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I reach for the darkness within him with my mind, with my blood, with my body. Trying to find the man beneath the monster, to give him an anchor against whatever compulsion Dmitri has placed upon him.

“I’m here,” I breathe against his mouth. “Stay with me, Victor. Fight it.”

His response is physical rather than verbal—a growl rumbling through his chest as he lifts me, carrying me to the bed with inhuman strength. I go willingly, understanding what needs to happen. The blood exchange we shared before helped integrate his dual natures, helped him find balance. Perhaps it can do so again.

But that might have to wait.

Everything happens so fast.

His body crashes down on mine, pinning me to the mattress with bruising force. His hunger is feral, unrestrained—a beast breaking through the surface. He tears at my clothes, ripping them away in frantic shreds, as if he can’t get to me quick enough.

I pull the remains of his shirt over his head. He grabs my wrists, slamming them above my head with a snarl that vibrates through every nerve. The sound is brutal; I answer it with one of my own, knees coming up to brace against his sides. He’s still Callahan somewhere under this wildness. I need to find that part of him again, draw it out.

“Victor,” I gasp, arching into him as he presses hard between my thighs, bigger than ever.

He thrusts into me in a single brutal stroke, and I cry out from the shock and the pain and the pleasure of it—all consuming, all at once. It’s not sensual or even respectful. It’s demanding and claiming and violent. But it’s him—raw and burning with need—and that makes it what I want more than anything.

“Stay with me,” I whisper, nails running down his back, holding on to the side of him that I know is just beneath the surface.

But soon the world narrows to nothing but sensation. The bed shakes beneath us as we move together, driven by instinct and desperation. Every motion is an explosion, tearing through me until there’s nothing left but fire and breathlessness and the pounding of my pulse in my ears.

He shifts his grip on my wrists, pinning them with one powerful hand while the other closes around my hip, angling me for deeper penetration. His fangs graze my neck—not quite biting but enough to send electricity skittering over my skin.

The threat of those teeth only intensifies the moment. If he takes too much blood while he’s like this…I push the thought away, focusing instead on holding his gaze. His eyes are still crimson with madness, but there’s a flicker there now—a hint of recognition amidst the chaos.

I’m reaching him.

I tighten around him, pulling him deeper inside me as if sheer physicality can bring him back from wherever Dmitri has sent him spiraling.

“Yes,” I urge breathlessly. “Just like that. Keep fucking me like that.”

He snarls in response, driving harder. He might just break another bed.

Time for him to feed.

I move my head to the side, exposing my neck. “Take it, Victor. It’s yours.”

His low growl fills the room, makes the mattress vibrate.

Oh my, he’s hungry.

His breath is hot against my skin, fangs hovering as if he’s barely holding himself back. My pulse is a drum against his lips—a siren’s call that he can’t resist. He bites down, and the pain is bright and blinding, white-hot pleasure following in its wake.

The world drops away. There is only his mouth at my throat, his body inside mine. The pull of blood from my veins is dizzying, every draw matched by the force of his thrusts. I weave my legs around him, urging him on even as I feel myself start to weaken.

A low growl vibrates against my neck. He should stop soon—needs to stop—but I know he won’t until it’s almost too late. It’s madness to let him go this far, but I don’t care. Not when it feels like this, like we’re dissolving into each other beyond thought or caution.

He moves faster now, drinking deeper, and the room spins around me. My heart thunders in time with his movements; sensation blurs into a single ecstatic blur. His grip on my wrists tightens painfully, but I’m beyond feeling anything except him—every part of him consuming every part of me.

“Victor,” I gasp again, or maybe I only think I do.

Everything crescendos at once—the sharp heat in my veins, the shattering release as we both come together violently. It rips through me with the force of a tidal wave, drowning awareness in its wake.

He jerks back from my neck with a ragged snarl, shuddering above me, dripping blood as he spills inside me. For a moment, he’s utterly still; then he collapses forward, burying his face in my shoulder like a man who’s just run for miles. His weight crushes me into the mattress—I’m weak beneath him, barely able to catch my breath—but I don’t mind. The fierceness is gone from his embrace now; his hold on me is possessive but not bruising.

Slowly, achingly slowly, the world comes back into focus. The room seems impossibly quiet after the chaos—just the sound of our breathing and the distant crash of waves beyond the window.

I shift beneath him experimentally and feel a slight easing of pressure around my ribs as he rolls us onto our sides without breaking contact. His eyes meet mine in the half-light; they’re no longer red but dark and wide and full of something I can’t quite read.