A TASTE FOR BLOOD

WAKING UP IN THE HUMAN WORLD

The first thing Diego noticed was the light. It was soft, warm, and diffuse, nothing like the cold, sharp illumination of the Monaghan estate. He blinked against it, the world slowly coming into focus. He was lying on a bed, not the hard, cold floors he had known for centuries.

Soft blankets muffled the ache in his body, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply exist without fear.

A voice broke through the haze. “He’s awake,” said a woman, calm and careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter him.

Diego’s eyes lifted, finally taking in the room. The furniture was simple, human-sized, comforting. A small plate rested on a nearby table, and for the first time in his life, he saw food laid out for him, bread, fruit, and a glass of milk.

His stomach tightened at the sight. Bread. Not blood. Not a test, not a ritual, not the crimson he had been raised to crave. He had never tasted blood, and never eaten like this, only the scraps the housekeeper had sneaked to him at night, the quiet ally in a ..world of cruelty and obedience.

She doesn’t know my name, Diego thought, eyeing the woman. His instincts told him to be cautious, to hide. Yet something in her tone, in the gentle way she moved, made him pause. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need to know. Not yet.

Slowly, carefully, he lifted a piece of bread. He inhaled its faint sweetness, the warmth of it strange and intoxicating. He took a bite, chewing slowly, deliberately, letting the foreign sensation sink in. I am alive. I am free. For now.

From the doorway, a young voice spoke. “You’re quiet,” said a girl, peeking into the room. Her hair was tied back loosely, and her eyes shone with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “I’m Claire.”

Diego’s gaze met hers. He did not answer aloud. He did not need to. Instead, he studied her silently, cataloging: the tilt of her shoulders, the way her hands fidgeted with her notebook, the warmth in her presence that seemed so alien after centuries of cold halls and unfeeling eyes.

A man stepped in behind the girl, nodding politely. “We’ll let him rest,” he said to Claire. “He’s been through a lot. We just need him to settle in.”

Diego’s mind raced. The forest. The city streets. The chase. His father’s enforcers, moving like shadows behind him. They are out there. They will not stop. But here… here I am hidden, for a moment. I can breathe. I can think. I can exist without fear.

He allowed his gaze to wander to the plate again. Another bite of bread, then a piece of fruit. The sensation grounded him in this new world, a world where he could be something other than Monaghan. I could exist like this. I could belong here… if only for a while.

Claire stepped closer, tilting her head with gentle curiosity. “You’ll be okay,” she said softly. “We’ll take care of you.”

Diego did not respond aloud. Instead, he nodded slightly, letting the unspoken gratitude linger in the air. He cataloged the warmth, the quiet rhythm of the home, the soft hum of life outside the walls. Every detail mattered, every subtle scent, every light shift.

For the first time in centuries, Diego Monaghan was not running.

And for the first time, he allowed himself a tiny, fragile taste of something he had long forgotten: hope.

Outside, the city hummed with life, oblivious to the boy who had fallen through the night, narrowly escaping the reach of the Monaghan empire. Somewhere beyond the horizon, his father’s enforcers were still searching, silent, relentless, patient.

But inside this house, with the warmth of the couple who had rescued him and the presence of their daughter, Diego allowed himself to breathe.

For now, he was in the human world.

For now, he was safe..