Page 24 of Viktor’s Temptation (East Coast Territory #2)

The room was a picture of filth and despair, constructed from cinderblocks stained with decades of grime and neglect.

The dim, flickering fluorescent light overhead cast a sickly yellow glow, making the rusty chains bolted to the walls gleam faintly.

Shackles dangled from the ends of those chains, their edges jagged with corrosion, while dark streaks—dried blood or something equally ominous—marked the walls beneath them.

The air was thick and damp, carrying the metallic tang of rust and the faint but unmistakable stench of rot.

Beyond the chamber, a shadowy corridor stretched into darkness, where the only sound was the faint drip of water echoing in the distance.

Dave stood in the center of it all, surveying the writhing mass of bodies before him.

Nine humans, shackled and contorted in ways their bodies weren’t meant to endure, moaned and screamed in agony.

Their tortured cries echoed off the walls, blending into a chaotic symphony of pain.

Dave reveled in it. This… this was ecstasy.

The power, the suffering, the primal fear radiating off of them—it was intoxicating. He didn’t just enjoy it. He savored it.

Why hadn’t he thought to do this before?

This… this was glorious. The cacophony of torment surrounding him was like a drug, heightening his senses, his arousal, his delight.

He grinned as he imagined his future: ignoring Cerberus and overthrowing Viktor by himself, taking his rightful place as ruler, and having every human and vampire at his feet.

And the women—oh, the women—would be his to command, his to enjoy.

Viktor’s “rules” would mean nothing when Dave was in charge.

A woman’s shriek pierced through his thoughts, snapping his attention to her. She was screaming for help, reaching out as if her pitiful cries would compel him to save her. He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “No,” he muttered, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

“Blood!” a hoarse, ragged voice croaked, cutting through the din and catching Dave’s ear. He turned toward the sound, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.

One of the shackled figures, a man dangling from the chains, had gone still. His sunken, bloodshot eyes fixed on Dave with a new intensity. The still-writhing man’s lips, cracked and pale, moved again. “Blood.”

Dave leaned in, his grin widening as he reached for the man’s face, forcing one eyelid open. The iris, once vibrant, was now dull and grey—an unmistakable sign. “Your eyes,” Dave murmured, delighted, “they’ve changed.” He straightened, beaming with triumph. “It worked! Finally!”

He grabbed the next victim in the row of shackles, shoving the limp figure toward the transformed man. “Feed,” Dave ordered, gesturing to the still-living body. He didn’t bother unlocking the new vampire. If the transformation had taken, the man would have the strength to free himself.

Sure enough, the transformed man growled, his strength surging as he ripped the chains from the cinderblock wall with a sickening crack.

Rusty shackles still dangled from his wrists as he lunged for the offered body, sinking his new, untrained fangs into the flesh with a clumsy ferocity.

Blood spilled onto the floor, adding to the already revolting scene.

Dave clapped his hands, his delight palpable. “Go to town, my friend,” he crowed, his laughter echoing through the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” a voice barked from the doorway.

Dave turned, his grin faltering slightly as Johnny stepped into the room. The younger man’s expression was one of barely concealed disgust as he surveyed the scene. His lips curled in revulsion when his eyes landed on Dave.

Johnny took a step closer, his boots crunching on a dark, unidentifiable stain on the floor. “This is sick,” he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. “But you’re actually enjoying this?”

Dave smirked, unconcerned. “What can I say? I think of it as a work of art.”

Johnny’s eyes swept over the writhing, broken bodies, then landed on the feeding vampire. The man’s shoulders tensed visibly. “You’ve lost it, Dave. This isn’t training an army. This is... whatever the hell this is.” He gestured vaguely at Dave’s obvious arousal, his expression twisting further.

Dave laughed. “Don’t act like you’re so pure. You’re only here because some girl rejected you, and you’re hoping to make her sorry.”

“At least my motives make sense,” Johnny snapped. He looked away, disgust written all over his face. “And let’s not pretend you’re doing this for some noble cause. Why are you even working for Cerberus?”

Dave shrugged lazily, leaning against the blood-streaked wall.

“Maybe I just needed something to do,” he said, his tone light.

“Or maybe I just hate Viktor. He’s such a stick in the mud.

Never lets anyone have any fun.” Then he laughed.

“Or maybe, because Cerberus pays me an enormous amount of money.”

Johnny turned away, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath. “You’re a psycho.”

Dave grinned. “That’s why it works, Johnny boy. That’s why it works.”

The room seemed to pulse with the weight of their shared animosity, the air thick with the stench of death and the echoes of suffering.