Transformative Nights

Dinner

The low hum of the car engine filled the space as Asa expertly maneuvered the sleek black vehicle along the winding road. The interior was quiet, save for the occasional sound of Jonathan shifting in his seat as he gazed out the window, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“You seem...preoccupied,” Asa commented, his tone light but measured. The butler’s sharp gaze flicked to Jonathan briefly through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah,” Jonathan replied, leaning back and rubbing his chin. “It’s been...a lot to take in. The school, the magic, everything. Honestly, I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

Asa gave a faint smile, his eyes returning to the road. “The first day is always overwhelming. But you’ll find your footing soon enough.”

By the time they arrived at the estate, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a deep twilight over the grounds. The headlights illuminated the driveway as Asa parked neatly by the entrance. Jonathan stepped out, glancing up at the sprawling mansion, before heading inside where Chai Hao waited, seated in the main hall with a glass of wine in hand.

Jonathan’s face lit up as he entered, his enthusiasm evident. “Hey, Chai Hao,” he greeted, his voice brimming with energy. “The tour was amazing.”

I set the glass down on the table and leaned back, smiling faintly. “I’m glad to hear it. Tell me—how did it go? What are your thoughts so far?”

Jonathan dropped into the seat across from me, his words spilling out in a rush. “The school is incredible—like, seriously. It’s huge, and the way it’s all hidden underground? That’s insane. The classes seem intense, but I think I’m up for it. And magic, man...it’s not just hocus-pocus. It’s...like, real, tangible energy you can feel. It’s powerful.”

I nodded, pleased by his genuine excitement. “I’m glad you’re embracing the opportunity.”

Jonathan’s grin widened as he leaned forward. “And then there’s the Headmistress. Isolde Laurent.”

At her name, my fingers tightened imperceptibly around the stem of the glass. “Oh?” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “What about her?”

“She’s something else,” Jonathan began, his voice carrying an almost reverent tone. “I mean, she knows her stuff, and she’s got this...presence, you know? Like she walks into a room, and you can’t help but pay attention.”

I inclined my head slightly, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere. “She is very accomplished. But tell me more about the classes. Which element do you think you’ll choose?”

Jonathan shrugged, brushing off the question as if it were unimportant. “Still thinking about it. But seriously, the Headmistress—she’s got this way of explaining things that makes it all seem, I don’t know, bigger. Like, she’s not just teaching, she’s...commanding.”

I shifted in my seat, determined to guide the conversation back to something productive. “I’m glad she made an impression. But what about the potion-making class? Did you find the materials interesting?”

Jonathan’s smile turned sly, and his tone dropped slightly. “Sure, the class was cool, but can we talk about the way she carries herself? It’s...hypnotic. And those eyes? I swear they can see right through you.”

I took a deliberate sip of my wine, trying to keep my composure. “She’s known for her piercing gaze,” I said lightly, hoping to pivot the topic once more. “But the library—did you visit it? The resources there are unparalleled.”

Jonathan leaned back, his grin widening as if he could sense my discomfort. “Yeah, the library’s great, but have you seen the way she moves? There’s this...grace, but it’s also kind of dangerous, you know? Like she’s got a lot more going on under the surface.”

I set the glass down with a bit more force than intended. “I think we’ve discussed the Headmistress enough for one evening,” I said, my voice tighter than I would have liked.

Jonathan’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned forward again, his tone dipping into something dangerously close to lewd. “Come on, Chai Hao. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Those curves? The way her jacket fits her—”

“That’s enough,” I interrupted, standing abruptly. My chair scraped against the floor, the sound sharp and decisive.

Jonathan blinked, startled by my sudden movement, but then a sly grin spread across his face. “Touchy subject?”

“I think you’ve had a long day,” I said curtly, brushing past him. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be just as intense.”

As I strode out of the room, I could feel his eyes on me, the weight of his amusement following me like a shadow. Inside, my thoughts churned with frustration and no small amount of irony. This is what it feels like to be pursued by Jonathan, I thought bitterly. And yet, the fact that his attention was directed at Isolde Laurent—a facade, a tool—only deepened my displeasure.

The idea simmered in my mind as I sat in the quiet of my study, Jonathan's earlier remarks echoing in my thoughts. If he wanted to dwell on Isolde Laurent, then I would grant him the space to speak freely—but not without purpose. Tonight, I would ensure he couldn’t shake me, the real me, from his thoughts.

When I was sure he had returned to his room and had time to settle, I made my way there. The soft click of my boots against the floor was the only sound in the dim hallway. Without bothering to knock, I opened the door and stepped inside, startling him as he glanced up from his seat by the window.

“Chai Hao,” he said, his voice tinged with surprise. “You could knock, you know.”

I smiled faintly, closing the door behind me. “I apologize for earlier,” I said smoothly, my tone calm but firm. “You were clearly...excited by the Headmistress, and I cut you short. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Jonathan blinked, his surprise deepening. “Uh...thanks? I mean, yeah, I guess I got carried away.”

“SIT,” I commanded, my voice laced with the power of my age and authority. The force of it startled even me, but it worked. Jonathan sat immediately, his usual defiance replaced with wide-eyed obedience.

I moved deliberately, pulling up a chair and sitting directly in front of him. His body tensed slightly as I leaned in, close enough to see the flicker of confusion and curiosity in his eyes.

“Keep talking,” I said, my voice low and steady. “You were so animated earlier.”

I reached down and grabbed one of his legs, his muscles stiffening under my touch. Before he could protest, I pulled off one of his shoes and set it aside. “Go on.”

He hesitated, his words faltering as his gaze darted between my face and my hands. “Uh...what do you want me to say?”

“Everything you were saying before,” I replied, removing his other shoe with deliberate ease. “About the Headmistress. Her presence, her looks, her...everything. Keep going.”

He started speaking hesitantly, his words disjointed at first. But as I leaned back, giving him space, he found his rhythm again, describing her commanding aura, her sharp intelligence, and—of course—her striking appearance. His voice grew more animated, his tone dipping into that same reverent admiration he had used earlier.

I stood abruptly, watching him trail off as his eyes followed my movements. With a calm but firm motion, I pushed him down onto the bed, commanding, “Lay down.”

His body obeyed almost instinctively, and though his gaze held a flicker of resistance, he complied, his back pressing against the mattress. His breathing quickened slightly, and he began to speak again, this time about her elegance, her confidence, and her grace. But the words came slower now, his thoughts clearly fractured by my proximity.

“Don’t stop,” I said, letting my voice dip into a heavier register, the weight of a sacred eating companion’s command thrumming through the air. “Keep going.”

The effect was instant. Jonathan’s lips parted, and his words spilled forth once again, though this time they edged closer to the lewd. His voice softened as he spoke of her form, the way her tailored suit hugged her body, the curve of her hips, the sharp line of her jaw. There was a husky undercurrent to his tone, as though he were confessing something he had tried and failed to suppress. The rawness of it made the air between us thick, and heavy with tension.

As he spoke, I reached for his waistband, my hand moving with deliberate slowness. The sharp intake of his breath betrayed his surprise, and he stumbled over his words, choking slightly. “What...what are you doing?” he managed his voice half a question, half a demand.

I didn’t break eye contact, my expression calm and unbothered. “Don’t mind me,” I said, my tone almost conversational. “I’m just having dinner while you talk.”

His words faltered completely, his gaze dropping to the arm I had fed from before. His hesitation was palpable, a mixture of confusion and apprehension.

“Oh,” I said, letting my voice carry a note of faint amusement. “I would have chosen the arm again, as usual, but you were so animated about... school, we’ll say, that I felt I needed a more substantial meal.”

His eyes widened slightly as realization dawned, the implications of my words settling in. “You’re serious?” he asked, his voice a blend of incredulity and disbelief.

I nodded, my hand resting lightly on his hip as I met his gaze with calm intensity. “Very. You may be too tired to provide this later, after your magical classes. Consider this efficient planning on my part.”

The flicker of resistance in his expression faltered under the weight of my presence. “Keep going,” I commanded, my voice low and resonant, the compulsion threading through my words impossible to ignore.

His jaw tightened, his reluctance warring with the command etched into his mind. Slowly, haltingly, he began to speak again, his words resuming their earlier course. But this time, there was an edge of vulnerability to his tone, a rawness that hadn’t been there before. As his descriptions grew more detailed, I leaned closer, my focus entirely on him.

The sharp prick of my fangs against his skin was brief but deliberate, and I felt his body tense instinctively. As I began to feed, the rich, heady taste of his blood filled my senses, laced with the energy of his emotions—desire, confusion, defiance, and something deeper I couldn’t yet name. Each draw was slow, and purposeful, as I balanced between taking what I needed and leaving him enough to remain aware.