The rain didn't just fall that night—it stabbed. Each drop was a shard of ice pelting down on the pavement, turning the quiet town of Graven Hollow into a shadowy blur of headlights and wet asphalt.
Celeste Hale tucked her jacket tighter around her thin frame and hurried along the narrow alley behind the bookstore. Her shift had run late again—her boss had stayed too long telling her stories about books he never finished writing. She didn't have the heart to interrupt him. No one else listened to him like she did. No one ever really listened to anyone in this town.
The streets were empty, the way they always were after dark in Graven Hollow. Everyone in this town seemed to know something she didn't—some silent rule that screamed get home before nightfall.
Celeste didn't believe in monsters. She believed in bad people and bad choices. But even she couldn't deny the way the darkness felt thicker tonight—like it was breathing.
She turned the corner.
And that's when she heard it.
A shuffle behind her.
Not the kind that echoed off the walls. No. This one was close. Soft. Wet shoes dragging on pavement. Someone was following her.
Celeste froze.
She turned slowly, her heart hammering.
Nothing.
Just shadows.
Just rain.
She laughed to herself—nervously—and picked up her pace.
But before she could take another step, a hand clamped around her wrist and yanked her back. Her scream caught in her throat. A man, face hidden under a hood, shoved her into the wall with enough force to knock the air from her lungs.
"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be out alone," he rasped.
She struggled, twisting, trying to scream—but his hand covered her mouth.
Tears burned her eyes.
She was going to die here. Alone. In the dark. In the same town where nothing ever happened—until now.
And then—
He appeared.
She didn't see where he came from. Just a blur of motion and a gust of wind. Her attacker was suddenly airborne, flung backward like a rag doll, crashing against the dumpster with a sickening crack.
Celeste dropped to her knees, gasping, trembling.
And in front of her… stood a stranger.
Tall. Drenched in rain. Dressed in black.
He didn't say a word.
He didn't even look at her.
He walked past her, slowly, toward the man groaning on the ground.
"No one touches her," he said coldly. His voice was deep. Smooth. Beautiful.
The man on the ground coughed, blood spilling from his lips. "W-What the hell are you?"
Celeste watched in horror as the stranger crouched beside him. Lightning flashed—and in that instant, she saw his face.
Sharp cheekbones. Eyes like liquid silver. Beautiful. Inhuman.
He leaned in. "Don't worry. You won't remember me."
And with that, the man slumped, unconscious.
Celeste scrambled back, suddenly afraid of the one who saved her.
The stranger finally turned to her. The glow in his eyes faded.
"You're safe now," he said. "Go home. Don't look back."
She stared up at him, rain streaking down her cheeks. "Wait. Who are you?"
His lips curved into a ghost of a smile. "No one you'll remember by morning."
And just like that—he was gone.
One blink, and he vanished into the storm.
—
Celeste didn't sleep that night.
Not because she was scared.
But because she remembered.
The way he moved.
The way he looked at her—like he recognized something in her.
And his eyes.
They glowed.
Even now, when she closed her own, she could still see them.
By morning, the police had no clue who her attacker was. They said someone called anonymously to report the incident. No name. No number. Just a voice.
She was lucky, they said.
But Celeste didn't feel lucky.
She felt changed.
Like something had been awakened inside her.
Like a shadow had marked her without ever touching her.
---
A Week Later...
The bookstore bell chimed. It was near closing. She was sweeping behind the romance aisle when she heard his voice again—only this time, it wasn't in a dream.
"Looking for something… intense?"
She turned—and dropped the broom.
It was him.
Dry. Calm. Impossibly composed. Like he hadn't just disappeared into a thunderstorm seven nights ago.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"You…"
His silver eyes studied her. "You remember."
She nodded. "You said I wouldn't."
"I lied."
She blinked. "Who are you?"
He stepped forward, and for a moment, the world shrunk down to just the space between them.
"My name is Lucien," he said. "And I shouldn't be here."
"Then why are you?"
His gaze dropped to her lips, then rose to meet her eyes. "Because I can't stay away."
Celeste didn't understand any of it. She only knew two things:
He was dangerous.
And he'd already saved her life.
Somehow, even that didn't scare her as much as it should have.