CHAPTER 65: AFTER THE PHARMACY NIGHT

The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the soft rhythm of our breathing gradually returning to normal. Rachel and I were still in pharmacy’s cramped backroom. The air still carried the lingering scent of our sex—a mixture of sweat and desire.

Rachel sat with her back against a stack of medical supply boxes, her knees drawn up to her chest in a pose that somehow managed to be both protective and vulnerable. Her shirt hung loose around her shoulders, only half-buttoned in her haste to cover herself, revealing glimpses of the elegant curve of her collarbone still glistening with sweat. The flush hadn’t completely faded from her cheeks, painting her usually pale complexion in shades of rose and coral that made her look younger, more fragile somehow.

I found myself stealing glances at her when I thought she wasn’t looking, my mind still reeling from what had just transpired between us. Three times. She had orgasmed three times. The final climax had torn such a primal, desperate sound from her throat that I was certain any Infected within a mile radius would have heard it. The memory of that moment—her body arching beneath mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she called out my name—sent another wave of heat coursing through my veins.

Control yourself, I thought, forcing my gaze away from the tantalizing sight of her disheveled appearance. It had been her second time, after all.

Rachel had passed out from the intensity of it, her body simply overwhelmed by sensations she was still learning to navigate.

But God help me, I wanted more. Even now, watching her try to compose herself in the aftermath, I could feel that familiar hunger stirring again. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore—this insatiable appetite that seemed to grow stronger with each encounter. Four women. Four beautiful, unique women in such a short span of time.

Emily, Rachel, Elena and Sydney.

Each experience had been different, special in its own way, and yet each had only served to fuel this growing need within me.

The worst part was knowing that this was just the beginning. To truly stabilize them, to keep the virus from driving them to madness, I would need to be with each of them multiple times. The thought should have been daunting, overwhelming even. Instead, some dark, selfish part of me thrilled at the prospect.

Rachel shifted slightly, and I caught the way she winced—a subtle reminder of just how thoroughly we had explored each other’s bodies. She was sore, no doubt, her body still adjusting to these new experiences. The knowledge that I had been the one to bring her such pleasure, to watch her discover parts of herself she never knew existed, filled me with a possessive satisfaction that I knew I should probably feel guilty about.

"Rachel," I called her, breaking the heavy silence that had settled between us.

She startled slightly at the sound of her name, her head lifting to meet my gaze. "Hm?" The single syllable came out as barely more than a whisper, her voice still rough from our earlier activities, trembling with residual emotion and exhaustion.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, leaning forward slightly. It wasn’t just polite conversation—I genuinely needed to know. According to the White Lady, my... contribution... should have helped stabilize the Dullahan Virus within her system, at least partially.

Rachel took a moment to consider the question, her brow furrowing slightly as she seemed to take mental inventory of her body and mind. "Fine..." She said hesitantly, then paused, her eyes widening slightly as if she was just now noticing something. "Actually, I... I don’t have any more headaches. The constant pressure that’s been there for days—it’s gone. And I feel... lighter somehow. Like there was this weight pressing down on me that I didn’t even realize was there until it lifted."

The relief that washed over me was almost overwhelming. I felt my shoulders relax, tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying flowing out of my muscles like water. "I see..." I managed to say, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face.

So the White Lady had been telling the truth. This impossible, morally complex solution actually worked. I could save them—really save them. A few more sex with them could fully stabilize their condition, and they would be free from the threat of losing their minds to the virus.

But even as relief flooded through me, another concern immediately took its place.

Emily.

Where was she now? Was she safe? Was she experiencing the same symptoms that Rachel had been dealing with? The thought of her somewhere, possibly in pain, possibly fighting against the virus’s effects without any help, made my stomach clench with worry.

The probability of finding her again seemed impossibly small. How could I possibly locate one person in all that chaos without anything to communicate except a short wave radio? And even if I did manage to find her, would I be in time to help?

"Thanks..."

The soft word pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. Rachel was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher—gratitude, certainly, but mixed with something deeper, more complex.

I shook my head, feeling suddenly awkward under her gaze. "You don’t have to thank me. It’s not like I was against doing it to begin with." The words came out more bluntly than I’d intended, and I saw her cheeks flush again. "I mean... I had a very good time, so... you get that?"

It was the truth, even if it sounded crude when spoken aloud. Having sex with Rachel—twice now—had been incredible. If anything, I should have been thanking her.

Rachel’s blush deepened, and she quickly averted her gaze, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.

"We should sleep and leave once we’re awake," I said, stifling a yawn. The exhaustion was hitting me now—the physical exertion, the emotional intensity, the constant state of alertness required just to survive in this world. It was all catching up with me at once.

Rachel nodded, but I could see her shivering slightly despite the relatively mild temperature in the backroom. The concrete floor and thin walls of the pharmacy didn’t provide much insulation, and the night air had a bite to it that seemed to seep through every crack and crevice.

More than that, though, I was still uneasy about staying here too long. Someone had placed that Fire Spitter there deliberately. Which meant someone might come back to check on it, or there might be other dangers we hadn’t discovered yet. But leaving now, in our current state and with night falling, seemed even more dangerous.

"You can sleep here," I offered, gesturing to the space beside me. "It’s cold out there, and we can share our warmth."

The suggestion was practical, nothing more. After what we had shared, there seemed little point in maintaining unnecessary distance. Body heat was body heat, and surviving the night was more important than preserving modesty we’d already abandoned.

Rachel looked at me for a long moment, her green eyes searching my face. Finally, she nodded hesitantly and rose to her feet, moving with careful, measured steps that betrayed her soreness. She settled beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched, her warmth immediately noticeable against my side.

The contact was soothing in a way that went beyond simple temperature regulation. There was something comforting about her presence, her steady breathing, the subtle scent of her skin that lingered beneath the more obvious evidence of our recent activities.

I felt my heart beating fast once again just by that contact by the way.

"Ryan..."

Her voice was so quiet I almost missed it. "Yeah?"

She was silent for so long I thought she might have changed her mind about speaking. When she finally continued, her words came out in a rush, as if she was afraid she might lose her nerve. "You said that because of your power, you couldn’t have any kind of relationship, didn’t you?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I said.

How could I explain it to someone? How could I tell any woman that I cared about her, wanted to be with her, but would also need to be intimate with other women to save their lives? It was an impossible situation, one that no rational person would ever agree to. I’d probably get slapped for even suggesting it—and rightfully so.

"I... I think it’s also my case," Rachel said suddenly, her words so unexpected that I turned to stare at her profile.

"Rachel..."

But she wasn’t finished. She was staring straight ahead, determinedly avoiding my gaze as she continued. "I had sex with you twice now, and we might need to do it a couple more times to entirely stabilize me, right? After that... I don’t think I could be with another man. I don’t think I would even want to be."

I felt my throat constrict, unsure how to respond to such a declaration.

"...except you," she added, so quietly I almost missed it.

I stared at her, but she kept her gaze fixed forward, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as if holding herself together through sheer force of will.

I clenched my fists.

"Rachel... I..." I struggled to find the right words, the ones that might spare her feelings while still being honest. "I’ve been with several women now, and I’m not even sure what I feel toward each of them exactly. Or maybe... maybe some selfish, twisted part of me has started loving all of you because of the intimate moments we’ve shared, because of everything we’ve been through together. So I’m telling you again—I really can’t have a normal, faithful relationship with just one woman."

The words felt like acid in my throat, but they needed to be said. Even if somehow Rachel and I became a couple, I would still need to have sex with Elena again. And any other women who needed to be saved. Each encounter would deepen whatever feelings I had for them, would complicate an already impossible situation. It wasn’t fair to ask anyone to accept that, especially not someone as kind and genuine as Rachel.

"I know..." She replied simply with a small wry smile that I couldn’t understand the meaning. "You really are good person..." She whispered and then she closed her eyes, leaning slightly against my shoulder.

We sat in silence after that, neither of us knowing what else to say. The darkness outside the window grew deeper, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the occasional moan or shuffle that indicated the Infected were still out there, still hunting, still dangerous. But for now, in this small, cramped space, we had found a moment of peace.

As Rachel’s breathing gradually slowed and steadied against me, the tension in her body melting away, I felt my own eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment. The warmth of her head resting on my shoulder and the lingering quiet after everything made it impossible to fight sleep. Eventually, without realizing it, I drifted off with her nestled against me.

Morning came far less gently than I would have liked. I was stirred awake not by sunlight or the warmth of Rachel’s body, but by the guttural snarl of an Infected drifting in from the cracked, dust-stained window of the cramped little room. A sound like that had become our new "alarm clock" lately—one I never quite got used to.

I rubbed my eyes, still groggy, and turned my head. Rachel was still leaning against my shoulder, but to my surprise her eyes were open. She wasn’t sleeping at all—just lying there quietly.

"You’re awake?" I murmured, my voice rough from sleep.

She tilted her head slightly, the corner of her lips lifting. "Mm."

"You could’ve woken me up," I said, suppressing a yawn as I noticed the thin light filtering through the narrow window. "It’s already morning, looks like."

"I only just woke up myself," she replied softly. "Didn’t want to disturb you."

Her voice had that low, morning hush to it, almost tender. She finally lifted her head from my shoulder, brushing strands of messy hair out of her face.

"I see..." I yawned again, pushing myself upright and stretching until my shoulders cracked. "Well, we should probably check in at the municipal office. They might already think we really died," I added with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

Rachel chuckled faintly and reached for my hand when I offered it. Her fingers were warm, delicate, and I couldn’t help but notice how naturally her hand fit into mine. With one firm pull, I lifted her up—but maybe too strongly. She stumbled forward, crashing against my chest.

"S...Sorry..." I blurted, surprised at how easily she’d been pulled into me.

For a brief second, I froze. Was it my imagination, or had I just felt... stronger? My body felt different somehow—lighter, yet filled with energy. Even stranger, when Rachel stood so close, I could swear she seemed smaller than before.

Rachel blinked up at me, her expression flickering between surprise and something I couldn’t quite read. "Ryan..."

"Yeah?"

She hesitated before her eyes flicked across my face, studying me. "Your face..."

My hand instinctively touched my cheek. "What about it?"

"You look... taller," she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost as if she didn’t want me to hear. "And... different." Her cheeks colored faintly as she quickly looked away.

Uneasy, I crossed the room to the small mirror propped against the wall. The glass was cracked, smudged with dust, but clear enough to show me a reflection I barely recognized.

"What the...?"

The face staring back was mine, yet not. My features looked sharper, more defined—as if sculpted rather than grown. My jawline stood out stronger, my cheekbones higher, and my skin... it was paler, smoother. Almost unnaturally so.

I flexed my hands slowly, staring at the way my knuckles tightened. A wave of energy coursed through me, hot and restless, filling every inch of my body. It felt intoxicating—like I could run for miles, fight for hours, tear down a wall with my bare hands.

"What’s happening to me...?" I whispered under my breath.