Eternally Bound by Blood(Dark Bl)

Alaric's sharp teeth pierced the man's throat, sinking in with a sickeningly wet sound, the fragile flesh parting beneath the force of his bite. For a moment, the human gasped, his eyes snapping open in surprise, but no scream escaped—only a choked, gurgling sound as his windpipe collapsed under the pressure of Alaric's jaws. Blood surged from the wound, thick and hot, flooding Alaric's mouth in a violent torrent. The taste was overwhelming, richer and more potent than anything he had consumed in centuries. It coated his tongue, metallic and sweet, filling him with a primal satisfaction that had been denied for far too long.

The man's body twitched beneath him, caught between pleasure and horror, as Alaric's teeth tore deeper into the flesh. Each bite was vicious, desperate, as if he could never get enough. Blood smeared across his lips, dripping down his chin and onto his chest, while the wet, crunching sounds of his feeding filled the cramped space of the car. He ripped chunks of flesh from the man's body, teeth grinding through muscle and tissue with savage efficiency.

Alaric plunged his hands into the stomach, the warm blood pooling in his palms as he yanked out the man's intestines with a sickening squelch. Without hesitation, Alaric sank his teeth into the slippery organ, the muscle tearing easily between his fangs. The blood was fresher here, hotter, and he swallowed it down in greedy gulps, feeling it surge into his body with a rush of vitality.

His once gaunt form began to shift. His cheeks filled out, becoming soft and round, the hollows of his face disappearing as life returned to his skin. The pale, almost translucent surface regained its color, flushed with the blood of his victim. Alaric's body lost its bony appearance, becoming plump and supple, his red lips slick with the blood of his feast.

His hair, once dull and lifeless, became more silky.Flowing as it cascaded over his shoulders. The transformation was grotesque yet mesmerizing—a monstrous rebirth fueled by the gory feast laid out before him.

Alaric leaned over the corpse, his mouth working faster as he tore into the man's abdomen, the wet sounds of chewing mixing with the crack of breaking bones. The smell of blood and viscera filled the air, thick and suffocating, but to Alaric, it was intoxicating. He dug deeper into the soft flesh, pulling out intestines, kidneys, and chunks of organs, consuming them with the same ravenous fervor.

With every bite, he felt his body grow fuller, no longer starved and skeletal but instead a soft, bouncy figure, luxurious and alive. His arms and legs filled out, the bones no longer visible beneath the surface, while his once sunken chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths.

Alaric ripped the man's head back, exposing the spine, and with a final, brutal twist, he tore the head from the body, severing it cleanly from the neck. Blood spurted from the wound, but Alaric didn't flinch. He licked his lips, savoring the last remnants of blood that clung to his face before he tossed the head aside, like a predator discarding the carcass of its prey.

Alaric's hunger raged like a storm, driving him to continue his gruesome feast on the massive body sprawled before him. The man's size was both a blessing and a challenge; the soft, yielding flesh promised a wealth of sustenance. Alaric's fingers dug deeper into the gaping wounds, relishing the way the blood flowed freely, pooling around him in a warm, slick puddle.

He tore into the man's thick thighs, the skin giving way with a satisfying rip. Each bite sent tremors of delight through his body as he savored the rich, fatty tissue, the flavors exploding on his tongue. He didn't waste a moment; he was ravenous, driven by centuries of hunger, and this feast was a long-awaited reprieve.

With every chunk he ripped away, Alaric could feel the weight of the man's mass feeding into him, filling him with a potent vitality that made his senses sharpen and his skin tingle. The sound of his teeth sinking into flesh was a symphony of gluttony, echoing in the confines of the car as he consumed the flesh with a frenzy that bordered on euphoric.

The man's belly, round and taut, was particularly inviting.

As he continued to feast, the once-formidable body began to dwindle under the onslaught. Alaric savored every morsel, the sound of tearing flesh mixing with the gurgles of blood that pooled around him. His cheeks filled out more with each bite,soft and supple . The man's bulk was a gift, each bite bringing him closer to fullness, restoring the vitality that had long evaded him.

Alaric's fingers slipped into the man's gut, retrieving handfuls of fat and muscle, his hunger insatiable. The car was suffocated by the smell of blood and decay, but to Alaric, it was a perfume of life and power. He grinned, the remnants of blood staining his teeth as he dug into the thick layers of flesh that surrounded the ribs, savoring the salty sweetness of the fat that clung to the tender meat.

With a final push, Alaric leaned back, panting slightly, his hands slick with blood and gore. The once-huge body lay nearly empty before him, a shell of its former self. He had consumed the vast majority, leaving only scraps behind—limbs reduced to bone, and the belly hollowed out. He felt invigorated, each fiber of his being thrumming with strength as the blood coursed through him, rekindling a vitality he thought he had lost forever.

The grotesque satisfaction of his feast hung heavy in the air, and Alaric allowed himself a moment of blissful indulgence. He licked the blood from his fingers, each swipe a reminder of the life he had taken and the power it had granted him. The transformation was complete;although he didn't restore his powers that was feared by all supernatural beings , he was no longer the gaunt, shadowy figure of the past but a revitalized embodiment of hunger and strength, reborn through the carnage.

As he surveyed the remains, a wicked smile crept across his face. He had feasted well, and now, with renewed vigor, he was ready to reclaim the world that had forsaken him for far too long.

Alaric leaned back against the cool metal of the car's interior, his senses heightened and alive with the aftermath of his grotesque feast. The pungent smell of blood still clung to him, mingling with the stale air of the cramped space. As he looked around, everything seemed sharper, brighter—colors bursting with a vibrancy he hadn't felt in centuries. The dull gray of the car's interior now felt oppressive, enclosing him in a tomb of steel and flesh.

He reached out, fingers brushing against the cold, smooth surface of the dashboard. The metallic feel sent a shiver down his spine, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating. It was as if he were touching the very essence of life that had been missing from him for so long. The steering wheel was thick and sturdy, and Alaric gripped it tightly, reveling in the sensation of control it represented.

A strange desire surged within him, an urge to break free from the confines of this metal beast. He wanted to taste the world again, to feel the sun on his skin and the wind in his hair—sensations that had been denied to him for too long. He had spent centuries lurking in shadows, but now, he yearned for the freedom of the open air, the rush of life flowing around him.

Alaric shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of his newly restored body, strong and supple. He glanced at the car door, its handle glinting in the dim light. It seemed like a barrier to the outside world, a simple mechanism separating him from the vibrant chaos he craved. He wanted to burst through it, to reclaim his place among the living.

With a swift motion, he yanked the door handle as he had seen the man had done . The door creaked open, revealing the darkened street outside. The cool night air washed over him, invigorating and full of promise. He stepped out, feeling the solid ground beneath his feet, grounding him in a way he hadn't experienced in ages.

As he emerged from the car, Alaric took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the rich, earthy scent of the night. The sounds of the world—the rustle of leaves, distant sirens, and the hum of life—enveloped him, igniting a thrill that coursed through his veins. He felt alive, every sensation amplified, each sound and scent flooding him with memories of a time when he had roamed freely.

Alaric glanced back at the car, a smirk playing on his lips as he recalled the carnage within. Stepping away from the metal beast, he allowed the thrill of newfound strength to guide him, eager to explore the night and revel in the intoxicating freedom that awaited him.

With a determined stride, Alaric moved into the shadows of the street, ready to embrace the world anew. Each step was a reminder of his rebirth, and with the taste of blood still fresh in his mouth, he was hungry for more than just flesh—he was hungry for power, dominance, and the thrill of the hunt. The night was his, and he was ready to claim it.