Razeal licked his lips instinctively.
The motion was small, unconscious an echo of hunger rather than intention but the taste lingered all the same. Copper. Warmth. Power. He stood where he was, unmoving, suspended above the seabed, forcing himself to breathe evenly as the euphoric aftershock rolled through him in slow, violent waves. It wasn't just his body that trembled; the sensation reached deeper, clawing its way through his chest, into places he hadn't known could feel pleasure or craving at all.
His mind felt distant, as though wrapped in a haze that dulled thought without dulling sensation. The blood he had taken still burned through him, intoxicating and overwhelming, tugging at instincts that were far older and far less forgiving than reason.
[Congratulations, Host, for successfully turning her into a vampire.]
The system's notification cut cleanly through the moment, sterile and triumphant.
Razeal ignored it.
