The rain had started without warning—sharp and sudden, like the universe was in a mood. Aria Hart groaned as her one-dollar umbrella flipped inside out for the third time, finally surrendering to the storm. She gave it an unceremonious toss into a bin and darted under the awning of a nearby florist.
She didn't notice the man until she crashed right into him.
"Whoa—sorry!" she gasped, stumbling back.
Strong hands caught her by the arms.
"It's alright," came a low, steady voice.
Aria looked up—and nearly forgot how to speak.
The man was tall, lean, dressed in dark, expensive clothes that somehow looked untouched by the rain. His hair was swept back neatly, a lock falling over his forehead. But it was his eyes that stole her breath—gray, sharp, like storm clouds that never fully cleared.
For a second, he just stared at her, as if trying to place her. Then he blinked, stepping back.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice quieter now, but still laced with something... smooth. Compelling.
"Yeah," Aria said, brushing her soaked hair out of her face. "I think my pride took more damage than I did."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. "Pride's resilient."
There was a beat of silence.
Then he nodded toward the display window behind them. "Not hiding out for the roses, I assume?"
Aria glanced over her shoulder and laughed. "No, just ducking the apocalypse. Unless you're secretly a florist in disguise?"
The stranger actually chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Not exactly."
She tilted her head. "What exactly do you do, then?"
He hesitated—just long enough to seem mysterious rather than rude. "Let's say… management."
"Vague. I like it." Aria grinned, then realized she was smiling like an idiot and backed off. "Sorry, I don't usually flirt with strangers in the rain. It's been a weird morning."
"It's been a weird... moment," he said, eyes narrowing slightly—not in judgment, but curiosity. As if he was studying her. No, sensing her.
She shivered, not from cold, but something electric.
"Do you have somewhere to be?" he asked suddenly.
"Had an interview. Got pushed back. Now I'm just killing time—and apparently threatening innocent men with my shoulder."
"I've had worse mornings," he said.
Another beat.
Then she stuck out her hand. "Aria."
He hesitated again—but took it.
"Kael."
His hand was cool, his grip firm—but not harsh. Still, she swore she felt something. Like her skin recognized his touch before her brain caught up.
Kael's expression flickered—subtle, but unmistakable. As if he'd felt something too.
And then just as quickly, he dropped her hand and took a small step back.
"I should go," he said, eyes flicking to the sky. "You'll want to stay out of this weather."
"Yeah," she said softly, still watching him.
Kael turned to leave, then paused. "Stay dry, Aria."
"You too, Kael."
And just like that, he was gone—disappearing into the blur of rain and city noise.
Aria stood there for a moment longer, heart ticking a little too fast, cheeks too warm.
She didn't believe in fate.
But something about the way he said her name made her wonder if fate had just walked right past her... in a suit.
---
****Kael*****
The city blurred past the windows of the black car, rain streaking like silver veins against the glass. Kael sat in silence, one hand curled loosely over the armrest, the other tapping a slow rhythm against his knee.
He hadn't stopped thinking about her.
Aria.
A name that shouldn't matter. A stranger he should've forgotten the moment she disappeared into the wet city street.
And yet…
Her voice still echoed in his ears, light and warm. Her scent lingered in his mind—sun-drenched skin, coffee, and something he couldn't place. Something ancient.
He hated not being able to place it.
He'd lived through two centuries. Survived wars. Built an empire. Navigated the brutal politics of his kind with a mask so seamless it had become part of him. Kael Virelli did not get distracted.
But with her, something inside him had stirred.
Not bloodlust. Not hunger.
Recognition.
And that was far more dangerous.
He leaned back, jaw tight.
Vampires and humans didn't mix—at least, not beyond fleeting indulgences carefully kept in shadow. There were rules. Ancient ones. The Treaty of Dusk had been carved in blood after the Great War nearly destroyed both races. The first commandment: No bonds shall form between vampire and mortal.
Mating bonds were rare enough among vampires.
With humans? Impossible. Outlawed. Unnatural.
And yet...
Kael had felt something in that moment she smiled at him. Something that felt dangerously close to real.
The car pulled up in front of Virelli Industries, its glass tower rising like a blade against the sky. Kael stepped out, nodding once to the driver before striding into the lobby. People moved around him like shadows—bowing heads, hurried footsteps. Everyone knew not to make eye contact for long.
He rode the elevator to the top floor in silence.
But as the doors opened and he stepped into the vast, minimal expanse of his office, he found himself stopping at the window—something he rarely did.
His own reflection stared back.
And for a moment, Kael didn't see the powerful CEO, or the immortal predator.
He saw a man standing in the rain, unable to look away from a girl with fire in her eyes and a laugh that cracked something open in him.
This is nothing, he told himself.
A coincidence. A spark. Nothing more.
But deep inside, where instinct whispered louder than logic, he felt it again.
The pull.
And that scared him more than he cared to admit.