Page 27 of Viktor’s Temptation (East Coast Territory #2)

“What did you do with the bodies?” Charlie asked, his voice tight with barely controlled fury as he stood next to Dave, the vampire who had turned him into this…monster!

Dave shrugged with an air of indifference.

“After they’re burned beyond recognition, I toss the remains into a dumpster, an old warehouse, or an abandoned building.

Sometimes I make sure they end up where a garbage truck will collect them quickly.

” He turned away from the eight charred corpses piled against the wall. “They’re of no use to me now.”

Charlie stared at the shorter vampire, his fists clenching at his sides as anger bubbled to the surface.

They’re of no use? These were people! Human beings with lives, families, friends!

His lips curled in disgust as his gaze swept over the pile of blackened, shriveled bodies, a sickening smell of burned flesh lingering in the air.

His stomach churned, and his mouth watered—not with hunger, but with nausea.

He hadn’t asked for this. He hadn’t wanted this.

His entire body felt wrong, like it didn’t belong to him anymore.

Pain shot through his muscles, his bones, even his skin—a constant, relentless slide of needles under his skin that reminded him of the horrific transition he’d endured.

Torture. That’s what it had been. Pure, unadulterated torture.

Charlie’s life before this nightmare felt like a distant dream.

He had been content. Maybe not thrilled with everything, but content.

He had loved his quiet life. By day, he worked as a computer programmer, developing elegant code to solve complex problems. It was a job that required focus and patience, two qualities he had always prided himself on.

Every evening and on the weekends, he’d indulged in his hobbies—a gardener who nurtured roses and hydrangeas in his backyard, a dog lover who spent weekends at the park with his golden retriever, Max.

His house was small but cozy, filled with sunlight and the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee.

What would happen to Max now? The thought hit him like a punch to the gut.

He hadn’t been home in weeks. His dog had been left alone.

Was Max even alive? Was someone feeding him?

Taking care of him? His fists tightened further as he imagined Max sitting by the door, waiting for him, whining for a return that might never happen.

And now? Now he was this... thing. A creature that had to drink blood to survive.

The very idea made his stomach churn. The act of feeding was disgusting, violent, primal.

Yet, here he was. He had fed. And worse, he had liked it.

The sensation of blood coursing down his throat had been intoxicating, almost euphoric.

He had drained every drop from those poor people.

The memory of their lifeless bodies haunted him, their faces frozen in terror, their skin pale and slack.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Dave called over his shoulder, already halfway to the door.

Charlie swallowed back his rising anger, his voice louder this time. “I said, I didn’t ask for this.”

Dave turned, one eyebrow raised. “None of them did, kid,” he replied, jerking a thumb at the bodies. “But look at you now. Faster, stronger, immortal. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” Charlie’s voice cracked as the anger inside him exploded. “You killed them! You killed me! My life is over because of you!”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Oh, boo-hoo. Your life wasn’t anything special, was it? Sitting in front of a computer all day? Playing with flowers in the dirt? Get over it. You’ve been given a gift.”

“A gift?” Charlie took a step forward, his fists trembling with the urge to punch Dave’s smug face. “A gift? I don’t want this. I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t want to... to drink blood!” His voice broke, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I just want my life back.”

Dave’s face darkened, his smirk replaced with a sneer. “You don’t get a life back, kid. Not unless you make it for yourself. You’re one of us now, you’re owned by me and Cerberus, so quit whining and figure it out. Or don’t. Honestly, I don’t care.”

Charlie’s teeth clenched as he tried to keep the rage inside him from boiling over.

He didn’t know what he hated more: Dave’s casual dismissal of the lives he’d destroyed, or the fact that some twisted part of him agreed with Dave.

He didn’t have a choice. He had to figure this out—how to live, how to survive, how to endure this new reality. And who the hell was Cerberus?

“Come with me,” Dave barked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Charlie hesitated, glancing back at the lifeless bodies, their vacant eyes seeming to stare at him accusingly.

His stomach turned again, but he followed Dave.

What else could he do? He didn’t know how to be this.

.. monster. He didn’t know how to survive without guidance, no matter how repulsive the source.

As he walked, the faint coppery taste of blood still lingered in his mouth, making his stomach twist with both revulsion and a sickening pang of hunger. Is this who I am now? He bit down on the wave of self-loathing, determined not to let Dave see how broken he felt.

For now, he’d follow. But he promised himself: this wasn’t the end of his story. This wasn’t who he’d become.