested on my shoulder, leaning into me as if the world had finally become a safe place. I was supposed to be in charge, the one in control, the one giving him stability—but in that moment, control didn’t seem important. Reed’s need was like a magnet, pulling me in, making me feel a strange mix of nervousness and excitement.

My hands moved almost on their own, stroking his arms, running through the silver threads of his hair. He shivered again, deeper this time, his lips parting slightly. I could feel the energy pulsing from him, a hunger not for food, but for me, for the closeness, the comfort, the intimacy of shared warmth. I had thought I was getting a companion. Instead, I had gotten something living, something that wanted more than just attention—something that was drawing me in completely, even as I tried to care for him.

And I couldn't stop myself.

Hours passed in quiet discovery, marked only by the soft sound of his breathing and the occasional soft sound he made when I held him just right. I learned the subtle ways his body reacted—how just a touch on his collarbone made him lean closer, how a gentle brush of his wrist made him gasp. Each reaction was a confirmation, a message that I was doing something right, even if I had no idea what I was doing.

It was intoxicating.

At one point, I found myself staring at his lips, so full, so pale, so perfectly formed. My hands stopped moving, hanging in the air like a painter unsure of his next stroke. He met my eyes then, and I felt a tightness in my chest, strong and insistent. It was hunger—not just his, but mine too. The kind of hunger I thought I had hidden away with my quiet routines and my decision to be alone.

“Reed,” I murmured, my voice shaking. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, and I felt the weight of his need pushing into me, strong but silent. My mind spun with a confusing mix of fear, wanting, and wonder. Here was a being made to obey, to be a companion, and yet the connection between us was changing, unpredictable, dangerously intimate. I was supposed to be in charge, but instead, I felt myself being pulled into his world.

The apartment seemed to react. The lights flickered softly as he moved closer. Shadows grew deeper in the corners, and I could have sworn the air itself vibrated with his presence. A neighbor’s light turned on across the hall, and I heard a quiet cough outside the window. Reed didn’t notice—he was focused only on me, on this small, gentle sharing of touch and presence that had become everything. It was as if the outside world had disappeared.

I realized I was holding him in my lap now, one hand in his hair, the other on his back. He had settled against me completely, his body relaxed but still buzzing with hidden energy. I could feel the soft beat under my fingers, a rhythm that made my blood rush and my thoughts scatter.

“Does it… always feel like this?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure what I was asking. The words sounded silly, even to me, but the tremble in my voice showed how deeply I was affected.

He didn’t make a sound in reply, but a faint vibration ran through his chest when I moved closer. His red eyes glowed softly in the dim room, more intense now, and I felt it in my entire body—the hunger, the need, the dependence. It was a lot to take in, and yet I couldn’t pull away.

The understanding settled deep inside me: this was no longer just casual. This was not some fake companionship. He was alive, aware, and completely reliant on me. And in that reliance, I felt a thrill that was both scary and exciting.

I leaned down, careful not to be too fast, and brushed my lips against the top of his head. He shivered sharply, a small gasp escaping him that was both natural and urgent. My own pulse shot up, and I realized then that the "feeding" the seller had mentioned was more than just a word. It was physical, emotional, and somehow, completely consuming.

I whispered his name again: “Reed…”

The word felt not enough, silly, fragile compared to what we were becoming. But he responded in a small way—by pressing closer, his cheek against mine, his body warming mine with a heat that was both strange and perfect.

I had expected the night to be long, quiet, and clinical. Instead, it had become a moment of waking up, not just for him, but for me too. I felt the pull of him, the exciting tension of being close, the slow warmth of wanting that I could no longer ignore. Every movement, every soft sound he made, every shiver he had pulled me further into him, until I wasn’t just in charge—I was a part of the hunger too, caught in the force of something I barely understood.

Hours later, when I finally lay back on the couch, tired and buzzing with excitement, Reed resting against me with his red eyes glowing softly in the dark, I understood the danger of what had started. This was not a normal connection. This was something alive, powerful, and completely all-consuming.

I ran my fingers through his hair, moving strands away from his face. He turned his head towards me, his eyes meeting mine with a dangerous, unsaid promise. My chest tightened, and my mind raced with the knowledge that the bond we had started was no longer casual. It was alive. And it was demanding.