"The First Stirring"

Eli hated hospitals.

He hated the smell of them—the sterile tang of chemicals masked poorly by cheap air freshener. He hated the artificial lighting that made everyone look like ghosts. But mostly, he hated the silence. That waiting kind of silence. The kind that held its breath before telling you something that would wreck your whole life.

He drummed his fingers against the metal edge of the exam table, a plastic wristband cutting into his skin.

ELI THORNE – SUBJECT 27

He wasn’t sick. Not really. But ever since the night he blacked out near the metro tunnel—after something bit him—he’d been waking up drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a war drum. Sometimes, he swore he heard whispers in his sleep. And his body... it didn’t feel like his anymore.

Too hot. Too sensitive. Too alive.

The nurse who’d taken his blood that morning hadn’t looked him in the eye. The doctor hadn’t spoken to him directly since he arrived. Something was off.

He’d seen his name once in a research file, years ago. His mother had volunteered them both for genetic testing when he was a kid. Said she needed the money. They’d been flagged for something—Eli never knew what. He didn’t care.

But now… something from that database had pulled him into this facility. And this wasn’t a hospital.

Not really.

It was clean. It had nurses. But there were no windows. No exit signs. The doors had no handles from the inside.

Eli wasn’t stupid.

He was a prisoner.

---

Meanwhile, Lucien led Asher through the ruins of the underground chapel—one of his old sanctuaries. The stained glass had been shattered long ago, but fragments of saints still shimmered under moonlight, casting colored shadows across the floor.

“This is where you sleep?” Asher asked, looking around.

“Sometimes,” Lucien replied. “When I want to remember who I used to be.”

“Which is?”

Lucien smiled, faintly sad. “A believer. Once.”

Asher gave a dry laugh. “Of what? God?”

Lucien’s gaze met his. “Of hope.”

Asher turned away.

He didn’t know what to do with this version of Lucien. Not the predator who cornered him in the alley. Not the flirt with razor-sharp charm. This one was… fragile. Human, almost.

“You talk like you’re broken,” Asher said.

Lucien stepped closer. “I talk like someone who’s been alone a long time.”

The words landed heavy between them.

And maybe that’s why, when Lucien reached out—fingertips brushing Asher’s jaw—he didn’t pull away.

Their eyes locked.

Lucien leaned in slowly, giving him space to move, to stop it.

But Asher didn’t.

Their lips met in a kiss that was nothing like Lucien expected—soft, hesitant, but real. It wasn’t lust. It was something else. Something that made Lucien’s dead heart clench.

Then Asher pulled away.

“I need time,” he whispered.

Lucien nodded. “You’ll have it.”

---

Back in the sterile underground lab, Eli doubled over in the corner of his room, sweat pouring down his face. His stomach twisted violently, and his fingers clawed at the walls as something shifted deep inside him—like the earth cracking open.

Pain lanced through his core. Not sharp like a wound, but deep, primal. His breath hitched. His chest heaved. And then—

thump.

A second heartbeat.

Inside him.

His eyes widened in horror. “What the—”

The monitor above his bed began to beep rapidly.

Down the hall, alarms flared.

Dr. Lennox looked up from her tablet and smiled.

“He's reacting to Lucien.”

Her assistant paled. “But they haven’t met.”

“They don’t need to,” she said coldly. “Not when they’re already bound.”

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