PROJECT GENESIS ENTRY #0535

Subject 32’s health has reverted to peak condition, mirroring the state prior to decline. The only significant deviation in routine or diet was the consumption of blood during the staff attack.

Neurological damage to the ventromedial prefrontal cortex remains progressive and has not reversed.

Further testing will focus on Compound Genesis reactions to hematic fluid. 

I woke up to four gray walls and fluorescent lighting. A Bulwark holding cell. My mind caught up a second later—IDUN Labs. Compound-SB. Wren.

My hand went to my shoulder, fingertips tracing the phantom ache through my shirt. Then to my mouth. Trembling fingers brushed over my teeth, catching on something sharp. Fangs.

Wren sired me.

That shouldn’t have been possible. Genesis vampires—Bloodfeds and Ferals—couldn’t turn others. The disease didn’t spread through a simple bite. It required the Genesis Serum. That was the rule. The science. But here I was, proof that something had changed. Songbird vampires could sire.

Footsteps. A beep at the scanner. The door unlocked.

Atash strolled in, casual as ever. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Where’s Wren?” My voice was raw, unsteady. I pushed off the medical bed, gripping the footboard to ground myself.

“In a holding room,” he said, hands resting on the front of his vest. “Hunters are trying to get information out of her.”

“They’re not hurting her?”

“Bulwark doesn’t do that. You know that.” His brows pulled together, like I’d offended him by asking.

“She sired,” I said, swallowing hard.

“You don’t say?” His voice was flat.

“I need to see her.”

“You can’t. Not anymore.”

“She’s a biological breakthrough.” I took a step closer. “Please.”

His gaze flickered, but I wasn’t watching his eyes anymore. My focus had dropped to his neck, to the bandage covering the bite I left. My jaw clenched.

“You weren’t infected?” I asked.

“Lycoris vamps can’t sire. Same as Genesis vamps. Seems it’s only Songbird vampires.”

“Lycoris?”

“Like the flower.” He gestured to my shoulder. “Erebus thought it was fitting.”

I pulled my shirt aside. The wound had scarred over, dark red veins branching out like roots beneath my skin. It did look like a flower. A spider lily. A death omen for the end of my old life.

“They ran tests while you were out,” Atash said. “You’re biologically identical to the Songbird vamp. Even UV doesn’t burn you. But the biggest external difference they found is that you still have melanin, like a human.”

Not quite human, not quite Genesis or Songbird. Lycoris. 

“On to the other news. Your healing is on another level. Though it didn’t help with that mark. It is obviously not spreading anymore and healed but vampirism is supposed to rid of scars.”

My fingers traced the scar’s jagged edges. A permanent reminder.

“Please,” I tried again. “Let me see her.”

“No.”

“Is there anything you can do for me?”

“I’m sorry our accommodations for vampiric prisoners aren’t up to your standards.” His tone turned mocking. “Would you like a sandwich? A glass of water? Blood?”

My lips parted at the word. Instinctively, my eyes dropped to his throat.

Atash caught it. His stance shifted, back straightening, arms crossing over his chest.

“I can get you a blood bag,” he said. “They’d prefer you focused for questioning anyway.”

“I don’t want that.” The memory of his blood still lingered on my tongue—warm, sweet, intoxicating. My mouth began to salivate at the thought.

“Act One of the VH Accord: vampires cannot drink directly from the human suppressants… No drinking from the tap.”

I dragged my gaze away.

“You don’t breach protocol,” he reminded me as he smiled in a rather patronizing manner.

I exhaled. “I’ve breached protocol.”

“Once.” 

“I lied to get on the list to become a Hunter,” I said. “I wasn’t a biochemistry professor. I was a middle school science teaching assistant.”

Atash’s head tilted, his smile more confusion than humor. “What?”

“I have a biochemistry degree, but I lied about my experience. And I’ve been pocketing Scarlet Wood for months as a sweeper. I wanted to see if I could synthesize a stronger version.”

He laughed. A full-bodied, genuine laugh. It did nothing to ease me. The words just kept spilling out as he turned for the door.

“I could tell you weren’t scared when I bit you.” My voice came out rushed, desperate. It stopped him mid-step. “You’ve been a blood bag before, haven’t you?”

There it is, I mused to myself as his pulse kicked up.

“You have,” I said, grinning, my eyes betraying my excitement.

“This is pathetic, even for you.” His voice was steady, but the way he exhaled gave him away. “I don’t need enhanced senses to feel the desperation dripping from you.”

He was right. I was desperate to say anything to keep my prey here longer.

“You thought I was going to kiss you,” I said.

His stance shifted. “Excuse me?”

“When you thought I was dying. You thought I was going to kiss you.”

“Maybe.”

“And you were going to let me.”

His brows lifted, but there was no defensiveness, no denial. His heartbeat slowed as he composed himself. “If that’s what you wanted, I’d have been an asshole to deny a dying man.”

I took another step. “And now I’m a man dying of thirst. Are you going to be an asshole and deny me?”

Did my desperation borderline manipulation, yes. Was I a vampire with an insatiable thirst, also yes.

Atash shook his head, glancing at the door before looking back at me. Consideration flickered in his expression, his lips curling into a smirk.

“If you don’t cut yourself off, I’ll unload my gun into you before you can blink.” He rolled up his sleeve. “Do you understand, Kieran?”

“Yes, Ash.” His name left my mouth on a breath of amusement.

He stepped forward, offering his arm.

“We can’t let them see I allowed this,” he muttered.

“Is that so?” I barely heard him, already wrapping my fingers around his forearm, tracing over firm skin before pulling him closer.

My lips brushed over his pulse point. His heartbeat stuttered. Then quickened.

I sank my teeth in. Warmth spilled over my tongue, sweet and thick, coating my throat like silk. My whole body hummed—light, heavy, electrified. It was more than hunger. It was euphoric. Addictive. This—this was the drug of the new world, and I finally understood. 

He’s… So sweet... I… I can’t let this consume me.

I forced myself to pull back, tongue sweeping over the punctures one last time. My gaze lifted. Atash was watching me, gaze heavy and unreadable.

Maybe it was the blood, the high of it, but my fingers drifted to the back of his head, threading into his hair. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch. He only waited.

I kissed him.

And he kissed me back.

His arm curled around my waist, his other hand cupping my jaw as he pressed forward, hungry, devouring. I stepped back; he followed. My backside hit the footboard, the bed creaking against the wall.

Everything was amplified. The heat of him, the scent of him, the thrum of his pulse. It was intoxicating.

Had I always wanted him? No. He was unbearable, condescending, an asshole. But… he had skill, guts, and he pushed me harder than anyone. There was tactical chemistry and— Wait. Fuck. No. It was the blood and a rush of prosexual neurochemicals, don’t overthink it.

I did overthink it. 

I pressed a hand to his chest, holding him at a distance. “If we keep going, I’ll eat you.” A partial lie.

His lips ghosted over my throat. “Don’t think I’m scared of a little C-rank like you.” His teeth scraped my skin, a sharp tease.

I exhaled. “Want to test that?” My voice dropped lower. “Even before this, I had no problem pinning you down.”

His breath hitched. “Ah, one of my favorite moves of yours.” His nose traced my jaw, voice low, husky. “So go on. Entertain me, Kieran.”

Then his hips rolled forward, and I felt him—hard against me.

My grip on his chest tightened. “Someone could walk in,” I muttered. “They’ll think I’m attacking you.” Despite my words, I wanted to pin him down. To let the intoxication of him take hold. To taste him—again and again, in every way possible.

Atash chuckled, slow and deliberate. “Fine.” He sighed, stepping back, but lingered just long enough to ghost his lips over mine. Silence stretched as we composed ourselves.

Then his fingers slid into my hair, pushing it back, trailing to the tip of my ear—sharper now, pointed and blackened. “I’ll see if I can get you in with Wren.”

My stomach clenched. “Really?” I kept my voice even, but hope bled into the edges.

“You’re our biologist. It’s your job to analyze vamps.”

I let out a dry laugh. As if I was still part of Bulwark. As if I was still one of them.