Cooper and I follow the winding path underneath the dim, flickering street lights. Our conversation grows increasingly hollow as the night deepens, words exchanged merely to fill the silence between us. The distant sound of traffic fades as we venture deeper into this forgotten corner of the city.
"How much further?" I ask, barely masking my impatience. My fingers brush against the wooden knife concealed beneath my tailored suit jacket.
"Here," Cooper says, gesturing toward a decrepit apartment building. Moss creeps up the crumbling façade like a disease. Deep fissures run through the concrete, nature slowly reclaiming what humans had abandoned. The windows, those that remain intact, reflect no light from within—dark, vacant eyes observing our approach.
"Who the fuck would live here?" I can't help but say aloud. My stomach tightens at the thought of Luca—beautiful, delicate Luca—hidden away in this decaying shell. The building exudes the scent of rot and despair.
"Luca would. It's cheap," Cooper replies with a shrug, as if that explains everything. Perhaps for him, it does.
The entrance door groans in protest as Cooper pushes it open, the sound echoing through the empty lobby. Before he can step inside, the rusted hinges finally surrender their long battle against gravity. The door breaks free, crashing to the floor with a thunderous impact that reverberates through the empty building.
"Well, there goes our surprise entrance," I mutter, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Nothing stirs except dust motes dancing in the faint light filtering in from outside.
Cooper leads me up the stairwell, each step creaking beneath our weight. The walls are lined with graffiti—cryptic messages and crude drawings chronicling the building's slow decay. The air grows thicker as we ascend, heavy with the scent of mildew and abandonment.
"Anyway, what exactly do you need Luca for?" Cooper asks during our climb, a note of wariness creeping into his voice. A hint of shame colors his words—he knows bringing someone to Luca rarely ends well for his friend.
"I need information about an individual who was in contact with him recently," I reply, keeping my voice measured and neutral. The lie flows easily, practiced and polished. Cooper's shoulders relax slightly; he hasn't detected the falsehood beneath my words.
He will never know that by tomorrow, Luca will no longer be in his grasp. A subtle smile forms on my lips as we reach the third floor. Cooper will soon join the ranks of the forgotten—another disappearance that barely warrants a mention in the local news.
We stop before a wooden door marked 311. The paint has long since surrendered to time, peeling away to reveal the weathered wood beneath. A tarnished metal plaque reads: "Luca Park. No solicitors." The letters, once sharply defined, have worn down to barely legible outlines.
I turn to Cooper, giving him one final chance. "If we're here, you can leave now." My tone suggests this is a generous offer, one he should consider carefully.
His face contorts with confusion and anger. "What do you mean? I thought we were going to—you promised. And what are you planning to do to Luca?" His voice rises with each word, echoing down the empty hallway. His posture shifts, shoulders squared, a territorial animal defending what he considers his.
"Calm yourself," I say softly, restraining the urge to end him immediately. "I'm not planning anything untoward. I simply need to discuss private matters with Luca." My patience frays with each passing second in his presence.
"No." Cooper folds his arms across his chest, his stance widening. "I'm not leaving."
"Very well," I whisper, almost regretfully.
I move with precision honed through decades of practice. My hands grip his shoulders, slamming him into the door with enough force to splinter the wood. Before he can cry out, my fist drives into his abdomen. The air leaves his lungs in a silent rush as consciousness abandons him. His body slides down, leaving a smear of sweat against the door.
The impact reverberates through the hallway. I pause, listening intently for any response. Nothing but silence answers.
But then—it comes. The sweet, intoxicating aroma that has haunted my dreams since I first caught wind of it weeks ago. Luca's scent—a complex bouquet of fear, innocence, and something uniquely his own. My nostrils flare involuntarily, drawing in deeper breaths to capture more of that exquisite essence.
I drag Cooper's unconscious form away from the door, positioning him in the shadows at the far end of the hallway. The dim fluorescent lights cast a sickly yellow glow across his features, transforming him into a waxy approximation of humanity.
From within my jacket, I withdraw the wooden knife. Not wood precisely—a special alloy designed to appear harmless to those like me while being brutally effective. The dull blade catches the poor light, reflecting distorted patterns across the peeling wallpaper.
I position myself over Cooper's prone form. The first strike is measured, precise—a surgeon making the initial incision. But as his blood spreads across the floor, something primal awakens within me. The second strike comes faster. The third, harder. Soon, I lose count as my arm rises and falls in a grotesque rhythm.
Twenty strikes? Thirty? Fifty? Each penetration of flesh releases a surge of rage I've carefully contained. How dare this insignificant creature touch Luca? How dare he believe he had any claim? The presumption of it fuels my frenzy.
Cooper's body becomes unrecognizable beneath my assault. Limbs barely remain attached, flesh rendered into shapeless masses. Blood pools around us, soaking into the worn carpet and seeping between the floorboards.
I pause, breathing heavily not from exertion but from excitement. A delicate sound—the soft creak of a door hinge—draws my attention back to room 311.
The door opens just enough to reveal a single wide eye—vibrant green, framed by long lashes and disheveled brown hair. Luca peers through the gap, his slender fingers gripping the edge of the door. His complexion, pale naturally, drains of what little color it had as he takes in the scene before him.
The scent hits me anew—his blood, pumping frantically through his veins as fear courses through his system. The sweet, pure aroma of him washes over me like a wave, drowning rational thought. My body responds immediately, heat spreading through my limbs as desire—both for his blood and his body—overtakes me.
Without conscious decision, I find myself moving toward him. The knife still drips in one hand; fragments of Cooper dangle from the other. My steps are measured, deliberate—a predator approaching cornered prey.
"Well, well, well," I purr, my voice low and smooth as silk. A smile forms slowly, revealing just a hint of what lurks beneath my human façade. I watch with satisfaction as Luca's body freezes at the sound of my voice. His muscles lock in place, the primal part of his brain recognizing the danger I represent before his conscious mind can process it.
I loom over him, savoring the exquisite contrast between us—my height and breadth encompassing his delicate frame. "Luca, is it?" I ask, though I know perfectly well who he is. I've known for weeks. I've watched him, studied him, learned his habits and rhythms. I even knew who Cooper was and deliberately approached him, just for the purpose of killing. "You didn't think I'd forget you, did you?"
I casually drop what remains of Cooper beside me, the wet impact punctuating my question. I reach out, my fingers—remarkably clean despite my recent activity—gently grasping his chin. I tilt his face upward, forcing those magnificent eyes to meet mine.
Luca gasps, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure through my system. His fear is palpable—a living entity between us—yet beneath it lies something else. Something that makes this game so much more interesting. Arousal. Unwanted, perhaps unrecognized, but unmistakably present.
My own desire intensifies in response. The beast within me struggles against its chains, demanding immediate satisfaction. Not yet, I caution myself. This one deserves time. Patience.
Luca takes a step backward. I follow, maintaining our connection, forcing him to retreat into his apartment. The door swings wide, revealing the space beyond—small, cluttered, but meticulously organized in its chaos.
"How do you know who I am?" Luca manages to ask, his voice catching on the words. The slight stammer sends another wave of heat through me. How can a mere human affect me so profoundly? In my centuries of existence, I've never encountered someone whose very being calls to me with such intensity.
My smile widens, and I feel my control slip just enough that my fangs begin to descend, pushing past the artificial ones I wear for camouflage. Damn it, Cain. Control yourself.
The apartment's air is thick with Luca's scent, but now it changes. The fear remains, but mingling with it is the unmistakable aroma of arousal. His body betrays him, responding to the danger I represent with an ancient, confused signal. Fear and desire—so closely linked in the human psyche.
I notice with satisfaction the slight movement between his legs, the involuntary twitch of awakening desire. His face flushes crimson, blood rushing to the surface of his skin in the most enticing invitation.
"Who the hell are you?" Luca finally manages, his voice stronger now—a conscious effort to regain some control of the situation. I can see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between terror and a confused, unwanted attraction.
"Oh," I respond, my voice rising in delight, deliberately allowing my gaze to travel slowly down his body and back up, a visual caress that leaves him shivering. I chuckle softly, aware of my own growing arousal pressing against the confines of my expensive trousers. My focus returns to those extraordinary eyes—wide, alert, alive with emotions I can read like an open book.
I step closer, forcing him deeper into his sanctuary that he will soon have to say goodbye too. The apartment smells of stale coffee and forgotten meals, but beneath it all is Luca's natural scent—dark orchid and sandalwood, unique and intoxicating.
"Does it matter who I am?" I pause, each step forward carefully measured to increase his awareness of my physical presence. The knife still rests comfortably in my hand, the blade catching the apartment's dim light in dangerous flashes. "You'll learn to remember me soon enough."
Panic flares in Luca's eyes. He looks toward the door, calculating his chances. Before the thought can fully form, I move. One hand shoots out, pinning him against the wall with enough force to expel the air from his lungs but not enough to cause damage. My other hand keeps the knife visible but non-threatening, twirling it casually between my fingers—a reminder of what awaits disobedience.
I press my body against his, feeling each rapid beat of his heart through our clothes. Deliberately, I position my thigh between his legs, applying gentle pressure against his growing arousal. The contact draws a strangled sound from his throat—part protest, part involuntary pleasure.
"Please stop!" Luca gasps, his body trembling as conflicting signals race through his nervous system. Heat radiates from him in waves, his eyes reflecting a dangerous mixture of fear and unwanted pleasure. I increase the pressure slightly, establishing a rhythm that matches his accelerating heartbeat.
"Let me go," he pleads, his head falling back against the wall. The movement exposes his throat—pale, unblemished, pulsing with life just beneath the surface. The sight nearly undoes my careful control. In all my centuries hunting humans, none has tempted me like this fragile creature before me.
"I don't think you're going anywhere tonight, Luca," I whisper, my voice carrying both venom and seduction. "I'm just getting started." Malice drips from every word as I continue my methodical assault on his senses.
His body responds despite his mind's resistance. Small, broken sounds escape his lips as I maintain the pressure and rhythm against him. I can see thoughts racing behind those expressive eyes, impossible scenarios and desperate plans forming and dissolving as reality asserts itself.
God, he's perfect. So responsive. So alive.
I increase the tempo of my movements, drawing a startled yelp from him. I feel his muscles tense as he gathers himself for resistance. "Please stop!" The words emerge louder now, an attempt to break through whatever madness has overtaken his home and life.
I laugh softly, the sound rich with dark promise. Rather than stopping, I press more firmly against him, increasing the friction. His body betrays him utterly now, leaning into the contact even as his mind rebels. His slender frame trembles against my broader one, yielding in increments he doesn't even recognize.
"Luca, you're such a perv," I tease, my voice a dark caress. "Getting so excited when I'm just grinding against you. Imagine when I'm actually inside you." The crude words send another wave of crimson across his features, embarrassment warring with unwanted arousal.
I push him more firmly against the wall, my movements becoming more insistent. His heat intensifies, his arousal evident against my thigh. The torture of it must be exquisite—desire warring with fear, pleasure with self-preservation. His erection strains against his clothing, seeking relief I have no intention of granting. Not yet.
I tilt my head, studying him with predatory focus. My lips curl into a smile that belongs to another era—ancient, knowing, hungry. I lean closer, my breath hot against the delicate shell of his ear.
"I told you," I murmur, the words barely audible. "I'd find you." I continue the relentless rhythm against him, watching with satisfaction as his eyes flutter closed, pleasure momentarily overriding fear. His unique scent grows stronger, filling the space between us with an irresistible invitation.
"Oh Luca," I purr against his ear, "you're perfect like this." His breathing hitches at the words, his heart pounding so loudly I can hear it without supernatural aid. The sound calls to something primal within me, awakening instincts I've spent centuries refining.
Shit. I need to maintain control. This one is special. This one deserves time.
"Please stop," he begs again, his voice barely audible as his body trembles in my grasp. The contradiction between his words and his physical response is delicious—mind saying no while body screams yes.
I pause, creating a moment of suspended tension between us. "Luca," I growl, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. "You're all mine now. Mine alone. If I ever catch you with anyone else..." I let the threat hang unfinished, more terrifying for its incompleteness. "I will end you."
My voice drops deeper with each word, a growl rising from depths no human could produce. I nip at his earlobe, allowing my fang to just barely graze the tender flesh. A single drop of blood wells up, touching my tongue with an explosion of flavor so intense it nearly brings me to my knees.
Fuck. In all my centuries, I've never tasted anything like him. His blood sings of innocence corrupted, of darkness recognized but not embraced. It tastes of possibility.
The small sample courses through my system like liquid fire, threatening what little control remains. My vampiric nature struggles for dominance, demanding I take him here, now, completely. I force myself to pull away, creating space between us.
Luca cries out in confusion at the sudden absence of contact, his body sliding down the wall until he sits crumpled on the floor. His face remains flushed, his breathing erratic, his body twitching with unresolved tension.
I stand over him, struggling for composure. A growl builds in my chest, primal and threatening. "Don't even think about running from me," I warn, the words barely human. "If you try to escape, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth. What happens then will make tonight seem like a gentle encounter."
Luca flinches at the threat but nods almost imperceptibly, some part of him recognizing the truth when he hears it. There is no escape. Not from me. Not anymore.
Satisfaction flows through me at his submission. I smile, allowing him to see my fangs fully now, catching the dim light from the single lamp illuminating the room. I reach down, grasping his chin once more and tilting his face upward. Our eyes lock, mine burning with inhuman heat.
Luca pulls away reflexively, a small act of defiance that sends another surge of pleasure through me. Yes, this one has spirit beneath the fear. This game will be worth playing.
I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts before continuing. "Luca, do you know why I hunt?" I ask, curious about his perception. His body freezes at the question, muscles locking in place as the reality of his situation crystallizes in his mind. "Don't worry," I add with false reassurance. "I'm not planning to hurt you... at least, not yet." My smile widens at the thought of what's to come.
He seems unable to process my question, fear temporarily short-circuiting his cognitive functions. I find his confusion amusing, my smile growing as I watch the emotions play across his expressive features.
Finally, Luca finds his voice. "What do you want with me?" The question emerges broken, stuttering, a desperate attempt to understand the incomprehensible. He ignores my earlier query entirely, his mind focusing on the immediate threat rather than philosophical discussions about predation.
Something in his demeanor shifts subtly. He straightens slightly, pulling together fragments of courage to present a less vulnerable front. The transformation is fascinating—this attempt to regain dignity in the face of overwhelming danger. It's both futile and admirable.
My amusement fades as I recognize the need to establish dominance clearly. Luca is mine now, and he needs to understand the new parameters of his existence.
"Luca," I warn, my voice dropping to a venomous growl. "I would watch your tone. You don't want to discover what happens when I'm truly angry." The threat hangs between us, heavy with promise.
Instead of cowering, Luca surprises me. He slaps my hand away from his chin, the contact sharp and unexpected. The action startles me momentarily before amusement returns. Such spirit. Such defiance in the face of certain doom.
"Don't touch me, you fucking psycho," he spits, his voice rising with newfound courage—or perhaps resignation. When one believes death is certain, fear sometimes transforms into reckless bravado.
I feel my eyes flare with rage I can't fully suppress. The beast within me roars at the disrespect, demanding immediate punishment. I force it back, reminding myself that this one deserves patience. He doesn't understand yet. He doesn't know what I am or what I offer.
Luca seems to sense he's overstepped, quickly shifting tactics. "Who are you anyway?" he asks, attempting to redirect my attention.
I allow my features to settle into a mask of controlled menace. "You can call me Cain," I reply softly. "Since you'll be with me until the day you die." A chuckle escapes me at the irony he can't possibly comprehend. Death may come much later than he imagines.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Luca demands, anger temporarily overriding fear. "I'm not staying with you." He pushes himself to his feet, swaying slightly but determined to face me standing. "I don't even know you, so get lost." He steps toward me, either unaware or uncaring of the knife still in my possession.
Brave little mortal.
I watch him with growing fascination, a darker smile forming on my lips. The expression feels foreign even to me—something ancient and predatory taking control. "I'm not leaving, Luca," I say, my voice low but carrying easily through the small apartment. "After all, you're my new plaything."
The words hang between us, heavy with promise and threat intertwined. This is who I am—predator, hunter, death incarnate. And now, Luca will learn exactly what that means.
A moment of silence stretches between us. I can almost see the thoughts racing through Luca's mind, scenarios forming and discarding as he searches for escape. Then something shifts in his demeanor—subtle but unmistakable to one with my experience.
He's forming a plan. How delightful.
I decide to allow whatever scheme he's concocting to play out. It will be more entertaining to let him believe he has a chance before crushing that hope completely.
Luca's posture changes, his shoulders dropping slightly as tension leaves his frame. He's attempting to appear surrendered, compliant. The act is almost convincing—would be, perhaps, to someone less experienced in the art of deception.
I feign surprise, then narrow my eyes with calculated suspicion and interest. Let him believe his performance is working.
Luca looks away, exposing the elegant line of his throat. His pulse beats visibly beneath the delicate skin, a hypnotic rhythm calling to the darkest part of my nature. The deliberate exposure is either incredibly naive or surprisingly cunning—offering what he must suspect I desire most.
My lips part involuntarily, hunger rising as my fangs extend fully. My control slips further with each heartbeat vibrating through the air between us. I take slow, deliberate steps forward, closing the distance he's created.
"Luca," I purr, "you're playing a dangerous game." My voice emerges deeper than intended, roughened by desire. "I hope you know what you're doing." I lean in, feeling him quiver as my breath caresses his exposed neck. Without further warning, I strike—teeth piercing the tender flesh with surgical precision.
His blood floods my mouth, electric and overwhelming. Nothing in my centuries of existence has prepared me for this—the perfect combination of fear, defiance, and unwilling desire creating an intoxicating elixir I could drown in.
As I drink, I release my own pheromones into his system—a biological imperative as old as my kind. The chemicals flow from me into him, creating a feedback loop of escalating arousal. Luca gasps beneath me, his body heating rapidly as the supernatural exchange takes effect.
His blood sings of life and possibility, of futures unrealized and paths not taken. I could drink forever, losing myself in the complexity of his essence.
Luca's mind finally catches up to what's happening. I feel the moment realization dawns, his muscles tensing beneath my grasp. "What the... hell... are you?" he manages, the words emerging strained and breathless as I continue to feed.
I sense his strength ebbing and reluctantly ease my assault. Before I can fully withdraw, Luca summons his remaining energy and pushes against me. I allow the separation, playing along with his perceived victory by stepping back and clutching my stomach as if truly injured.
I wipe his blood from my lips with deliberate slowness, savoring the last traces of his essence while fixing him with a wicked smile. Luca touches his neck, fingers coming away crimson as the full reality of his situation finally registers.
"Good," he spits, the defiance admirable if futile. "It's what you deserve, asshole." He wobbles toward the door, shock and blood loss making his movements uncoordinated.
Luca yanks the door open, voice rising in a desperate plea. "Help!" The cry echoes through the empty hallway, falling on nonexistent ears. No one lives nearby—one reason I selected this location for our first true meeting.
A smirk forms on my lips as I approach the doorway unhurried, watching Luca's frantic search for escape. He staggers toward the stairwell, forcing me to accelerate my plans.
Oh no you don't.
I move faster than human eyes can track, crossing the distance between us in less than a heartbeat. The blunt end of my knife connects with his temple with precision—enough force to render him unconscious without causing permanent damage.
Luca crumples, his body folding in on itself as consciousness flees. I catch him before he hits the floor, cradling his limp form against my chest.
"Time to make you mine," I whisper to his unconscious form. "Completely and forever."
I carry him back into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind us. The night stretches ahead, full of possibilities and promises I intend to keep.
The game has only just begun.