Chapter 21: Mark?
Damon's heart skipped a beat. He rushed to the bathroom, flipping on the lights. The pale glow illuminated his reflection, and for a moment, he didn't recognize the man staring back at him.
His skin looked too pale. His pupils too sharp. His irises... not fully red, but flecked with crimson, like someone had dripped ink into a glass of water and hadn't stirred it all the way.
"No," he muttered. "That's not possible."
Damon froze. His mind was in a complete mess. First, it was the coming back in time, and now this? No. He was going crazy. He was sure of it. He was going fucking crazy!
"Shit," he whispered. His throat burned. His teeth ached. He wasn't just hungry. He was starving.
And not for food.
How could this be happening? He was just playing a vampire in a freaking game so why was he feeling like this in fucking real life. That was a game and this was the real life, damn it!
He hadn't fully believed it when Bloodreign had told him she had sent him back in time, but now he couldn't ignore it any longer. The proof was right there, staring at his face.
He gripped the edges of the sink, knuckles white, breathing ragged. His reflection stared back with a haunted hunger—half man, half monster. It wasn't just roleplay anymore. This wasn't some immersive side effect of a next-gen gaming rig.