Selene Moreau didn't believe in fate until tonight.
The rain came down in heavy sheets, soaking the cracked sidewalks of the French Quarter and turning the neon lights into bleeding rivers of color. Selene shoved her hood back, too drenched to care anymore, her sketchbook clutched protectively against her chest.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
She wasn't supposed to be anywhere after midnight, not in this part of the city where the old stones seemed to whisper warnings and the air pulsed with something not quite human.
But she needed inspiration. Desperately.
Rent was overdue. Her agent was threatening to drop her. If she didn't finish this gallery piece soon, she was screwed.
Selene ducked into a narrow alley, her boots splashing through puddles. She pressed her back to a crumbling brick wall, gasping for breath, as the city's heartbeat slowed around her.
Thunder rolled overhead, and with it…
A scent.
Rich. Dark. Metallic-sweet.
Like danger and desire wrapped into one.
She wasn't alone.
Her gaze snapped upward and there he was.
A man stepped from the shadows like he'd been carved from the night itself. Tall, lean muscle under a black dress shirt that clung to every sculpted line of him. Pale skin, sharp jawline, thick black hair slicked back from a face so beautiful it almost hurt to look at.
And his eyes God, his eyes.
Silver, shimmering in the dark, locked on her like he could taste her fear. Or maybe…something deeper.
Selene froze, every instinct screaming run, but her body, the traitorous thing, stayed rooted to the spot. The air between them thickened, tightened, and twisted into something electric. She couldn't breathe, and she couldn't think.
The stranger tilted his head slightly, like a predator considering his prey. A small, mocking smile touched his lips.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, voice low and accented old world and dangerous.
Selene swallowed hard. "Neither should you."
He laughed, a soft, dark sound sliding over her skin like a caress. "I live here," he murmured, stepping closer. The rain didn't seem to touch him. He moved with the kind of grace that only something else could possess.
Selene edged back instinctively. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her sketchbook slipped from her arms, hitting the ground with a wet slap.
The man crouched, retrieving it, and as his fingers brushed the leather cover, a spark flared between them bright and burning. Selene gasped.
He rose, carefully holding her sketchbook, studying it like it was sacred. When he looked at her again, his silver eyes burned hotter.
"What's your name, little one?"
It wasn't really a question. It was a command.
Selene's mouth opened before her brain could stop it. "Selene."
A slow, wicked smile curved his lips. "Selene," he repeated, like tasting the sound. "Moon goddess."
He stepped into her space, so close she could see the faint pulse at his throat. His scent leather, rain, and something darker, richer surrounded her.
"You're trembling," he whispered, tilting her chin with a single fingertip. His touch burned her skin like branded fire.
"I'm not" she started, but the lie died in her throat. She was trembling. Not from fear. From…something else. Something wild and dangerous and hungry.
The stranger's smile deepened. "My name is Lucien," he said. "Remember it, Selene."
Her lips parted, but before she could speak, a shriek pierced the air. Farther down the alley, two shadowy figures grappled one dragging a woman by the arm, the other towering over them.
Selene flinched. Instinct had her stepping forward stupid, brave, reckless.
But Lucien's hand shot out, catching her wrist in a grip like steel wrapped in velvet. "Stay here," he ordered, voice dropping into something inhumanly deep.
Before she could blink, he was gone — a blur of black slicing through the rain. A hiss. A guttural scream. Then silence.
Lucien returned seconds later, blood splattered across his shirt, his silver eyes glowing with a terrifying light. The woman was gone. Saved, maybe. Or something worse.
Selene backed up, her body slamming against the brick wall. "What…what are you?" she whispered.
Lucien smiled, sharp and devastating. The rain slowed around them. The night held its breath.
He reached out, cradled her face with bloody fingers, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with something almost reverent. "I'm what your soul has been searching for, ma petite," he murmured.
And before she could say a word, before she could think —
Lucien leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a claim. Possessive. Dark. Devouring.
Selene whimpered against him, her hands fisting in his wet shirt, her body arching into his like she'd been waiting for him her whole life. His tongue slid into her mouth, tasting, taking, branding her with heat and power and need. She tasted blood not her own and it should have repulsed her. It didn't. It only made her crave more.
When Lucien finally pulled back, his silver eyes were molten.
"You're mine now," he said softly.
And Selene, lost in the hurricane he'd unleashed inside her, could only nod.
Lucien watched Selene, the rain slicking his hair back from his face. He could taste her on his lips, the sweet tang of fear and something else, something that resonated deep within his ancient bones. He had been searching for her for centuries, a whisper in the wind, a glimpse in a dream. And now, here she was, standing before him, drenched and trembling, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and something akin to…recognition?
He knew what she was. Or rather, what she was destined to be. The blood of the Moreau family ran thick with potential, a dormant power waiting to be awakened. He would be the one to awaken it.
The alley reeked of the pathetic mortals he had just dispatched. They had dared to prey on what was his. A possessive growl rumbled in his chest. He would paint the city red before he allowed anyone to harm her.
He saw the question in her eyes, the dawning horror mixed with a burgeoning desire. He would not lie to her, not entirely. He would let her discover the truth, piece by piece, until she embraced the darkness that lay within her, the darkness that mirrored his own.
He would teach her to control it, to wield it. Together, they would rule the night.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, silver amulet, shaped like a crescent moon. He took her hand, her skin surprisingly soft against his own, and pressed the amulet into her palm.
"Wear this," he commanded, his voice softer now, almost a caress. "It will protect you. For now."
He knew the amulet would only offer limited protection. The real protection would come from him, from the bond that was already forming between them, a bond forged in darkness and destined for eternity.
He saw the fear in her eyes, but he also saw something else: curiosity, a flicker of defiance, a spark of the power that lay dormant within her. He would nurture that spark, fan it into a flame, until it consumed her entirely.
He leaned in close, his breath ghosting across her lips. "Tonight was just a taste, Selene," he whispered. "There is so much more to come."