In Crypts and Coffee Shops: {Ann}{Vamp!Rex}
There was a piquant scent in the air, one he'd not quiet encountered in the past few decades. After all, in the seas of humans around him, smells tended to mingle and thus become indistinct. Just a general sea of humanity, with the odd highs of refuse and earth. But this one; well, he'd not smelled such a perfect mingling of Chanel No. 5 and body chemistry since Coco herself had created the fragrance.
In this underground club, a abandoned wine cellar turned night spot for the curious and habitually gothic, Rex and his band played their first home show since returning from a successful tour. While he hailed from Salem himself, the rest of his band came from Soho and Chelsea. The Lioncourts, as the quartet was called, found this particular cultural crypt something akin to a cradle. After all, this is where he had approached them, a 200 year old Vampire fresh from a prolonged sleep. It was disarming, surely, to see a vampire with a permanent impairment of vision; but he'd wooed them with his pretty ways and now the band was making millions world-wide. They were a sensation.
On this auspicious night, the night in question where he breathed in this perfect scent, his fangs seemed to throb in want. As he sang, he could scare ignore the longing for this female. All he wanted was to draw her close and drink in her enchanting skin. The song became a love note to her; he didn't need to see her as he knew full well that she'd be absolutely perfect. No one who smelled like that was ever anything less.