Crystalbringer

I'm so freaking sleepy… Three weeks. Three entire weeks of waking up at four in the morning to drag myself to the gym. And no, it's not because I'm a fitness enthusiast or anything—it's because of the ridiculous, borderline insane workout routine I've been stuck with lately.

Brianne has recommended not showing off my strength in public, so here I am, stuck going to the gym at an hour when the only other living soul around is the caretaker. But still, let's be real: lifting two hundred kilos is not something a kid my age should be able to do.

I head over to my usual spot—the bench tucked neatly into a blind corner, out of view from the security cameras. It's perfect for keeping my little "secret" under wraps. Settling in, I grip the familiar barbell, loaded with its usual two hundred kilos, and start my routine: ten reps per set.

But wait a second... something feels off. The barbell seems... lighter? What the hell? Did my body already adapt to this weight? I mean, sure, I've been coming here religiously for weeks, but I didn't expect to see results this fast.

Curious—and maybe a little cocky—I decide to up the stakes. I add more plates, pushing the barbell up to two hundred and fifty kilos.

Now this feels right. Actually, scratch that. Maybe I overdid it.

«Phew... phew...» My breaths come hard and fast as I fight through each rep, my arms burning like they've been set on fire. I can feel my muscles screaming at me, like, What are you doing, you idiot?

«Just... a couple more» I mutter under my breath, gritting my teeth. My arms tremble under the strain. Come on, Ren. You've got this. One more... Just one more...

«Not bad for a fourteen-year-old» a voice comes from behind me, and I freeze. Literally, I'm as stiff as an ice sculpture. My veins? Frozen. Sweat? Yeah, that's cold too, dripping down my forehead like a freakin' waterfall.

I slowly tilt my head back—everything's moving in slow motion, like I'm in one of those fancy action movies. And then, BOOM, there she is. Miss Isabelle Lazar. Or, you know, I think it's her... hard to tell with all that… well, stuff blocking my view. I mean, her face is completely hidden behind those.

She's rocking leggings and this top that is... way too tight in the right places. It's like she's dressed to invade my dreams—and trust me, they've been filled with her for years. Wild, impossible, R-rated dreams.

I try to blink and shake my head, but my brain is not cooperating.

I knew Miss Lazar went to the gym—her body isn't carved from marble by accident—but this gym? Of all the places in the city, she picks this one? And at this hour? Seriously? I didn't even hear her sneak up on me! How's that for bad luck? Or maybe, depending on your point of view, good luck... right? On any other day, if she'd talked to me, I would've put it in my mental calendar and thrown a party every year. But nope. Of course, this is the worst possible moment to run into her.

Suddenly, I feel all the strength just drain out of me. My arms are useless, and the barbell plummets toward my chest. I swear, this thing's gonna crush me into a pancake. I try to push it off, but then—what the hell?! Isabelle, with one arm, one freakin' arm, stops the barbell mid-fall, catches it like it's a feather. Like it's nothing.

I blink, stunned. Her strength... her reflections... am I dreaming? Yes, it must undoubtedly be yet another erotic dream starring her, yet I feel so awake... Could this be one of those famous hyper-realistic lucid dreams they talk so much about? I hope it ends like any other dream where she's in it....

At that thought, an erection is inevitable, and the large bulge protrudes through the light cloth shorts I'm wearing. She mentions a fleeting smile, and her gaze rests for a moment on my hard member, but she pays no attention to it. After all, what interest could a thirty-year-old have in a fourteen-year-old boy? Exactly. None. 

Am I seriously thinking about these dirty things after I've seen her grab two hundred and fifty kilos without any effort? Who the fuck really is this woman?

«You're Ren Volkom, from the third floor, right?» she asks, casually dropping the barbell like it's nothing. Seriously, it's like she just tossed a pillow onto the floor.

«Y-Yes...» I stammer, feeling my face burn. «And you're Miss Lazar, right? We've probably bumped into each other a few times on the stairs» I try to sound as cool and distant as possible. Don't want to look like some creepy stalker.

«No need to be so formal» she says, her voice suddenly softer, warmer. «Just call me Isabelle» She lets out a little smile. «Besides, judging by how your body reacted when you saw me, I think I'm more than just 'the woman you run into on the stairs» And those eyes you've been giving me? The ones full of desire...»

Shit. Busted. I freeze, and my brain goes into panic mode. But... wait. She doesn't seem mad? Nope, not at all. She's, like, enjoying it. This has to be one of those lucid dreams, right? There's no other explanation.

«I mean... in my defense, any guy on Earth would want you. And, well, some women too...» I blurt out, referencing what Clare said at the spa about Isabelle.

«You have nothing to be ashamed of, Ren Volkom…» she murmurs, her tone dripping with seduction. Before I can process her words, Isabelle steps in front of me and, with maddening confidence, lowers herself onto my lap, her thighs straddling me.

This… this can't be real. Her firm, marble-like buttocks press against me, and I'm one heartbeat away from completely losing my mind. My entire body is frozen, caught between panic and a desperate, primal need.

«I know why you want me so badly, Ren» she whispers, her lips curling into a knowing smile. Her fingers trail along my jaw, soft and deliberate, sending shivers down my spine. «Come with me»

Her hand slips into mine, and before I realise what's happening, she's leading me toward the men's changing room. At this hour, it's completely deserted—of course it is. The sound of her footsteps echoes faintly against the tiled floor, and my heart is pounding so loud I'm convinced she can hear it.

Then it happens. With movements so fluid they could belong to a goddess, Isabelle pulls her tight leggings down, then peels off her top. My brain short-circuits as the fabric falls to the floor. She's… she's not wearing anything underneath. Nothing.

Oh. My. God.

She's standing there, completely naked, like some kind of masterpiece brought to life. Her breasts—perfectly full and impossibly firm—leave me breathless. Her hips curve like they were drawn by an artist obsessed with perfection, and her buttocks are so sculpted they could make angels weep. My eyes trail lower, to that faint layer of red hair delicately framing her most intimate area. My chest tightens. I can see everything. Everything.

I'm frozen in place. No doubt about it—I am, without question, the luckiest guy in the world right now.

«Come on, are you planning to stand there gawking all day?» She teases, curling her finger in a come-hither motion as she reaches for the shower handle. The water starts flowing, cascading over her impossibly sensual body, gliding down every perfect curve.

Snap out of it, Ren. Snap out of it!

Shaking off my hesitation, I strip down faster than I ever thought possible. Shirt, pants, underwear—gone in seconds. And there I am, just as naked as she is, my throbbing erection pointing straight at her like a beacon of embarrassment and desire.

My legs feel like jelly as I take a tentative step toward her, my entire body trembling with a mixture of nerves and exhilaration. My stomach is in knots, twisting tighter with every shaky breath. Is this real? It can't be. There's no logical explanation for any of this—Isabelle's superhuman strength, the fact that we're about to shower naked together, or what might happen next.

It has to be a dream. A vivid, impossible dream. And if that's the case, I can't waste a second of it. The alarm clock could yank me back to reality at any moment. I need to make the most of this insanely realistic fantasy.

As soon as I step under the shower, she grabs my arms with surprising strength, pulling me toward her in one swift motion. Her back hits the tiled wall, and before I can even process what's happening, I'm pressed against her. Her large, bare breasts squish against my chest, and the warmth of her body sends an electric jolt down my spine.

Then, with a flick of her head, she sweeps her soaked hair over her shoulder, exposing the curve of her neck.

Wait… what? Does she want me to… kiss her neck?

My brain scrambles to decode the situation, and panic sets in. I've never done this before. Hell, I've never even been close to doing this before. How am I supposed to know what she wants?

I take a shot in the dark, hesitantly sticking out my tongue. Lick her neck, right? That's what people do in the movies, isn't it?

But before I can even make contact, her hand clamps over my mouth.

«This is not what I want, Ren Volkom» she murmurs, her voice soft yet commanding.

Crap. I blew it already, didn't I? We haven't even started, and I've managed to mess things up! But if that's not what she wants… then what does she want?

My confusion only deepens as I meet her gaze.

Her eyes—usually a deep, warm brown—are now an intense, unnerving red, like fresh blood. A shiver runs down my spine as her lips curl into a smile, revealing sharp, predatory canines.

The overwhelming excitement that had consumed me just moments ago starts to wane, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. My heart pounds in my chest, not with desire this time, but with fear.

Her eyes. Her teeth. There's no doubt about it—she's a Blood Crystalbringer!

But… that doesn't make any sense! Brianne told me the first Crystalbringers only started appearing twenty years ago. Isabelle's well over thirty—how can this be possible?

«Do you understand what I want, Ren?» Her voice has dropped to a tone that's as sultry as it is unnerving, like silk wrapped around a dagger.

The answer is obvious. «Well… yeah. But I fed a few days ago. I'm good, I swear! I don't feel the need right now—really, I mean it!»

The words barely escape me before a sharp, excruciating pain blooms in my hips. Her nails—no, claws—dig into my flesh, pulling me even closer, until there's no space left between us.

«You must have realised by now that I possess the Blood Crystal too» she whispers into my ear, her breath sending chills racing down my neck. «Trust me, Ren. Let go. Follow your instincts… and you will gain a strength you can only imagine»

A strength I can only imagine?

The image of her earlier flashes through my mind—lifting that monstrous weight with just one hand like it was nothing while I struggled to keep it from crushing me. She's not just strong; she's something beyond strong. Her ability to master the crystal must be leagues ahead of mine.

And me? I'm just… me. The one holding everyone back. The weak link. The burden to Brianne and the others.

I clench my fists as her words echo in my head. Strength. Power I can't even fathom.

This is my chance. My one shot to stop being dead weight.

«Alright!» I say, swallowing hard. «Let's do it!»

The moment my teeth sink into her neck, a wildfire explodes inside me, boiling through every nerve, every vein. My muscles scream under the pressure, pulling so taut I swear they're about to snap—like they're tearing me apart from the inside out. Pain? Oh, it's there, white-hot and relentless. But strength—this impossible, intoxicating strength—drowns everything else out. It's like her blood has unleashed something primal, something I didn't even know was trapped inside me. I'm alive, I'm reborn, I'm—

No. I'm not myself.

My hands move, but they're no longer mine. I watch as my fingers claim her breasts, greedily squeezing their full, impossible softness. They spill through my grasp, too big, too perfect. My erection throbs, grinding against her—slipping between her thighs where her wetness mixes with the trickling water.

Blood flows—hot and endless—cascading from her neck and over our bodies, painting us in red as the shower water does nothing to wash it away. Her hand tangles in my hair, firm and insistent, and then pushes—hard. My teeth sink deeper, deeper still, ripping into her flesh. My mouth fills with her, muscles and skin tearing, but she doesn't stop me. The water carries away chunks of her, grotesque and crimson, yet it's like watching a miracle: her body rebuilds itself, skin knitting together faster than I can tear it apart.

Is this what Clare meant? The Blood Crystalbringer's regeneration? It's maddening, unbelievable. My wounds take hours—an entire night—to heal, but she—she pieces herself back together in seconds.

I've never seen anything like it. I need it. Her power, her strength—I want it all. If her blood is the key, if she holds the answer... then I'll do whatever it takes. Whatever she wants. Anything.

Because in this moment, as I ravage her neck and press against her heat, all I can think of is how incredible this feels. How unstoppable I could be.

«Now it's my turn... My blood should have made you strong enough to take it» she murmurs, her voice a seductive whisper that curls into my ears. I barely have time to process her words before I feel it—her sharp canines sinking into my neck with an almost tender delicacy.

A shiver tears through me.

We're biting each other now, our bodies pressed so tightly together that it's impossible to tell where she ends and I begin. Her thighs shift against mine, hot and slick, as our most intimate parts grind against each other in a rhythm that feels... wrong. Twisted. Like we're locked in the grip of some sick, depraved ecstasy.

A scarlet cascade flows between us, painting our naked skin, swirling down our bodies and mixing with the shower's warmth. My heartbeat thunders in my ears—God, what is this? This can't be real. This can't be happening.

Shit, what am I doing?!

A flicker of lucidity hits me like a slap, and I stumble back, breaking free. My body screams in protest, my neck still pulsing where her teeth had claimed me. I stagger a few steps away, my chest heaving as though I've run for miles, every breath dragging in jagged and raw. My entire frame shakes—not with desire this time, but with an unfamiliar, gut-twisting fear.

My irises are no longer that unnatural red again. My canines retreat, leaving only my trembling lips.

«W-what happened?» I stammer, the words tumbling out in gasps.

She doesn't answer right away. Instead, she lingers under the spray of the shower, unhurried and utterly unbothered, as though what just happened between us was normal. The last streaks of blood swirl down her body, slipping over curves that shouldn't exist, curves that still burn into my mind with maddening clarity.

After a few moments, she finally speaks, her voice calm: «You have become a true Blood Crystalbringer, Ren. That's all»

«What the hell does that mean?! Explain yourself!» My voice cracks, somewhere between terror and anger.

Her lips curl into a slow, knowing smile—playful, but with something sharper beneath. «My blood has entered your veins» she begins, stepping forward, her fingers sliding through her damp hair. «It has drastically increased your strength and given you greater control over Blood Rage. Consider it your 'blood baptism.' But don't get too excited». She pauses, her tone teasing as she leans against the slick wall. «It's only temporary. A month from now, your body will purge my blood completely. You'll go back to being as weak as you were before... but» her smile deepens, eyes glinting as she winks «When that happens, well... you know where to find me»

A rush of heat crawls up my spine, mingling with the cold sweat still clinging to my skin.

Blood Rage. Brianne had mentioned that. A survival instinct, something the parasitic crystal triggers when I'm on the edge of death, turning me into a killing machine. But why? Why would she care if I got stronger? What does she want from me?

I demand answers, but she only gives me a cryptic reply, her voice dropping to a low purr: «You'll understand when the time comes, Ren»

With that, she steps out of the shower, her movements unhurried and feline, leaving behind only the faint smell of blood and something unnervingly sweet.

When she finally pulls her clothes back on, she turns to me one last time.

«See you soon, Ren Volkom»