The Jeep hummed beneath his hands as he merged back onto the highway. The gas station lights faded behind him, swallowed by the long stretch of road ahead. Moonlight spilled across the asphalt, pale and cold. Thirty minutes to the Green Inn, the navigation said. For him, time bent easily. Distance meant little.

A few miles later, movement flickered beneath a lone streetlamp.

Two young women stood by the roadside, laughing, their voices light and careless. Short skirts. Bare legs. Glitter catching the moon. They waved as he approached, easy smiles offered to the night.

Hunger stirred—slow and patient.

He pulled over.

“Hey,” he said, lowering the window. His voice was calm, warm, carrying something subtle beneath it. “Where are you headed?”

“The city,” one of them said. “Party night.”

“I’m going that way,” he replied. “Hop in.”

They climbed into the back seat, laughter filling the Jeep. He introduced himself with a name that wasn’t his—one he wore easily. Stacey talked. Molly watched him quietly, curiosity in her eyes.

He didn’t take the road toward the city.

Instead, he let the path drift, trees closing in as pavement gave way to gravel. His voice softened, words slipping past their awareness like smoke.

“You’re both beautiful,” he said.
The laughter slowed. Their movements stilled.

By the time he stopped the Jeep in a moonlit clearing, the air inside had changed—thick, expectant.

“Out,” he murmured.

They obeyed.

Moonlight painted their skin silver as he stepped closer. Desire rolled off them in waves, sweet and bright, and he let it wash over him. He guided them gently, never rushing, never needing to touch much at all. Their attention turned inward, toward each other, as though nothing else existed.

The night itself seemed to lean closer.

He fed quietly, drawing strength from skin brushed against skin, from breathless laughter turning into soft gasps, from the rising heat of pleasure and release. Energy flowed into him—warm, intoxicating—until the ache inside him eased.

When it was over, the girls sagged against each other, flushed and dazed.

“Up,” he said softly.

They stood. He met their eyes one by one, his gaze steady and deep.

“You won’t remember this,” he told them. “You’ll forget the meadow. You’ll forget me.”

The fog settled instantly.

He drove them back to the road and let them out beneath the streetlamp, their confusion fading as quickly as it came. The Jeep rolled away, leaving them behind as if nothing had happened.

Demian merged back onto the highway, the forest stretching ahead of him like an invitation. The hunger was quiet now. His body thrummed with borrowed strength.

And somewhere ahead, in the dark, the inn waited.