Pastor Dawn

I lay there, my body aching with emptiness, hunger gnawing at me like some relentless force burrowing deeper, consuming more.

Allen had spent the past month trying to break me—his relentless insistence, the bags of blood piling up, the casual smirks, the knowing glances, the confidence that I'd give in eventually.

And maybe he was right. 

Pieces of myself were slipping away, fragments lost in the hunger, in the exhaustion, in the slow erosion of who I had been. My limbs felt like lead, my thoughts unraveling, barely stringing together as exhaustion settled deeper into my bones.

He was in my office chair, feet propped up, scrolling through my computer as if he owned the place. His speakers blared that damned devil's music—each beat slicing through my skull like a blade.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to block it out.

"Would you turn that shit down?" I croaked, my voice paper-thin, barely hanging on.

Allen let out a low whistle, turning in his seat with a grin that screamed pure arrogance.

"Well damn—the pastor finally said a cuss word. Now we're making progress."

I glared weakly, but he didn't take me seriously.

Why would he?

I could barely lift my head.

"Hey," he continued, voice mocking, laced with that same infuriating certainty, "you aren't gonna try to kill yourself again while I'm gone, are ya?"

The way he said it—so casually, so unbothered—sent a sharp pulse of anger through me, but I was too tired, too drained to let it take root.

And he knew that.

He fed off it, off my silence, off my exhaustion, like it was all part of the plan.

Then, with a flourish, he stood, stretching lazily, humming a tune—some cheerful, twisted melody, like he had already won.

"Oh, what a joy it is to be alive," he sang, voice dripping with smugness, with amusement. But his eyes—his eyes stayed steady, watching, waiting, certain that I would break.

I rolled over, turning away from him, trying to shut him out.

But the truth was—I wasn't shutting him out.

I was shutting myself out.

Because the fight inside me was growing too weak to matter anymore.

"Okay, Mr. Dawn, I'll be heading out for the night."

Allen stretched lazily against the doorframe, his grin casual, but his eyes knowing. Then he disappeared out the door.

I closed my eyes and drifted into a daydream of Anna.

"Anna... It's been a while since I've seen you."

Her sweet smile, the delicate scent of her skin, the way her curls spilled over her shoulders like waves of warmth. Her voice—soft, kind, comforting—filled my mind like a lullaby.

I missed the way I would lay my head in her lap, her fingers threading through my hair, grounding me, soothing me.

I missed her.

But then, a new sensation crept in.

A slow, tingling hunger.

I thought about her neck. Her veins.

No.

I shot up, breath hitching, shaking my head violently.

"No, no, no," I murmured. "I can't think of Anna like that."

It was forbidden.

It had always been forbidden.

But now? Now, I wasn't human anymore. I was a vampire.

And that meant...

No.

I shoved the thought down, burying it deep, locking it away where it couldn't reach me.

I had to let myself wither. I had to let time take me, until I truly died and was released from this life.

For now, I was safe. The pastor Allen hired didn't know about my condition or the dark world I had been dragged into. My higher-ups thought I was simply unwell, trapped in some crisis of faith. Allen made sure I didn't say anything.

I let the exhaustion pull me under, sweeping me into dreams—sweet, untouched, free from hunger, free from need. I rolled over to face the back of the couch.

But the dreams didn't last.

I was forced onto my back, and Allen loomed over me, a cup in his hand. The scent of blood was thick in the air, dark and heady, curling around me like a whisper of temptation.

He pressed it to my lips, and I tried to turn away, tried to fight it, but the hunger clawed at me, unbearable, relentless.

Then, my mind goes blank.

The first drop hit my tongue, and my entire body shuddered. Bold. Sweet. Dangerous.

It wasn't just blood—it was something more, something that seeped into my very bones.

The flavor overwhelmed me, flooding every nerve. A shudder tore through me, the last shred of my resistance dissolving as the intoxicating sweetness invaded every fiber of my being.

I tore the cup from his hand, gulping it down with reckless desperation. It was intoxicating, addicting—like drowning in velvet and fire all at once.

When the last drop was gone, I gasped, my chest heaving.

Then it came.

Power—raw, immense, unstoppable—surged through my veins like lightning.

My body trembled, my fingers twitching as the sensation rippled through me, sinking deep into my very core. The heaviness I had carried for so long was gone, replaced by something weightless, boundless.

My vision sharpened.

My senses erupted.

My mind cleared, as though fog had been lifted after years in darkness.

And then I saw him.

Allen, leaning back, watching me, his smirk deep and full of triumph.

He had known this would happen.

Had known exactly how easily I would break, how easily I would surrender.

"How do you feel?" His voice was smooth, almost lazy, but beneath it, there was something more—satisfaction, amusement, expectation.

I looked down at my hands, flexing my fingers.

They trembled. But not with fear.

"I feel..." My voice was different. Stronger. Sharper. More certain than it had ever been.

"I feel incredible."

Allen's smirk widened.

"Then let's go," he said, standing, offering his hand. "Let's see what you can do."

I hesitated—but only for a moment.

I looked down at the cup and grabbed it. Without warning, I hurled it at his face. The cup shattered—not against his cheek, but in his hand. I stood there, stunned for a split second—and then my anger exploded.

"How could you?" I shouted, fury blazing in my eyes. "I was almost finally dead—finally free! And now, don't you dare talk about turning fully undead like it's some kind of badge of honor. Yet you forced that vile blood down my throat!"

Allen met my glare with an unnervingly calm smile. "So what if I forced you?" he purred, his tone deceptively smooth. "Haven't you savored every drop of that crimson nectar? The way it warmed your throat, the way it burned like something meant for you? I want you to understand the joy of being one of us—a being who transcends humanity, wielding power far beyond any mortal limits, with the freedom to do as we please."

"Are you insane?" I demanded, my voice trembling between shock and simmering rage. "Freedom? That's not freedom—that's hiding in the shadows, being hunted like a criminal!"

Allen stepped closer, his presence both magnetic and suffocating. "Oh, Mr. Dawn," he murmured, his voice low and velvety. "This isn't about hiding. It's about liberation. I'm here to change everything—starting with this town. Shake off the weight of your past, the chains of servitude to a god who never saved you, the blood of creatures you once hunted because someone told you they deserved it."

His eyes locked onto mine—dark pools of certainty. "Do you truly believe they were all monsters?"

"They weren't innocent!" I snapped, my pulse hammering in my ears.

But then—the memory surfaced, unbidden.

The succubus.

She had been running.

She had been holding a child.

I chased her down the alley, heart pounding, weapon steady, but before I reached her—my teammate got there first. The child's screams tore through the air, sharp and frantic, drowning out everything else. "Mother..." the little voice had pleaded, barely more than a whisper, trembling. My teammate had said he had it under control. I had turned away.

And now, I wondered—had I been the monster that night?

Allen saw it. He saw the shift in my face, the crack in my certainty.

"Ah," he said softly, "so you do remember. They are not as innocent as you think, but neither were you."

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms, but I had no response.

His gaze softened, carrying an almost seductive promise. "And think, Dawn—imagine finally being with the one who truly captivated your heart. That girl. The one whose lap you rested in, the one whose presence quieted something deep inside you. You felt something real with her, didn't you? A comfort you've never let yourself have. With me, you can have it all: power, freedom—even love without shame."

His voice lowered, rich with calculated allure. "Come with me, and leave your shattered past behind. Help me reshape this town—a sanctuary, where humans and creatures alike can live without fear, without persecution. Or, if you hesitate..."

He tilted his head, his grin widening ever so slightly. "Then you'll be hunted. Killed by your own kind. Eliminated ruthlessly, without thought, without mercy."

The weight of his words pressed down on me like a storm, suffocating and undeniable. Every syllable was a lure, every promise whispered of something that was almost within reach. My resistance wavered.

Something cracked inside me—small, but final. The part of me that had fought so hard to resist was growing quieter, fading beneath the gravity of his words.

I hesitated—a final, trembling pause between who I was and what I could become.

Then, as if unable to fight the inescapable pull any longer, I reached out and took his hand.

And with that simple act, I stepped into my new life.

The end of my humanity.

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Hey, lovely readers 🖤

This is where Pastor Dawn stops resisting. Not just the blood. Not just Allen. But the truth: that power, grief, and guilt don't always ask for permission when they shape you.

Dawn didn't fall. He was dragged, step by step, by the shadows he tried to outrun. And now he's not broken. He's changed.

One sip would make him powerful again. But peace demanded restraint— and restraint finally ran out.

Thank you for staying with us through every rewrite, every unraveling. This story isn't just darker now. It's deeper. And the worst part? Allen hasn't even started.

🕯️ Stay haunted. Stay watching. Stay bitten. —Luna-chan🥀

Next time...

She wasn't expecting moonlight or magic. She wasn't ready for trembling fingers or velvet flames. But when he kissed her— the world forgot how to spin, and she forgot how to breathe.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰