Adrian woke at sunset to find Kieran already awake, watching him with an intensity that stole his breath.
"It's time," Kieran said quietly.
They'd prepared everything. The monastery's main hall had been converted into a transformation chamber—thick curtains blocking all sunlight, soft bedding on the floor, blood bags stored nearby for when Adrian woke ravenous.
Marcus and Wei waited outside, ready to defend against any threats while Adrian was vulnerable.
"Last chance," Kieran said, but his voice lacked conviction. They both knew Adrian had made his choice.
"I'm ready."
Kieran led him to the center of the hall, sitting down and pulling Adrian into his lap. "This is going to hurt. Not just the transformation, but the draining. I have to take you to the edge of death before I can bring you back."
"I trust you."
"Then look at me. Don't look away, no matter what."
Adrian met Kieran's eyes—those storm-grey eyes that had watched him across lifetimes—and held his gaze.
Kieran's eyes shifted to crimson, his fangs extending fully. He tilted Adrian's head, exposing his throat, and Adrian felt a moment of primal fear.
Then Kieran's fangs pierced his skin.
The pain was sharp but brief, quickly replaced by a strange euphoria. Adrian gasped as Kieran drank, his body responding with a mix of pleasure and terror. He could feel his blood leaving him, his heartbeat slowing, weakness spreading through his limbs.
"Kieran," he whispered, suddenly afraid.
Kieran's arms tightened around him, one hand stroking his hair even as he continued to drink. The gesture was oddly comforting—predatory and protective simultaneously.
Adrian's vision started to blur. His heartbeat became irregular. He was cold, so cold, and everything was fading.
"Stay with me," Kieran's voice seemed distant. "Just a little longer."
More blood. More weakness. Adrian's body was shutting down, his brain screaming that he was dying.
I'm dying, he realized with crystal clarity. This is what death feels like.
Then Kieran's fangs withdrew. Adrian tried to protest, tried to say he wasn't ready, but no words came out.
Kieran bit his own wrist, black blood welling up, and pressed it to Adrian's lips.
"Drink," Kieran commanded, his voice holding compulsion. "Drink and live."
Adrian's body obeyed before his mind caught up. The taste was overwhelming—copper and ice and power and ancient magic. He drank desperately, instinct taking over, his hands coming up to clutch Kieran's arm and hold it in place.
"That's it," Kieran encouraged. "Take what you need."
Adrian drank and drank until Kieran finally pulled away. "Enough. Any more and you'll make yourself sick."
Adrian collapsed back against Kieran, feeling strange. His dying heart gave one final, stuttering beat.
Then stopped.
The world went black.