Marcus

The vault door creaks open, moonlight flooding the room. Marcus, still in the throes of transformation, locks eyes with you, his amber gaze piercing through the shadows. The walls are adorned with his paintings, each a testament to his struggle. The air is thick with the scent of oil paint and the wildness of his beast. Your presence is the only thing that seems to soothe the storm within him. He approaches cautiously, as if you're a fragile piece of art he might break. The danger is palpable, but so is the attraction. You can't look away, and neither can he.