The scent of blood lingered in the air. It was subtle but unmistakable, laced with the crisp bite of autumn's chill. Selene Valcrest crouched low on the rooftop of an abandoned chapel, her fingers curled around the hilt of her silver dagger. Below her, the ruins stretched in eerie silence, the broken stonework bathed in moonlight. The old chapel had been left to decay long ago, its once-sacred walls now home to things far darker than prayers.
She had tracked the vampire here—a rogue that had left a trail of bodies in its wake. The Order of Lumina had dispatched her to handle it, and she had never failed a mission. She would not fail tonight. Even though she as her problem but this is her job.
A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of something more—cologne laced with spice and something ancient, something forbidden. Selene narrowed her eyes, every muscle tensed as she scanned the shadows. He was close.
A flicker of movement. Fast. Too fast for human eyes to follow.
Selene leapt from the rooftop, landing soundlessly on the stone pathway below. She moved toward the entrance, her boots barely making a sound against the cold ground. She tightened her grip on the dagger, its silver edge gleaming under the moon's watchful gaze.
A whisper of laughter echoed through the ruins.
She froze.
Not the mindless snarls of the feral vampires she had hunted before. This was something else—calm, deliberate, almost amused.
Her pulse quickened.
"You can come out," she called, her voice steady. "There's no point in hiding."
She was ready to attack.
Silence stretched for a heartbeat. Then another.
Then, from the shadows, he stepped forward.
Selene had been prepared for a monster. What she saw instead was something far more dangerous.
Tall and lean, dressed in black from head to toe, the vampire carried himself with a grace that spoke of centuries lived. His dark hair curled slightly at the ends, tousled as if by the wind. But it was his eyes that held her captive—molten silver, like liquid mercury under the moonlight. They studied her with curiosity, flickering with something she couldn't name.
He smirked, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. "A huntress," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "How fascinating."
Selene didn't waver. "You're not like the others."
He inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging a truth only they understood. "Neither are you."
She moved first, lunging forward with her dagger aimed straight for his heart. But he was faster. In a blur, he sidestepped her attack, his movements fluid and effortless. She spun, striking again, but each time, he evaded with ease, as though he were merely toying with her.
Frustration sparked inside her. She had trained for this—years of relentless discipline, countless battles fought. And yet, he made it look like a dance.
Selene feinted left before twisting her body, slashing upward. He caught her wrist mid-strike, his grip firm but not painful. The dagger halted inches from his chest.
"You're quick," he murmured, his voice carrying the faintest trace of amusement. "But predictable."
She yanked her arm free, stepping back, her breath coming out faster now. She wouldn't admit it—not even to herself—but she had underestimated him.
"You should be dead," she said, more to herself than to him. "I don't miss."
His smirk deepened. "Perhaps you've never met someone like me."
Selene clenched her jaw. "Give me a name, vampire."
For a moment, he simply watched her, as if deciding whether she was worth an answer. Then, he exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Lucian."
Something about the name sent a shiver down her spine. Familiar, yet foreign. As if it carried a weight she didn't understand.
"Lucian," she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue like a whispered secret. "You've killed three villagers."
His expression sobered. "Is that what they told you?"
Her grip on the dagger tightened. "Their bodies say enough."
"I didn't kill them."
Selene scoffed. "You expect me to believe that?"
Lucian tilted his head slightly, his silver gaze unwavering. "Do you truly think I'd leave them out in the open, bleeding in the streets? The ones who did… they don't share my restraint."
Her breath caught. The rogue she had been tracking—had she been hunting the wrong monster?
"Lies," she said, though there was a flicker of doubt now, a whisper of uncertainty curling around her thoughts. "You're still a vampire. That's reason enough."
Lucian took a step closer, and for the first time, Selene felt something other than tension between them. It was something deeper. Something ancient. A pull she couldn't name.
He lifted a gloved hand, his fingers hovering near her wrist, just above the sigil of the Order branded into her skin. "You've been taught to see the world in absolutes," he murmured. "Light and dark. Good and evil. But what if it's not that simple?"
She should have driven the dagger into his heart right then.
Instead, she hesitated.
A mistake.
In the next breath, he moved, faster than she could react. Her dagger was wrenched from her grasp, her back colliding with the cold stone pillar behind her. Lucian's hand pressed lightly against her shoulder, pinning her—not with force, but with something else. A silent challenge.
Selene's pulse thundered. Not from fear. From something far more dangerous.
He leaned in just enough that she could see the faintest hint of fangs beneath his lips. "You're not afraid of me," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you, huntress?"
She swallowed hard, refusing to look away. "I don't fear the dead."
His smirk returned, slower this time, almost thoughtful. "Then perhaps you should."
Silence stretched between them, thick with something unnamed. The line between predator and prey blurred, twisted into something neither of them understood.
For the first time in her life, Selene wasn't sure who the real danger was.
Him.
Or herself.
And that terrified her more than any monster ever could.