The Pact: Bruno and the Crimson Veil

After the final creak, the door that seemed to hold all the darkness in the world slowly opened.

But instead of horror, what emerged was the embodiment of beauty and elegance.

A woman with a striking presence entered gracefully.

My eyes locked onto her — it was the same woman from my dream. Her beauty was almost surreal.

Her pale skin, like mine, created an immediate and vivid contrast.

Her long black hair framed a body that looked sculpted by divine hands.

She had a slender waist, a tight black blouse with a small inscription just above the chest, and a bust that was... perfect — slightly larger than my hand.

In her hair, a delicate purple clip matched her dark-violet flats.

Her curves were hypnotic.

God forgive me, but her hips were mesmerizing.

Tight jeans clung to her in just the right way, highlighting every graceful line.

Her eyes were a deep, piercing brown — a vampiric-angelic kind of beauty.

Noticing how entranced I was, she smiled softly.

My gaze trailed her like a spell, as if trying to preserve that moment forever.

But something about her went beyond beauty — an overwhelming aura radiated from her, activating every primal instinct.

I wanted to flee, to run, to defend myself... but that aura froze me in place, like gravity made of fear.

Step by step, she walked toward me. With each graceful movement, the oppressive aura faded — replaced by something... familiar.

I couldn't even follow her steps. My eyes were still on her body, hypnotized.

Before I realized it, she sat on the edge of my bed.

Our eyes met.

Contrary to the chaos in my mind, she simply greeted me with a shy smile, her fingers nervously intertwined in front of her.

— Good morning, Bruno. Are you feeling better? — she asked gently.

I was confused. What was this strange sense of familiarity?

My voice escaped, broken and stammering.

— Who... who are you? — I asked timidly, my eyes once again drifting down to those hypnotic hips in front of me.

— Ah, I'm sorry. Maybe I came on too strong — she said, extending her hand politely.

— It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Flávia Syla.

Still stunned, I shook her hand.

— I'm... Bruno Constantia. Nice to meet you — I muttered shyly.

She didn't let go of my hand. Instead, she chuckled softly.

— You seemed to like what you saw, didn't you? — she teased, still a bit embarrassed.

Her eyes briefly wandered over me and paused at my waist.

— Hm... seems the feeling was mutual — she laughed.

— Sorry — I blurted out instantly.

It felt like a dream. Honestly, it still felt like a dream.

I was confused, and her body — her whole presence — had overwhelmed me.

— No problem — she replied, still holding my hand.

A bit flustered, I asked:

— Can you tell me... where are we?

— Of course — she nodded.

— We're in my castle.

— Your... castle? — I repeated, both curious and intimidated.

— Why am I here?

— Well, in a way, you'll be living here with me from now on. We're... connected — she said, her eyes sparkling as she continued to hold my hand.

I was utterly lost. My eyes darted between her hand, her eyes... and, again, her hips.

Something was stirring inside me.

— Connected? What do you mean? And... vampires? — I asked.

— Look at yourself — she said.

— Pale skin. Stronger. Taller.

— I turned you into a vampire. I'd love to explain everything properly... in a more comfortable setting...

Before she could finish, her face turned scarlet — so red it looked like steam might rise from her skin.

— What just happened? — I wondered.

Before I could ask, she tossed a set of clothes at me.

— You must be starving. You've slept almost four days.

— Get dressed. I'll wait for you outside.

Still blushing, she let go of my hand and hurried out of the room.

Only then did I realize — I was completely naked.

And below the waist... well, clearly my body had responded very positively to Flávia's curves.

Yeah. Very positively.

I looked at the clothes — elegant and stylish, totally not my vibe.

But something else caught my attention.

Did it... get bigger?

A short, happy laugh escaped me.

For a moment, I even forgot the bizarre situation I was in.

Then I focused on the clothes she had given me.

A red open blazer, a casual black shirt, soft polyester pants, and a pair of black slippers.

Nothing I'd ever wear — but oddly comfortable.

I didn't waste much time getting dressed. I also examined the room — large, simple, and definitely not designed for escape.

Fully dressed, I opened the door.

There she was — Flávia, still a bit flushed.

And beside her, a beautiful maid with flowing white hair and proportions rivaling Flávia's, if not surpassing them.

I nodded politely at the maid, then turned to Flávia.

— Sorry... it's not something I can control.

She smiled shyly.

— It's normal. Vampire emotions tend to be... amplified.

She wrapped her arms around mine and began leading me down the silent corridors.

Flávia's eyes sparkled with something close to joy.

Am I the meal? I thought nervously.

But when we reached the dining hall, I was surprised — an enormous table was filled with red-toned dishes.

The smell was... amazing.

Wait... can vampires eat anything besides blood?

As if sensing my thoughts, Flávia spoke softly:

— The food is marinated in blood.

— Not ideal for you yet, but it helps.

She guided me to the head of the table — the kind of spot where family patriarchs sit.

I didn't want to be there, but she insisted and sat right beside me.

Staring at the food, I felt a strange mix of curiosity, disgust, anger, and weakness.

Was it... human blood?

Anger surged through me.

I swallowed hard — the bitterest swallow of my life.

Rage... it had always followed me.

At twelve, I was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. The excess hormones made me sensitive — physically and emotionally.

Every bad emotion always led to one place: fury.

Not that I wanted it. But it was my shield.

Now, the fury I felt wasn't random — it was directed.

It kept me grounded.

Don't be fooled by her beauty. Don't let kindness turn into chains.

Don't show weakness. Keep your head up.

I glanced at Flávia — still glowing with happiness.

Why?

Why was she so calm?

It irritated me. I felt exposed. Manipulated.

But once again... anger led me to the opposite conclusion.

Manipulation? No... impossible.

She radiated joy — just from sitting beside me.

No ulterior motive.

She just liked being near someone she... loved.

She knew how my mind worked.

So she approached me with kindness, with honesty.

Yet my instincts saw danger.

Everything felt like a trap.

I mistook affection for control.

Protection for imprisonment.

Then she began to speak. Slowly. Sweetly.

Patient as ever.

What an incredible woman.