Chapter 233: Emotions exploding
The forest wasn’t silent.
It never was.
But that morning, the sounds seed delayed.
Damon ran.
Not like a human.
Not like a common predator.
He disappeared.
The ground rose and vanished beneath his feet like an uneven blur of leaves, roots, and damp earth. The wind cut his face with constant pressure, pulling his hair back as the tree trunks transford into vertical shadows that ca toward him too fast.
He dodged.
Instinctive.
A leap.
His body tilting before the thought even finished.
A fallen trunk appeared ahead—he stepped on it at an impossible angle, propelling himself sideways, his hand briefly touching the rough bark of a living tree to shift his axis of movent.
Pure speed.
But it wasn’t just running fast.
It was recalibrating the world.
His senses didn’t keep up as before. They went further.
He saw the grain of the wood in the trees as he passed. He felt the vibration of the ground before stepping. The sll of exposed sap mingled with that of wet earth, and even the sound of his own movent seed diluted in layers.
He braked abruptly, spinning on his heel.
The ground lifted.
A large rock blocked the path.
He didn’t go around it.
He jumped.
His body rolled over it, almost horizontally, his hand touching the surface for stability, and he landed already accelerating again.
"Okay..." he murmured through his teeth. "Improving."
Super-speed wasn’t just a gift.
It was a physical responsibility.
His body needed to withstand internal impact, air friction, centrifugal force in sharp turns. Fortunately, he was no longer just an ordinary incubus. His body had been resilient before—agile, flexible, naturally durable.
Now...
Now it was sothing more.
He sped off again, using the trees as deliberate obstacles. Instead of avoiding them completely, he purposefully approached them too closely, forcing himself to react at the last instant.
Training reflexes.
Training control.
Training instinct.
The forest beca a circuit.
A test.
A training ground.
And he was adjusting too quickly.
It bothered him.
He slowed down until he stopped completely in a narrow clearing. The air around him still vibrated slightly from the abrupt movent.
Silence.
He ran his hand over his neck.
It didn’t hurt anymore.
But the mory of the bite was still there.
Being a vampire.
Being an incubus.
At the sa ti.
He closed his eyes for a mont.
The hunger wasn’t constant like before. It was different now. Deeper. Less desperate.
More... selective.
He still felt the incubus urge—that instinctive attraction to closeness, touch, emotional energy. But now there was also the thirst.
The blood called.
It didn’t scream.
It called.
Elegantly.
Dangerously.
He took a deep breath, though he didn’t need to.
—What a troubleso combination...
He opened his eyes.
A different vibration cut through the air.
A sharp sound.
Too instinctive to ignore.
He didn’t think.
His arm moved.
A spear ripped through the space where his head had been a second before.
His hand closed on the shaft.
In the air.
The impact echoed through his arm, but didn’t unbalance him.
He spun his body, using the weapon’s own montum to absorb the force, and landed firmly, holding the spear horizontally.
Silence.
He looked up.
Esther erged from behind a tree as if she had been there for a long ti.
Calm.
Observant.
Her hair neatly tied back, her analytical gaze scanning him from head to toe.
"Your reflexes have improved," she comnted.
Damon swung the spear once before planting it in the ground beside him.
"It cos with the bloodlust," he replied. "Almost inevitable."
She took a few steps closer, assessing him with the sa look she always used in training.
"Better than being dead."
He let out a light breath through his nose.
"I agree."
There was a brief silence between them.
Not uncomfortable.
But different.
Esther stopped a few ters from him.
"Your training is over," she said, direct as always.
He tilted his head.
"Over?"
"With the spear, yes." She crossed her arms. "And with the Icy IQ too."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Are you quitting being my ntor?"
"No." An almost invisible corner of her lips moved. "You simply don’t need to anymore."
She took a sideways step, picking up the spear he had stuck in the ground.
"Your control is stable. Your reasoning under pressure doesn’t collapse. And your trajectory reading..." she made a small gesture with the weapon, "...surpasses mine now."
He didn’t smile.
But sothing in his gaze changed.
"So you ca just to test , then?"
Esther shook her head slightly.
"I ca to see if you’re alright."
He remained motionless.
"You seed... strange" she continued. "After you turned into this thing."
"This thing."
He chuckled softly.
"Fair enough."
She stared at him with raw sincerity.
"I’m not talking about strength. Or speed. I’m talking about you."
He looked away for a second, staring at the surrounding trees.
"I’m holding back" he admitted.
Esther frowned.
"From what?"
He took a mont to answer.
The emotions were... high.
Too intense.
The bond with Elizabeth amplified everything. He felt her happiness like a constant fla within his chest. He felt his own desire, his own hunger, his own energy circulating with absurd force.
It was too much.
He squeezed his fingers slightly.
"My emotions are about to explode," he said finally. "I feel everything too much."
She remained silent.
"And I’m holding myself back from doing sothing."
Her gaze tightened.
"What?"
He turned his face slowly toward her.
There was no joking.
No empty provocation.
Just raw honesty.
"I’m dying to attack you," he said.
The silence between them changed in density.
Esther didn’t back down.
But her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Attack," she repeated, neutrally.
He nodded once.
"And kiss you nonstop."
The sentence wasn’t whispered.
It was direct.
The forest seed to listen.
The wind passed through the leaves, creating a low sound that filled the space between them.
Esther watched him as if she were analyzing a newly forged blade.
"Is this thirst?" she asked.
"Not only that."
He took a step forward.
Not aggressively.
But charged.
"It’s the bond. It’s the transformation. It’s the fact that I can feel everything with multiplied intensity."
She didn’t move.
"Do you want to bite ?" she asked.
He tilted his head slightly.
"No."
The answer was imdiate.
"I want you."
The air seed to grow heavier.
Esther took a deep breath.
"This is impulse."
"I know."
"You’re different."
"I know."
She took a single step closer.
Now they were too close to feign neutrality.
"Are you holding back?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Very much."
She studied his face.
His eyes were clearer. More alive. There was sothing predatory there—but not directed toward destruction.
Directed toward closeness.
"Are you going to lose control?" she asked.
"No."
The answer ca firmly.
"Because if I do..." she began.
"I won’t," he interrupted.
Silence returned.
But now charged with a different kind of tension.
Ester raised her hand.
Not to attack.
She placed two fingers on his chest.
She felt the rhythm.
She felt the energy vibrating beneath his skin.
"It’s accelerating," she comnted.
"I know."
She kept her fingers there for another second.
"You’re not looking at
like an enemy."
"No."
"Nor like prey."
"No."
She held his gaze.
"So why do I feel like you’re on the verge of making a move?"
He smiled slightly.
"Because I am."
The wind shifted direction.
Her scent mingled with that of the forest.
And Damon realized sothing dangerous:
He was holding back.
But not because he didn’t want to act.
But because he wanted to choose how to act.
"I won’t do anything without your consent," he said, now more quietly.
Ester remained still.
The silence between them was no longer about threat.
It was about decision.
And he was learning that being a vampire and an incubus at the sa ti wasn’t about losing control.
It was about feeling the world intensely enough to need to choose every move.
Ester held his gaze for a few more seconds.
The tension wasn’t fear.
It was decision.
She knew exactly what she was doing when she took that half-step forward.
"Then do it," she said, simply, directly. — You can do whatever you want.
There was no provocation in his voice.
No challenge.
It was confidence.
Damon didn’t smile.
He disappeared.
There was no sound of movent. No warning. A blur distorted the air between them, and the next instant, he was there—inches away.
His hand slid down her waist with controlled firmness, pulling her close before her own brain had even finished processing the movent.
And he kissed her.
It wasn’t rough.
It was intense.
His mouth t hers with almost frightening precision, as if he already knew exactly how to fit together. The impact of the proximity made the air leave her lungs in a short breath.
She almost lost her balance.
He held back.
The kiss was unhesitating.
It was deep, urgent, charged with what he had been holding back since the bond had been established. There was no violence—but there was hunger.
Not for blood.
For closeness.
His hand moved up her back, firm, holding her against his body while his lips moved with enough intensity to steal any coherent thought.
Ester tried to follow.
Tried to respond.
But his speed wasn’t just physical—it was emotional. There was an avalanche there, a surge of sensations that hit her all at once.
The world around her seed to disappear.
The scent of the forest.
The wind.
The ground beneath her feet.
Everything beca distant.
Her body reacted first—her fingers instinctively gripping his shirt, pulling him back as if she needed sothing solid to anchor herself to.
He deepened the kiss for a mont.
Slowly.
Controlled.
But intense.
She felt his heat.
The contained strength.
The breath he technically didn’t need, but still did out of habit—warm against her skin.
When he finally lessened the intensity, the air returned to her lungs unevenly.
Ester opened her eyes first.
She was panting.
Literally almost breathless.
He kept his forehead pressed against hers for another second, still holding her waist, as if confirming that she was there.
Whole.
Alive.
Present.
"You..." she began, trying to regain her rhythm. "You’re really not exaggerating when you talk about intensity."
He let out a light breath through his nose.
"I warned you."
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