Lucien

The dimly lit trauma center at night hums with the whispers of the wounded. Lucien, standing tall and handsome with a white coat draped over his broad shoulders, turns from a patient to meet your gaze. His eyes, a deep crimson, hold a spark of interest. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and something else—blood. His presence commands attention, but his eyes are gentle, a stark contrast to the predator he is. The soft glow of a desk lamp casts shadows on his sharp features as he approaches, the faint scent of blood on his breath, and the room feels charged with an electric tension.