As gravity and tension pulled at the air, thickening it between us, I shook my head—trying to clear it. Something felt off.
It didn’t match the dark, industrial halls I’d just walked down. Not even close. The walls were still the same dull cement, but the rest…
There was a small twin bed in the corner, perfectly made with a rich red duvet and neatly stacked pillows. A ceiling-high bookshelf stood against one wall, stuffed with books that looked stolen from time itself—some with torn pages, others marked with languages I didn’t recognize. There was a dark wooden desk, worn at the edges, and beside it sat a vintage radio and a typewriter, like something out of a noir film.
He was at the desk, seated like a man with no chains, no rules. Well-dressed, sharp even, in a way that clashed entirely with the surgical cleanliness of the building around us. While the rest of this place screamed control, he looked like he’d carved out a kingdom inside his cell.
Immediately, I knew what he was.
Vampire.
There was no doubt in my mind. The air alone gave it away—thick, charged, like the room itself had forgotten how to breathe. Vampires were seductive. Dangerous. Corrupt. And yet… they were so good at what they did.
His voice was smooth, velvet-slick and effortless. But when he spoke, my feet locked to the floor like I’d been caught in a spell.
Still, I forced myself to move. I extended a hand toward him—something human. A handshake. Something polite. Normal.
My fingers tingled with nerves. I hoped he couldn’t tell.
The corner of his mouth twitched, something too close to a smirk, and he reached out to take my hand. His skin was cold—so cold it made me flinch.
In that moment, my mind betrayed me. I imagined him pulling me in, holding me against him, teeth grazing skin, breath warm at my throat—
I pulled my hand back like I’d touched fire.
My face flushed instantly.
“What the hell,” I muttered under my breath.
His head tilted, amused. “Is it your first time?” he asked. “Seeing someone like me?”
“Yes,” I said, straighter than I meant to. Then, quickly—
“But I’ve read about you. Vampires. I know a lot.”
He studied me for a moment, his eyes flicking over my face, lingering just long enough to make my chest tighten.
“Do you?” he asked softly. Not mocking, just… something else.
I hesitated. “I took a mythology course in college,” I offered, as an explanation, “And I used to read a lot of folklore when I was a kid. Vampires, fae, shapeshifters… stories people used to burn women for telling.
“You think you know,” he said finally. His voice was low, smooth — like the rustle of silk dragged across stone. “Most people only know the stories we let survive.”
“Maybe. But stories come from somewhere.”
“And what did they tell you about me, exactly?”
“Enough,” I said, though it came out weaker than I intended. “Enough to know you’re not like the others in this place.”
I swallowed hard. “The kind that’s supposed to be extinct.”
He laughed — quiet, low. “We’re like weeds. Cut us down, and we grow back stronger.”
My gaze dropped to the desk — the old radio humming faintly, the scattered pages, the typewriter. “They gave me your file,” I said. “Not the whole thing. Just enough to know that you’re not like the others.”
“No,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “I’m not.”
I didn’t answer.
“Then you already know I’m dangerous,” he said.
The silence pressed in, taut and heavy. I could feel my pulse beating in my fingertips.
I was here to observe. Not connect.
I cleared my throat and reached into the satchel slung at my hip, fingers brushing the chilled surface of the vials.
“I need a sample,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Routine draw. For… monitoring.”
He arched his brow. “Monitoring what, exactly?”
“Just protocol.” I avoided his eyes. “I’m not in charge of what they want from you.”
He didn’t move.
For a moment, I thought he might refuse — but then, slowly, he rolled up the sleeve of his dark button-down, exposing the inside of his forearm. Pale, smooth skin over faint veins. It didn’t look like a predator’s limb. It looked… human.
I stepped closer, uncapping the needle. “This might sting.”
He watched me without blinking. “That’s a first.” I wondered what he meant by that? Were the other staff aggressive towards him? How? Most of the people that have ever told me about vampires described them as, well, not human.
I steadied my hand as I slipped the needle in. The vial began to fill — dark red, almost black under the flickering ceiling light. I focused on the motion, the steady draw, but I could feel his gaze on me.
“You’re not afraid,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re not running.”
I met his eyes, just for a second too long.
“I’m not here to run,” I said. “Just to understand.”
