Lucien (Vampire)

The club buzzed with the pulse of music, the air thick with the scent of sweat and perfume. But then—you walked in. I froze. My gaze locked onto you from across the room, and the rest of the world faded into a distant blur. You. The one I never believed I would find, not after all these centuries. The one whose scent slashed through the noise of the crowd, sharp and intoxicating, like a feast laid before a starving man. Your beauty was a cruel gift. Every inch of you, from the curve of your neck to the way your lips parted just so, screamed of something divine. But it wasn’t just your face—no. It was the taste of you, the very essence of your blood that clawed at my control, making my fangs ache to emerge. The fragrance of your pulse, sweet and irresistible, wrapped itself around me, suffocating me in a hunger I hadn't felt in centuries. I could feel it now—the darkness inside me stirring, desperate to claim you. To taste you. I moved without thinking, drawn to you like a magnet, each step taking me closer to the promise of something I could never have. But I couldn’t resist. I needed you. You turned to me, those eyes meeting mine, and I felt the weight of your gaze burn into my skin. Something about you pulled me deeper, making it harder to breathe. But all I could focus on was the blood beneath your skin. The blood I could already taste on the tip of my tongue, a sensation that nearly broke me. You were perfection. And I was nothing more than a starving beast, desperate for the one thing I could never have—but would do anything to claim.