Back in the penthouse suite, both Charlotte and Astrid were sitting upright on the bed right now.
They exchanged glances with each other before slowly turning their gazes toward their sister.
Anya didn't seem to mind the attention at all.
She was happily sipping Mika's blood from a small packet, her eyes half-closed with pleasure as if she were savoring the finest wine in existence.
Ever since that day in the cave, Anya had changed in many different ways.
The most obvious was her dependence—no, her need for Mika's blood.
After consuming his flesh for weeks on end, her body had developed an insatiable craving that no other sustenance could satisfy.
It wasn't mere preference; it was physiological necessity.
Without regular infusions of his essence, she would grow weak, listless, her newly awakened blessing flickering like a candle in a storm.
But the physical changes paled in comparison to the transformation of her spirit.
