The grocery store shelves looked foreign to her. Unfamiliar, even a little frightening. Gerda, a committed vegan until recently, now felt something different rising inside her. Something animal. It stirred quietly, demanding to be fed.
She walked slowly past the refrigerated displays filled with meat delicacies, locked in a silent battle with herself. The smell, once repulsive, now pulled her forward, making her heart beat faster.
Her gaze drifted along the glass cases when someone brushed against her shoulder. Not hard, but unexpected. She turned sharply, eyes alert, breath caught. A man knelt in front of her, gathering scattered apples. He looked up, and for a second something flashed in his eyes—shock, maybe pain—quickly buried beneath a neutral, polite expression.
"I'm sorry..." he said, quieter than the situation required. His voice was low, restrained, like a scream recently silenced. "I got distracted."
Gerda didn’t answer right away. There was something in his eyes that caught her—something familiar, almost unsettling. Deep inside her body, something stirred, like a hidden thread trembling in response.
"It’s okay. So was I," she said at last, and her voice sounded unfamiliar even to herself. Hollow.
The man picked up the last apple and handed it to her, his gaze steady. His fingers brushed her palm—briefly, almost not at all—but something flared inside her. Heat, not pain. Like touching metal that’s warm only on the inside.
"Mark," he said after a pause in which everything around them seemed to hold its breath.
His voice was calm, but behind that calm was something taut. A tension you could almost feel. Like emotions fighting under the surface, and him choosing which one to show.
"Gerda," she replied, holding his gaze. Her name sounded final, as if it had been echoing in his memory for a long time.
They looked at each other for another breath, and in that silence there was nothing accidental anymore.
Then the world began to move again. Someone passed by with a shopping basket, music spilled from the speakers, lights above the checkout counters flashed. Gerda nodded faintly and walked away, but she could feel his gaze still on her back.
A flicker of heat remained inside her. Unclear. Like the echo of someone else’s memory.
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Gerda still felt the restlessness, a gnawing hunger inside her, even though she had already eaten two steaks. A strange irritability simmered in her like a quiet fire. She decided there was only one way to dull the buzzing under her skin—alcohol. Let it burn everything out and push the thoughts away.
She chose a club that didn’t have a line at the door. No fake smiles from bouncers she wanted to strangle on sight. The place had a reputation—“good girls don’t come here.” But Gerda didn’t feel like a good girl. Not tonight. Not anymore.
Inside, it was dim. The music muffled conversations, and the lights pulsed like a lazy breath. Everything looked oddly routine—couples tucked into corners, a bartender yawning at the counter. But under that dull surface was something tense, coiled. Like a spring hidden in the air, waiting to snap.
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Gerda went to the bar and ordered a shot of tequila without looking at the menu. Then another. And another.
On the third shot, her hand froze mid-air. Someone had caught the glass before she could raise it to her lips.
She looked up sharply, breath already drawn to snap at him but the words stuck. A man stood before her with a faint smirk and dark eyes that radiated calm confidence.
"Not worth it," he said softly, setting the glass back on the counter. His gaze lingered on her a beat too long, studying her features like he was checking them against a memory only he knew. "Too many jackals tonight. And trust me, booze won’t keep them away."
"Excuse me?" Gerda narrowed her eyes, unsure if he was joking. But something in his voice made her still. He spoke too calmly. Too surely.
"Chris," he introduced himself simply, leaning in. His voice was low, warm, with a hint of amusement. "It’s your first time here... Anyone can tell... especially the ones who don’t take no for an answer. They can smell fresh blood."
Gerda tensed. She didn’t like murky situations with no clear role assigned to her. But she didn’t have time to respond. Chris glanced over his shoulder, then gently touched her elbow. His hand barely grazed her skin, but it sent a wave of heat through her.
"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. But her heart skipped. She could feel his warmth, strong, steady, dangerous.
"Keeping us clear of the wrong kind of attention," he murmured, stepping closer. His lips brushed hers, so lightly it might have been accidental. But it wasn’t.
He wasn’t trying to kiss her. Not really. Just to mark a line, to show the others she wasn’t alone. But in that instant, time paused. He felt a flicker, unfamiliar and unsettling. Like, what the hell was that?
The kiss lingered, just a moment too long, but enough for a current to pass between them. He pulled back, lowering his head slightly as if trying to regain control. Gerda’s eyes told him she’d felt it too.
Around them, stares gathered. Chris exhaled, annoyed. He remembered he had a meeting scheduled. This whole scene with the girl had thrown him off, disrupted his rhythm. Her presence distracted him and that’s what irritated him the most.
"Playtime’s over," he muttered, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the exit.
Outside, he quickly ordered a cab and held the door open for her.
"Address?" His voice was softer now, but the irritation still simmered underneath.
Gerda gave her address without thinking, unsure why she obeyed. There was something about him… not up for debate. Something you either ran from or ran into. Chris handed the driver the fare and slammed the door shut.
On the way home, she replayed every moment. The touch. The voice. The kiss. Each second gained new color in hindsight, as if she were reliving it with clearer senses. "So much for a quiet night out," she thought wryly. But inside, something tugged. Alongside the irritation, something else had taken root. A strange excitement. Almost a tremble. Like someone had stirred something in her she hadn’t even known was asleep.
When she got home, she didn’t take off her shoes. Just collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep. No fade-out. Just a plunge into dark water.
And all night, it wouldn’t let her go.
In the dream, the kiss didn’t end at the cab. It continued, hot, deep, persistent. Chris looked at her like she was someone he’d been searching for. Their bodies moved in rhythm, slow and close, skin to skin. Music pulsed through them like a second heartbeat.
His hand slid to her waist, firm, as if she belonged to him. The other hand traced her back, barely touching, like he was reading her spine. Every movement echoed inside her, like strings tightening under his fingers. Her breath hitched, her belly tensed, her chest swelled under his touch. She felt herself becoming the movement, the fire, the music of the dream.
His eyes glowed brighter, gold flashing in his pupils, burning through her. He looked at her as if he was searching for something sacred, something forgotten, something he didn’t think he’d find again. When the fire inside became unbearable, she let go, surrendered to the light, to the heat, to him.
Then came the flash. Her body clenched and surged, heat bursting outward in a wave. She felt herself unravel, scatter into a thousand sparks, so bright it stole her breath even in sleep.
And then, peace. True, full, deep. Like breathing for the first time after pain. Like touching something real.
She woke easily. Her body felt alive, light, like after a long sleep she hadn’t known she needed.
"Well. That was a night," she whispered.
The corners of her mouth lifted on their own as a soft tremor answered from somewhere inside, like an echo of something important that was only just beginning.
