Follow Rachel

Prompt: Follow Rachel upstairs and reveal yourself to her while she's alone and **** in the bathroom, releasing even more of your pheromones in the bath room and holding her eyes in your gaze.

Turn 3:

You ascend the stairs behind her, your footfalls silent against the worn carpet. Rachel disappears into the bathroom, and you hear the click of the door—not locked, just closed. Through it, you sense her pulse, rapid and confused. The shower begins to run.

You push the door open. Steam is already beginning to fog the mirror. Rachel stands with her back to you, her sweatshirt pulled over her head, caught halfway. She freezes at the sound of the door, then turns, her arms still tangled in fabric, her bra-clad torso exposed.

For a moment she sees only a shape in the doorway. Then you let the glamour slip, just enough. Your true form emerges from the shadows—skin the color of burnished copper, eyes that glow with an inner fire like coals in darkness, horns that curve back from your temples like a crown. Your body is female in form but perfected beyond human possibility, every curve designed to entice, to seduce, to make mortals ache with want.

"What—" Rachel begins, but the word dies in her throat.

You release more pheromones, concentrated now, filling the small bathroom until the air itself seems thick with desire. Your eyes lock onto hers, and you feel the connection snap into place. Her pupils dilate until the brown of her irises nearly disappears. Her breathing becomes ragged.

"Don't be afraid," you say, your voice like honey and smoke. "I'm here to give you something you've always wanted."

Rachel tries to step back but her legs won't obey. The sweatshirt falls from her nerveless fingers. She's trembling, but not entirely from fear. You can smell her arousal mixing with the steam, sharp and sweet.

"I don't... I can't..." she whispers, but her eyes never leave yours. She's caught in your gaze like a moth in amber.

You take a step closer. Then another. The bathroom is small—there's nowhere for her to go. You reach out and trace one finger along her collarbone, and she gasps as if you've touched something far more intimate. Her skin is flushed, burning hot.

"Have you ever felt this before?" you ask, letting your finger trail lower, between her breasts, down to her stomach. "This hunger? This need?"

"No," she breathes. "Never. What's happening to me?"

"You're waking up," you tell her. Your hand moves to her hip, pulling her closer. She doesn't resist. Can't resist. "You're feeling what you were always meant to feel."

Her hands come up to your shoulders—not to push away, but to steady herself. She's looking at you with something between terror and worship. The shower continues to run, steam billowing around you both, creating a cocoon of heat and moisture.

"I want..." she starts, then stops, unable to articulate the desire burning through her veins.

"I know what you want," you say, and lean in close, your lips nearly touching hers. "And I'm going to give it to you. All of it. Everything you've ever dreamed of in the dark."