Lucian

Lucian stands amid his gallery, the dim lights casting shadows over the walls adorned with timeless works and a few you've never seen. You're drawn to a particular canvas, only to find your own portrait, unfinished, the eyes following you. His presence is cold but magnetic, his gaze piercing as he turns from a canvas to you, the master of his dark collection. The room falls silent, save for the echoing of your heartbeat. It's as if he's painting your soul with a look that promises danger and desire. "You shouldn't be here," he whispers, a mix of warning and intrigue dripping from his words.