Evening fell over Vancouver with a chill that bit straight to the bone, turning the office windows into dull, pewter mirrors.
Liam Carrington closed his laptop, pushed back his ergonomic chair, and exhaled a misty breath; the building's heating system had died hours ago.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor—hurried, tired, mingling with coughs and the scrape of filing cabinets.
It was the kind of day that left a metallic taste in the mouth—repetition, bitter coffee, a fatigue that came not from the body but from the soul.
He slipped his hands into the coat pockets and walked to the vending machine.
As the drink gurgled out, his phone vibrated—one single notification, distinct from the flood of work emails and bank reminders.
The screen lit up with a name that sent warmth rushing through his veins faster than the steaming cup in his hand.
Alessia.
"Would you like to take a walk tonight? There's a square down south, away from the noise. Meet me there at eight."
Liam smiled—recklessly, genuinely. The gray walls seemed to glow. The murmur of the office dissolved; only the message mattered, simple yet alive with promise.
He clenched his fist in a small, boyish victory before replying:
"Of course. I'll be there."
…
Night arrived draped in fog.
The chosen square lay far from downtown's glare, nested among quiet residential alleys where iron streetlamps flickered a tired amber glow.
Bare trees swayed gently, dropping crisp leaves that cracked beneath the feet of passing strangers.
Alessia was already there—perched on the arm of a stone bench.
Her wine-colored coat stood out against the damp cobblestones; her loose hair framed a pale face that seemed to capture the faint light like a mirage.
She wore gloves, her gaze lost among the twisted branches of an elm.
Liam spotted her from the northwest corner.
He rubbed his palms together inside his pockets to hide their trembling. His heartbeat surged. Parking the car, he stepped out, his breath forming translucent clouds in the cold air.
"Alessia," he called, his voice betraying his nerves.
She turned slowly, offering a discreet smile that disarmed him completely.
The lamplight gilded her features, and for an instant, Liam thought he saw sadness flicker in her brown eyes—or perhaps he imagined it.
"You're right on time," she said, stepping down from the bench with a graceful sway. The coat opened slightly, revealing a simple wool dress that hugged her waist. "I thought the cold might scare you off."
"I'd have crossed Antarctica if you'd asked," Liam joked, instantly flushing at his own awkward sincerity.
Alessia smiled softly, saving her voice for deeper confidences.
Without hesitation, she linked her arm through his and began walking along the path that circled the square.
The contact electrified him; beneath the glove, her skin felt cooler than the night air—but rather than discomfort, it brought him a strange comfort, a whisper that said, I'm here, and I'm real.
They walked slowly, their steps crunching on gravel, wind whispering through the branches.
They talked about books, about indie music discovered in late-night playlists, about an old landmark the city planned to demolish. Alessia spoke of it with such nostalgia that Liam imagined her buying candy there as a child, though her accent betrayed something older—European roots.
Whenever he asked a personal question, she would reply with a brief anecdote and skillfully steer the topic back to him, as though she were collecting fragments of his life for some private mosaic.
"Why Vancouver?" he asked, brushing away a stray lock of her hair.
"The sea," she said, gazing at the cloud-veiled sky. "And the winters that smell of wood smoke, even in the city. Some places call to you… and you don't always understand why."
As she spoke, her pupils dilated.
Liam didn't notice—entranced by the melody of her voice. But Alessia felt something different: a pulse throbbing under the exposed skin of his neck, just above the collar of his coat.
Just a little… just this once. No one will know. she thought.
A cold gust carried that faint metallic scent hidden in all warm blood.
Alessia swallowed and looked down at the gravel, steadying her breath so subtly no human ear could catch it.
Liam was talking about a favorite Bradbury story when he realized she had fallen behind, her eyes fixed on his throat. The gleam in them was too intense—almost feral.
He cleared his throat, fumbling for a joke—then it happened.
A bicycle came out of nowhere, tires screeching on wet gravel.
The rider, hood up and earphones in, didn't see them until the last second.
Liam reacted instinctively—his arm wrapped around Alessia's waist, pulling her to his chest as he spun them aside.
The cyclist whizzed by, the freezing wind slapping their faces.
It lasted an instant—a clash of heartbeats—but in that moment pressed against him, Alessia felt an electric surge shoot through her entire being.
Her gift, that uncontrollable empathic sensitivity, flung open the door to Liam's mind.
I wish you knew how much I like you… I'd give my life for you, even though we've barely met.
Since that night, I can't stop thinking about you.
I don't just want your body. I want your life, your future. Maybe you want the same—a home, a family, something real.
The thoughts rushed through her like birds escaping a cage.
Alessia gasped, stunned.
Predatory hunger evaporated—replaced by something sharp and unfamiliar beneath her ribs.
A tear, a rare visitor these last decades, gathered heavy at the corner of her eye.
Liam, still holding her, felt the moisture against his cheek.
He pulled back slightly, alarmed.
"Alessia… did I hurt you? Why are you crying?"
She blinked, startled by her own fragility. The tear slipped down to her lip and vanished with a sigh.
"I just remembered something," she murmured, forcing her voice not to tremble. "A memory—nothing serious."
Liam didn't press her.
He raised a hesitant hand and brushed her cheek, wiping the lingering drop. His fingers burned—but kindly, humanly.
The nearest bench became their refuge.
Alessia sat first, elbows on knees, eyes lost in the trembling halo of the lamplight.
Liam joined her. The silence between them stretched not as emptiness, but as a soft, living thread of truth.
Minutes passed—counted by a cracking branch and the faint jingle of a distant traffic light.
Finally, Alessia spoke.
"I was betrayed," she said evenly. "Once. By someone who swore he loved me. He chose another—not out of love, but for power."
Her breath steamed and vanished. Liam frowned with quiet empathy.
"Then he was an idiot," he said simply. "Because anyone who wouldn't choose a woman like you doesn't understand what it means to have everything—and let it slip away."
Alessia turned toward him, disbelief flickering in her gaze.
The weak light revealed sincerity in his eyes—no pity, no pretense.
"You don't know me well enough to say that," she whispered, but didn't look away.
"Then I want to," he said softly. "I've never wanted to know anyone as much as I want to know you."
The breeze sighed through the trees as if underlining the confession.
Alessia looked down at her gloved hands, weighing the impossibility of what she felt.
Inside her chest, something shattered and reformed into an unfamiliar shape.
Liam isn't my prey… he's the closest thing I've felt to life itself.
The nearby clock tower struck ten, muffled chimes rolling through the fog.
Alessia rose, fastening her coat.
"I should go," she murmured. "The night's getting colder."
Liam nodded, resisting the urge to reach for her.
She took two steps, then turned back, uncertain.
"Thank you… for saving me from that bike," she said, with a tremulous half-smile. "And for listening."
She leaned forward—not for his lips, not yet.
Her kiss brushed his cheek, so faint he wasn't sure it had happened at all.
When he opened his eyes, Alessia was already walking down the path, her silhouette fading into the fog.
He watched until the darkness swallowed her.
Somewhere deep inside, he knew part of his future had just anchored itself to that mysterious woman with dark hair and unknowable eyes.
A block away, Alessia leaned against the brick wall of an old building.
She closed her eyes and breathed—an unnecessary act, yet symbolic.
Her fingers touched her heart, the place where Liam's hand had rested.
This must not change the original plan.
For the first time in decades, she felt the sting of wanting to be more than a shadow.
But reality crept back in like frost—the hunger, dormant but alive; the memory of a husband who had left her for a rival clan's leader thirsting for power; the vow never to love again.
A cold breeze swept across her face.
She shook her head, banishing the memory, hiding the hint of fang that threatened to show.
Then she turned and melted into Vancouver's labyrinth of fog-cloaked alleys.
Back in the square, Liam touched the cheek where her kiss had burned for an instant.
The wind shifted, carrying the smell of wood smoke from the suburbs.
He smiled, not knowing why.
Less than a block away, the darkness carried with it an ancient secret—
and a tear still gleaming, a tear that had brought him one step closer to the abyss,
and yet, somehow, saved him… for now.