Marvel Ultimate Gacha

On the hillside, by the edge of a serene lake, stood a small wooden cabin. Inside, a blonde beauty slept quietly, as Michael watched her intently from across the room.

Suddenly, the woman gasped, clutching her chest as if trying to catch her breath. Her eyes darted around the room in confusion. "What? Where am I?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Michael stepped closer, his expression calm but tinged with concern. "You're fine," he assured her softly. "You're safe, Camille."

She shook her head, struggling to stand. "Safe? What... What happened? The last thing I remember is..." Her voice trailed off as fragments of her memory returned. She glanced down at her wrist, noticing something strange. Raising her hand, she inspected her skin as Michael watched silently.

As she focused, a faint mark on her wrist faded before her eyes, leaving her skin completely unblemished. "Was that... a dream?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, looking at Michael for answers.

Michael hesitated, his mouth opening as if to explain, but he stopped himself. Instead, he raised his hand, and a blood bag floated gently toward Camille, landing in her lap. Her eyes widened in shock as her gaze shifted from the bag to Michael.

"What is this?" she demanded, her voice trembling. Then, as if on instinct, her eyes turned a deep crimson, and dark veins appeared around them.

Michael took a step back, his expression pained. "I'm sorry, Camille," he said quietly. "You're... a vampire now. I shouldn't have told you about them, about the risks. I wanted to protect you, but..." His voice faltered as he lowered his gaze. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

Camille stared at him, horrified. "No... no!" she cried, throwing the blood bag away. She stood, backing away from him. "You didn't do this! It wasn't you—it was me!" she insisted, her voice shaking with emotion. "I... I'll fix this. I'll find a way to fix this," she said determinedly, gripping his arm as her red eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Michael reached out to steady her, his expression filled with guilt. "I'll help you," he promised softly. "I'll help you through this," he said, pulling her into a comforting hug. Camille nodded hesitantly, resting her head against his shoulder. Then, without warning, she bit into his neck.

"Arghh!" Michael winced, feeling a sharp pain as she latched onto him.

"Wait... isn't this supposed to feel enjoyable in the movies?" he mumbled, confused by the pain. But then his eyes widened. Wait, I'm in my spirit form! What is she even drinking? No..Why the heck am I even feeling any Pain?

Camille groaned as she continued to drink, but her face twisted with frustration. Finally, she pulled away, wiping her mouth. "There's nothing," she said, her voice a mix of anger and despair.

Michael nodded, his expression serious. "That's because I don't have blood in this form," he said. Reaching into a nearby cooler, he grabbed the blood bag he'd prepared earlier and handed it to her. "Drink this, or you'll die," he urged.

Reluctantly, Camille took the blood bag, tearing it open with trembling hands. As the thick red liquid touched her lips, she began to drink, and color slowly returned to her face.

Michael sighed in relief, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Last night's chaos came rushing back to him. They had set the bar ablaze during their fight, but something had gone horribly wrong. He had just been about to leave when he noticed blood smeared across Camille's face. Then it hit him—when he'd stabbed that Diego guy, his blood must have splattered onto her. In the confusion, she must have accidentally ingested some of it.

Realizing what had happened, Michael had used his psychokinesis to carry her unconscious body to this safe place, waiting for her to wake. Now, as he watched her drink from the blood bag, he couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him.

"Camille," he said softly, his voice filled with regret. "I'm so sorry this happened to you. But we'll figure this out, together."

Camille was busy feeding on the blood bag, her attention fixed entirely on it. Michael sat nearby, watching her with concern. He wasn't sure if she had heard him earlier, but he patiently waited for her to finish.

"Are you done?" he asked gently.

Camille placed the empty blood bag aside, sitting on the bed with a faraway look in her eyes. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I used to find vampires fascinating... reading about them, watching shows and movies. But now..." She trailed off, her expression conflicted. "Now I am one. And it feels... strange. I don't know how to feel."

Michael listened, giving her the space to process her emotions.

"I feel... everything," Camille continued, her voice trembling. "There's this hunger, this urge." Her eyes locked on his. "I feel like I should grab you, kiss you, pin you to the bed—"

Michael chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but in my soul form, I'm not exactly pin-able."

Camille stood abruptly, crossing the small space between them. Sitting on his lap, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply.

"Mmm—" Michael made a sound of surprise but didn't pull away immediately. Her kiss was soft yet hungry, filled with a raw intensity that was hard to ignore. For a moment, he almost lost himself in it.

But then, using his Spiritokinesis, Michael gently pushed her back onto the bed, holding her at arm's length. "As much as I'd love to indulge in a little fun with you," he said with a teasing smirk, "you're not in your right mind right now."

Camille blinked, the haze of hunger in her eyes starting to fade. She looked at him, confused. "What's happening to me?"

"You're transitioning into a vampire," Michael explained patiently. "It's overwhelming right now, I know. Your emotions are heightened, and the new instincts can feel... impossible to control. But I promise, it will get easier."

She frowned but nodded slowly, lying back on the bed. "Did I tell you," she murmured, "that your kind... eyes... have a certain charm about them?"

Michael smiled, amused. "My mother used to say the same thing," he replied.

Camille gave a small laugh, relaxing slightly. "So," she said after a pause, "how long until this... excessive hormones show is over and I stop feeling like I'm going to explode?"

Michael shook his head. "I'm not sure exactly, but it won't be much longer," he assured her.

She nodded again, curling up under the blanket. "Can you... stay with me? Just for a while?" she asked softly.

Michael didn't hesitate. He climbed into the bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her. She nestled close, her breathing evening out as she began to calm.

"I'm here," he said gently. "As long as you want."

Camille smiled faintly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Michael."

"Always," he replied, pressing a reassuring kiss to her forehead before resting his head on the pillow beside her.

*******

Like it?

A/ N : While waiting for new chap, do check out my new book, In Marvel with Ultimate fantasy System

Read More at :- patreon.com/be_king