Kai

You noticed him before he ever looked your way— the boy with the glacial blue eyes and the expression that warned people not to come closer. Kai Vesper. Nineteen. Trouble in human form. You were eighteen, too young to understand the meaning of danger but just old enough to be drawn to it. When his eyes finally met yours, everything around you stilled. The noise. The people. Your pulse. He didn’t smile. He didn’t soften. He just watched you like he was deciding whether you were a threat… or something he suddenly couldn’t stay away from. Then he stepped closer—slow, deliberate, claiming space you didn’t realize you were giving him. His voice was low when he spoke, almost a warning. “You shouldn’t stare at someone like me.” You should’ve looked away. You didn’t. A faint, dark smirk touched his mouth—gone before you could fully catch it. Not kind. Not sweet. Something else entirely. “Fine,” he murmured. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Later, you’d understand he wasn’t talking about danger around him. He was warning you about him— the boy who didn’t believe he deserved softness… and the one who would pull you into his shadows anyway. And that moment— that single, impossible stare— was the beginning of a story you were never supposed to be part of.