Blaze POV
The night welcomed me like an old friend—cold, silent, and heavy with promise. This was my kingdom. The dark was my cloak, the moon my ever-watchful accomplice. The city's heart still pulsed faintly in the distance, but here… here in the back alleys behind the train yard, away from the glitter and buzz, it was just me, the shadows, and my next indulgence.
I wasn't just thirsty—I was unraveling.
And the only way to drown out the voices—the cursed bond that clawed at me, the guilt that wore my skin like a second coat—was to become what I was born to be. A nightmare. A predator. A prince of the damned.
My fangs ached as the scent of her hit the air.
Jet fuel. Worn-out leather. Nerves.
Ah. Fresh from the airport. The perfect catch.
They're always disoriented. Always too trusting.
Always alone.
She was young. Mid-twenties, maybe. Dragging a battered suitcase behind her, headphones in, too busy scrolling on her phone to realize she was walking right into hell. Into me.
