Lucien stood still in the shadows of his penthouse, the city humming far below. But all he could hear was the pulse of blood—loud, insistent, and far too tempting.
He hadn't fed in days.
Not because he couldn't. But because the old hunger was changing—twisting into something more unpredictable. It wasn't just thirst now. It was desire. A craving sharpened by the scent of one very particular heartbeat.
Hers.
Elara Dorne.
He had tasted her fear in the alley. And beneath it—curiosity. The most dangerous kind.
Lucien clenched his jaw. He could still feel the moment he caught the other vampire—Dren—before the leech could sink his teeth into her. A lesser predator. Sloppy. Reckless.
But Lucien had been worse once.
And tonight, he could feel that version of himself stirring again.
Elara sat in her tiny apartment, a towel wrapped around her wet hair. She couldn't focus on the TV or her violin. Her mind kept replaying that moment—those glowing red eyes, the strength, the way he spoke with barely restrained control.
Who was he really?
And why had he looked at her like she was something... forbidden?
Her heart kicked as she pulled up Vale Enterprises on her screen. The name was everywhere—power, wealth, fear. But behind it? A blank wall.
No family. No scandals. No past.
Only whispers.
The man with no reflection.
The devil in a tailored suit.
The king of the night.
She scrolled through photo archives—and paused.
A grainy image from over twenty years ago. A gala. In the background, half-shadowed... the same face. Unchanged.
No. That's not possible.
Lucien poured himself a glass of red wine he didn't intend to drink. His reflection in the glass was a blur. He let out a soft laugh.
"I should've walked away."
But now it was too late.
He could still smell her—violet and rainwater and something else. Something uniquely hers.
He needed to feed. Soon. If he didn't...
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number. One message.
"I want answers. - Elara."
Lucien stared at it, then slowly smiled.
So she's not done with me either.
A part of him hoped she'd run. The other part—deeper, darker—hoped she wouldn't.
Because if she came back...
He wasn't sure he'd let her go again.