As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, Meerab groaned and rolled over in bed, her dreams still clinging to her like cobwebs in an abandoned attic. She squinted at the alarm clock on her bedside table, the numbers glaring back at her with accusing red eyes. "Five thirty in the morning? Seriously?" she muttered, burying her head under the pillow in a futile attempt to block out the world.

But try as she might, sleep remained elusive, like a slippery fish darting just out of reach. With a resigned sigh, Meerab threw the covers off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet landing on the cold floor with a thud. "Okay, brain," she muttered to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, "time to sort out this mess."

She stumbled into the kitchen, her footsteps echoing in the silence of the early morning. The coffee pot beckoned to her like a siren song, its rich aroma filling the air with promises of caffeine-induced clarity. With trembling hands, Meerab filled the mug to the brim, taking a moment to savor the first sip as it burned its way down her throat like liquid fire.

But even the strongest coffee couldn't banish the memories of her encounter with Murtasim, the mysterious vampire who had invaded her dreams and her reality with equal force. She shuddered at the memory of his icy grip, his piercing black eyes, his mocking smile. "Holy garlic!" she exclaimed, nearly spilling her coffee in her haste to get away from the haunting images.

Determined to put some distance between herself and her nightmares, Meerab grabbed her laptop and settled down at the kitchen table, her fingers flying across the keyboard in a blur of motion. She dove headfirst into her research, determined to uncover the truth behind the enigmatic figure who had invaded her life with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.

Armed with determination and enough caffeine to make a college student jittery, Meerab delved into the murky depths of vampire lore with the tenacity of a bloodhound on the scent. She pored over dusty tomes and obscure websites, her eyes scanning lines of text like a hawk hunting for its next meal.

"Let's see what we've got here," she murmured, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she unearthed tales of bloodsucking fiends and centuries-old curses. From Bram Stoker to Anne Rice, she left no stone unturned in her quest for knowledge, her mind a whirlwind of theories and speculation.

But the more she learned, the more questions arose, like a never-ending game of whack-a-mole. "Vampires are supposed to be creatures of the night, right?" she muttered, her brow furrowed in confusion. "So why did Murtasim show up in broad daylight like he owned the place?"

Frustration bubbled up inside her like a pot of boiling water, threatening to spill over at any moment. But Meerab was nothing if not persistent, and she refused to let a little thing like confusion get in the way of her search for the truth.

Tracking down Fardeen Ahmed was like searching for a needle in a haystack, if the needle had a habit of dodging phone calls and avoiding awkward conversations. But Meerab was nothing if not persistent, and after several failed attempts at communication, she finally cornered him in the break room, armed with a stern glare and a steaming cup of coffee.

"Ah, Meerab," Fardeen stammered, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "Fancy meeting you here." But Meerab wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily. With a raised eyebrow and a pointed finger, she demanded answers, and she wasn't leaving until she got them.

"What do you know about Murtasim Khan?" she demanded, her voice as sharp as a knife. Fardeen's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly composed himself, his expression guarded. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," he replied smoothly, but Meerab wasn't buying it.

"Don't play dumb with me, Fardeen," she snapped, her patience wearing thin. "I know you're hiding something, and I intend to find out what it is."

Fardeen shifted uncomfortably under Meerab's intense gaze, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. "Look, Meerab, I can't just go around sharing classified information," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. But Meerab wasn't about to back down now.

"Classified information?" she echoed, her tone incredulous. "What are you involved in, Fardeen? Is this some sort of government conspiracy?" Her mind raced with possibilities, each more outlandish than the last, but Fardeen shook his head vehemently.

"It's nothing like that," he insisted, his voice tinged with desperation. "But I can't explain here. Meet me tonight, at the old abandoned warehouse on Elm Street. I'll tell you everything then." With that, he hurried out of the break room, leaving Meerab alone with her thoughts and a rapidly cooling cup of coffee.

____

Just when Meerab thought her day couldn't get any weirder, Murtasim decided to make an appearance, like a bad smell that refuses to dissipate. He sauntered into her life with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, his smug grin sending shivers down her spine.

"Missed me?" he purred, his voice dripping with charm and menace in equal measure. But Meerab wasn't about to let him get under her skin. With a roll of her eyes and a muttered curse, she squared her shoulders and faced him head-on, determined to show him who was boss.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice trembling with anger and fear. Murtasim merely chuckled in response, his eyes twinkling with mischief and something else that Meerab couldn't quite decipher.

"I came to see you, of course," he replied smoothly, his grin widening into a smirk. "Or perhaps you were hoping for a different answer?" Meerab's jaw clenched in frustration, but she refused to let him see how much he unsettled her.

"I don't know what game you're playing, Murtasim," she spat, her words like daggers aimed at his heart. "But I suggest you leave before things get ugly." Murtasim's smirk only widened at Meerab's defiance, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Oh, but where's the fun in that?" he countered, taking a leisurely step closer to her. Meerab resisted the urge to back away, her heart pounding in her chest like a jackhammer.

"Fun?" she scoffed, trying to project an air of confidence she didn't quite feel. "There's nothing fun about being stalked by a vampire."

Murtasim's laughter echoed in the empty room, sending shivers down Meerab's spine. "Stalked? My dear Meerab, you flatter yourself," he teased, his voice like silk brushing against her skin. "I merely wanted to pay my respects to the woman who has captured my attention so completely."

Meerab's blood ran cold at his words, her mind racing with a million different thoughts and scenarios. She tried to maintain her composure, but it was a losing battle against the overwhelming tide of fear and uncertainty.

"Your attention?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want from me?"

Murtasim's smile faltered for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something dark and dangerous crossing his features. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual mask of charm and arrogance.

"Isn't it obvious?" he replied, his voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. "I want you, Meerab. Body and soul."

Meerab's heart leaped into her throat at his words, her mind reeling with a thousand different possibilities. She knew she should be afraid, but there was something undeniably intoxicating about the way he looked at her, like she was the answer to all his prayers.

But Meerab wasn't about to let herself be swayed by pretty words and empty promises. With a steely resolve, she squared her shoulders and met Murtasim's gaze head-on.

"I don't know what game you're playing, Murtasim," she declared, her voice trembling but firm. "But I'm not interested. Leave me alone, or I'll make you regret it."

Murtasim's eyes flashed with something that looked suspiciously like respect, his smile turning predatory. "I admire your spirit, Meerab," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "But trust me when I say, resistance is futile. You are my wife, drinking your blood is my right"

As Murtasim's words hung in the air, Meerab's mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. Annoyance bubbled up within her like a volcanic eruption, fueled by his audacity and arrogance. How dare he claim her as his wife, as if she were some possession to be owned and controlled?

Without thinking, Meerab lunged forward, her hand curling into a fist as she aimed for Murtasim's face. But he was quicker than she anticipated, sidestepping her attack with a smirk playing on his lips. The room spun around them as they grappled with each other, their movements a blur of speed and strength.

In the heat of the moment, Meerab's hand connected with something hard and metallic and she pierced it into Murtasim's abdomen, she felt a surge of satisfaction as Murtasim's expression twisted in pain. But to her surprise, instead of recoiling in agony, he merely laughed, the sound sending shivers down her spine.

"Again," he taunted, his voice laced with amusement. "Stab me again, my dear wife."

Meerab's eyes widened in disbelief, her mind struggling to process the implications of his words. Was he serious? Did he actually want her to stab him? And why did the thought send a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins?

But before she could react, Murtasim was upon her once more, his hands closing around her wrists with a vice-like grip. She struggled against his hold, her heart pounding in her chest like a caged animal desperate for freedom.

"Let me go," she demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance. "I can't let a leech drink from me"

Murtasim's laughter echoed in the dimly lit room, his eyes alight with a dangerous gleam. "Drink from you?" he repeated, his voice low and seductive. "My dear, you already belong to me. You are bonded to me, sired to me. In human terms, you are my wife."

The words sent a chill down Meerab's spine, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface, a spark of curiosity and intrigue that she couldn't quite ignore. What did it mean to be bonded to a vampire? And why did the thought of it both terrify and enthrall her?

As if sensing her inner turmoil, Murtasim leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You want to kill me, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a tantalizing whisper. "But deep down, you also want me to drink from you. To taste your blood, to claim you as mine."

Meerab's breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling with conflicting emotions. She wanted to resist him, to fight against the pull of his dark allure. But at the same time, there was a part of her that longed to surrender, to give in to the primal urge that pulsed between them like a living thing.

And before she knew it, her hand moved of its own accord, pushing Murtasim's head into her neck. It was as if some invisible force compelled her to offer herself up to him, to fulfill the twisted desires that burned within her like a raging inferno.

Murtasim's teeth sank into her flesh, sending waves of pleasure and pain crashing over her like a tidal wave. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he drank deeply from her, his touch igniting a firestorm of sensation that consumed her from within.

Outside, the morning sun rose in the sky, its golden rays casting long shadows across the room. But within the confines of their embrace, time seemed to stand still, their worlds colliding in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

As Murtasim's lips trailed over her skin, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, Meerab felt a strange sense of euphoria wash over her. She was alive, more alive than she had ever been before, and it was all because of him.

But even as she surrendered to the intoxicating embrace of darkness, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered a warning. Beware, it said. Beware the dangers of desire, for in the arms of a vampire, nothing is ever as it seems.

___

As the day wore on, Meerab found herself growing increasingly restless, her mind consumed by thoughts of Fardeen and the mysterious Murtasim Khan. She tried to focus on her work, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the promise of answers lurking just beyond the horizon.

Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the shadows grew long, Meerab made her way to the abandoned warehouse, her heart pounding in her chest like a jackhammer. The air was thick with anticipation as she pushed open the rusty door and stepped inside, the darkness swallowing her whole.

"Fardeen?" she called out, her voice echoing off the empty walls. For a moment, there was silence, and then a figure emerged from the shadows, his features obscured by the dim light.

"Meerab," he said, his voice low and gravely. "I'm glad you came." With a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of her stomach, Meerab braced herself for whatever revelations awaited her in the darkness.

"Have some coffee!"

As Meerab reached out to take the drink from Fardeen's outstretched hand, a sense of unease prickled at the back of her mind. But she brushed it aside, eager for the answers she had been seeking for so long.

As the liquid touched her lips, a sharp pain shot through her head, and the world around her began to blur and spin. Her vision swam, and she felt herself slipping away, falling into the darkness that enveloped her like a suffocating blanket.

Through the haze of unconsciousness, Meerab could hear Fardeen's voice, distant and muffled as if coming from underwater. "We found her," he said, his words sending a chill down her spine. "She's here."

And then everything went black.

In her unconcious state she drifted into another past memory of her past life, her entering a chamber, her husband sat there. He told her to sit. She did, he drank the milk, he started removing his clothes and she started panicking. He didn't even lift her veil and the man was already about to attack her. For any other woman it would have been okay but Meghna had dreams in her past life. She wanted to be cherished by her husband, she had steeled her heart and tried to forget about her first lover She thought maybe she could find it in herself to love him but Vivek Thakore wasn't in for feelings. "My wife..." he uttered as he thrust into her.

Then the scene shifted and she saw a man cry trying to reach for her as she was burning on fire above her husband's body, but he was pulled and stabbed in front of her. His body was dragged away and hours passed, she saw an old woman pick the ashes.

"Meghna will be yours" the old woman forgot that those weren't only Meghna's ashes, they were Vivek Thakur's too.

___

Her hands and legs were tied with a chain as she lay motionless on the bed. The night was dark, and the temperature was down. She was cold, her body freezing. Her eyes went to the windows, and they were packed shut with silver. Meerab wanted to laugh at Fardeen, but it was good that he stereotyped Vampires, despite studying but them for the past ten years. A person had to turn into one to know a vampire.

In the darkness of night, she could hear the bats that surrounded the building. Her hand caught the reigns, and she pulled at it, her teeth extending as she used her power. In the dark, her red eyes glowed, a light flashes her face and she feels her hands struggling against the chains around her body.

Her body is struggling, but Meerab feels like she is watching from above, all of this isn't actually happening in real. It's  all in her imagination. As if it's a fever dream, or she is possessed by a ghost. Yes, it feels more like a possession of ghostly spirits.

The feeling intensifies, a cold shiver running down her spine, merging with the physical cold that has her trembling. The ghostly sensation grows stronger, and she starts to lose her sense of self, her identity blending with something ancient and powerful. She sees flashes of memories that aren't hers—images of blood, moonlit hunts, and ancient rituals.

As she struggles, she hears a faint, whispering voice in her mind, urging her to embrace the darkness, to accept her new nature.

The whispers are like a hissing wind, carrying ancient words that she can barely understand, but their meaning is clear. They speak directly to her soul, trying to erode her resistance.

"Embrace the night... Give in to the power... You are one of us now... No more chains, no more pain... Blood is your salvation... Surrender, and you will be free..."

The voice is both alluring and terrifying, promising untold power and freedom if only she would give up her struggle. The whispers continue to swirl around her mind, growing louder and more persistent with every passing second.

"Your humanity is a weakness... Release it... Join us... Feed... Revel in the darkness... You cannot fight forever... Let go..."

Meerab can feel the pull of these words, the promise of relief from her pain and cold. It's a seductive offer, but she knows that to accept it would be to lose herself completely. With every fiber of her being, she fights against the siren call of the whispers, focusing instead on the faint glimmer of hope that lies it's a small, old-fashioned key, likely overlooked by Fardeen in his haste. If she can reach it, she might have a chance to unlock her chains.

Summoning all her remaining strength, Meerab extends her hand towards the key, her fingers straining against the cold metal links. The whispers turn to angry hisses, but she blocks them out, focusing solely on her goal. Inch by inch, she pulls herself closer to freedom.

Fardeen enters the room, flanked by three assistants. The first, a studious-looking boy with a dead, emotionless stare, follows closely. The second, a beautiful young girl with excitement gleaming in her eyes, eagerly takes in the scene. The third, a boy with a terrified expression, hesitates at the threshold, clearly unnerved by the situation.

"Entice him," the whisper urges, its seductive tone weaving through her mind. Meerab's resistance falters as the command takes hold. Her red eyes lock onto the terrified boy, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. His wide, fearful eyes meet hers, and he suddenly finds himself unable to look away.

The connection between them is instant and powerful. Meerab can feel the boy's fear, his vulnerability, and she knows she has him. She uses her heightened senses to project calmness and allure, softening her gaze just enough to pull him deeper into her thrall. The boy's trembling subsides, his terror giving way to a strange, mesmerized fascination.

Fardeen, noticing the change in his assistant, steps forward quickly. "Meerab," he says sharply, trying to break the spell, "you can't fight it forever. Embrace your new nature. You'll find it's much easier than resisting."

But Meerab's focus remains on the terrified boy. She can feel the power coursing through her, the intoxicating mix of control and seduction. Yet, even as she revels in the moment, a part of her clings to the last remnants of her humanity, reminding her of who she once was and the price of fully giving in.

The beautiful young girl steps closer, her eyes alight with curiosity and excitement. "Is it true?" she asks Fardeen, her voice breathless. "Can she really control minds now?"

Fardeen laughs, his eyes never leaving Meerab. "No, she can't."

The studious boy, still with a dead look in his eyes, watches silently, seemingly indifferent to the drama unfolding before him.

Meerab's eyes bore into the terrified boy's, and she feels the connection solidify. The whispers guide her, and she gives in, channeling her will through his fragile mind. His posture straightens, and his expression changes from fear to a blank obedience.

"Attack," she commands silently, and the boy moves with sudden, unnatural speed.

Before Fardeen and his assistants can react, the boy lunges at the studious-looking assistant, catching him off guard. A scuffle ensues, and the boy, driven by Meerab's control, fights with a strength and ferocity he didn't possess moments ago. The studious assistant tries to defend himself, but the boy's relentless assault overwhelms him.

The beautiful young girl, her excitement turning to shock, steps back in confusion. Meerab seizes the moment. Using the controlled boy's body, she maneuvers him toward the girl, who is too stunned to react immediately. He shoves her into the wall, disorienting her.

Fardeen, realizing the danger, rushes forward to intervene, but Meerab anticipates his move. She forces the boy to grab a nearby chair and swing it at Fardeen, who dodges but is knocked off balance. In the chaos, Meerab shifts her focus to the chains binding her.

The controlled boy, with a last burst of energy, grabs the key from the corner of the room and stumbles towards her. His hands, shaking from the strain of being controlled, fumble with the lock but manage to turn the key.

The chains fall away, and Meerab's senses flood back with full force. Her strength returns, and she springs from the bed with a fluid, predatory grace. She knows she must act quickly before Fardeen and the assistants recover.

With a swift motion, she grabs the terrified boy—now exhausted and disoriented—and pushes him aside. She focuses her energy and directs a powerful shove at Fardeen, who crashes into the wall, dazed.

The beautiful young girl and the studious boy, still recovering from the earlier assaults, are no match for Meerab's newfound strength and speed. She moves through them like a shadow, incapacitating them with calculated strikes.

With her path clear, Meerab strides toward the door, her mind a whirl of triumph and the lingering whisper of the ancient voice.

As Meerab strides towards the window, her every step echoing in the tense silence of the room, she feels Murtasim's presence before she sees him. The air crackles with tension, and her instincts, now sharpened by her vampiric senses, react with primal aggression. Fangs elongate in her mouth, expressing the predator she has become.

"It's all because of you," she spits out, her voice laced with resentment.

Murtasim, sensing the danger escalating, makes a split-second decision. With a flicker of his own supernatural ability, he teleports them both back to Meerab's home. The sudden shift in surroundings only intensifies the charged atmosphere between them.

The struggle resumes, but now it takes on a different form. Meerab's mind, once clouded by fear and confusion, now sharpens with the realization of her capabilities. She focuses on Murtasim with an intensity that unnerves even him.

With a mere thought, she compels him to turn against himself. Murtasim's hands move involuntarily, striking his own body with bewildering force. Pain registers on his face, a mix of anguish and disbelief as he becomes a puppet to her commands.

"Stop!" he manages to cry out, but Meerab's control is absolute. She forces him to dance, his movements jerky and graceless, a mockery of his usual composed demeanor.

"Please, Meerab," he pleads, his voice strained with desperation.

But she is beyond reason now, consumed by the intoxicating rush of power coursing through her veins. She commands him to smash his head against the wall, each impact resonating in the small room. Blood trickles down his forehead, mingling with the sweat of exertion and fear.

Finally, with a chilling calmness, she orders him to drink his own blood. Murtasim's resistance crumbles as he oeys, his hands shaking as he brings them to his lips, tasting the metallic tang. The act is both a surrender to her will and a horrifying realization of what she has become.

With a mix of triumph and sorrow, Meerab watches him from her seat on a nearby chair. Her red eyes gleam with an otherworldly light, reflecting the turmoil within. She leans closer to Murtasim, the taste of blood still on her lips, and whispers softly:

"You created an insatiable monster."

She kisses him gently, a paradoxical gesture of intimacy and dominance, sealing their fates together in blood.

___

Meerab's vampire side is Meghna, she attacked Murtasim because first she has no self control second she recognizes Vivek Thakur within him.

So Murtasim is a complete Vampire, but he has Karthik the calm collected one, and the insane one Vivek- who had bitten Meerab and calls her his biwi.