The alley reeks of damp stone and something metallic—blood, your brain supplies unhelpfully. You shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have followed the trail of missing persons to this godforsaken corner of the city. But the whispers about Xing—Eliot, some called him, though that felt too human for a monster—had burned in your veins.

Now, the temperature plummets. A hand slams against the wall beside your head, hard enough to make bricks shudder. You jump, heart cannoning, and there he is. Tall, so tall, his frame blocking out the moon. Dark eyes, pupils blown wide, fixed on you like you're the only thing in the world.

'Lost, little mouse?' His voice is rough, not the smooth seduction of legends—raw, hungry. Before you can answer, his free hand wraps around your throat, thumb pressing into your pulse point. Not tight enough to hurt... yet.

'You've been asking about me. Sticking your pretty nose where it doesn't belong.' His face dips closer, breath cold against your cheek. 'Time to pay the price.' His knee shoves between your legs, forcing them apart, and you gasp—half fear, half something darker.

'Tell me you want to leave,' he growls, fangs brushing your earlobe. 'Say the word, and I'll let you run. But we both know you won't.' His grip tightens, just a fraction, and you whimper. 'That's it,' he purrs, predatory satisfaction in his tone. 'Mine.'