The night was too quiet.
So quiet that Selene Arkwright could hear the echo of her own steps bouncing off the buildings as she hurried down the narrow street. The city had always been noisy—cars, chatter, even the stray dogs fighting over trash—but tonight, silence smothered everything.
The streetlamps flickered weakly above her, their yellow glow doing little to push back the shadows that pooled like ink in the corners. She hugged her worn bag tighter against her chest, wishing she hadn't stayed so late at the café. Her boss always promised extra pay for covering night shifts, but no amount of money made this late walk home worth it.
"Three more blocks," she whispered to herself, her breath fogging faintly in the cool air.
The wind whistled past, rattling a loose sign above a boarded-up shop. Selene's pace quickened. She hated walking alone this late, but there was no other way.
Then, it came.
That strange, crawling sensation at the back of her neck. The prickle of being watched.
Selene froze. Her eyes darted around the deserted street, but saw nothing—only the distorted shadows of lamp posts stretching like long skeletal fingers.
"Get a grip," she muttered. "It's just your imagination."
But her body wasn't convinced. Her heart pounded harder, her palms growing clammy. She forced herself to keep moving, though every nerve screamed for her to turn back.
And then she saw him.
At first, she thought it was just a man passed out against the wall of a narrow alley up ahead. His body slumped unnaturally, one arm limp at his side. But when she stepped closer, she saw the dark stains pooling beneath him. Blood.
Selene's breath caught.
Her instincts screamed—Run. Pretend you never saw this.
But her feet disobeyed. Something about him made her pause. Even from a distance, she could see that his frame was tall, broad-shouldered. His posture was wrong—wounded, yes, but not weak. His presence was… magnetic.
"Hey," she called softly, her voice trembling. "Are you… okay?"
The figure stirred. Slowly, his head lifted.
And Selene forgot how to breathe.
He was beautiful. Not in a normal way, not like the men she saw at the café or on the train. No, this was the kind of beauty that was dangerous, unnatural. His skin was pale, flawless, almost glowing under the broken streetlight. Raven-black hair fell across a face carved sharp enough to wound. But it was his eyes that trapped her—glowing faintly crimson, as though embers smoldered behind them.
Her stomach twisted. No man should look like this—bleeding out, yet terrifyingly perfect.
"Don't." His voice was low, hoarse, but commanding. "Don't come closer."
Selene stopped dead in her tracks. His tone wasn't desperate. It was a warning.
Still, her feet shuffled forward, as if caught in invisible strings.
"You're hurt," she whispered, eyes darting to the blood at his side. "You… you need help."
A strange smile tugged at his lips, faint and broken. "Help?" He laughed softly, bitterly. "Do you even know what I am?"
Selene swallowed hard. "You're human—"
The words died in her throat as he moved.
One moment he was slumped against the wall. The next, he was in front of her, his hand slamming against the brick beside her head, trapping her in place.
Selene gasped, the air punched out of her lungs. She hadn't even seen him move. He was just there, as if the shadows themselves had carried him forward.
Her back pressed against the cold wall, his presence overwhelming her senses. The heat of his body. The iron tang of blood mixed with something darker, sweeter.
His crimson gaze bore into hers, unblinking, relentless.
"You shouldn't have found me." His words were a whisper against her ear, low enough to make her shiver.
Selene trembled. "L-Let me go!" She pushed against his chest, but it was like pushing against stone.
The man tilted his head, studying her. Then he inhaled deeply, as though breathing her in. A dark sound rumbled in his chest.
"Your scent…" His voice roughened, hungry. "It's intoxicating."
Her stomach flipped, dread and something hotter tangling together.
Before she could cry out, he lowered his head, lips grazing her throat. Selene froze, every muscle locking as sharp teeth scraped lightly across her skin.
"No—"
Her protest turned into a strangled gasp when pain shot through her. His fangs sank into her flesh, sharp and merciless.
Selene cried out, hands gripping his shirt, trying to shove him away. But the strength left her arms almost instantly. Heat surged through her veins, spreading faster than wildfire. It burned, yet chilled. It terrified her—and yet a wave of dark ecstasy made her knees buckle.
Her vision blurred. The world narrowed to nothing but his mouth at her throat, the pull of her blood, the ragged sound of his breathing as he drank.
Then he jerked back.
Crimson smeared his lips, his chest heaving. His eyes widened—not just in hunger, but in shock.
Selene sagged against the wall, her pulse thundering in her ears. "W-What… are you?"
For the briefest second, his expression softened, like her words reached something buried deep inside him. Then it hardened again.
"Mine."
The single word carried weight, final and possessive, slicing through her like a brand.
Darkness clawed at her vision. Her body gave out, but before she hit the ground, strong arms caught her. She felt herself lifted effortlessly, her head lolling against his chest.
Distantly, voices echoed from down the street. Shouts. Harsh, commanding.
"Find the prince!" one voice roared.
"Don't let him escape!" another barked.
The man holding her chuckled darkly, his lips curving into a feral smile. His crimson eyes glowed brighter, fierce and alive now.
"You're too late," he murmured.
And with a rush of wind, the world dissolved into blackness.
Selene's consciousness slipped under, the last thing burned into her mind:
She hadn't just stumbled upon a stranger.
She had been claimed by a monster.
"You shouldn't have found me princess.."He says his grip tightening around her as he disappears into the thin air