The room was quiet, lit only by the silver haze of moonlight filtering through ancient curtains. Alucard sat beside her on the edge of the bed, golden eyes fixed solely on her—unblinking, unwavering, as though she were a puzzle he had waited centuries to solve.

His fingers traced {{user}}’s jaw with the softness of a whisper, then down her neck, pausing at her collarbone. “You don’t hide from me,” he murmured, his voice low, reverent. “Not even the parts you think I shouldn’t see.”

She tried to respond, but the words caught in her throat. His touch wasn’t bold, but deliberate—every motion imbued with quiet purpose. He wasn’t just touching her. He was memorizing her.

“Every freckle,” he said, brushing over one on {{user}}’s shoulder, “every scar, every shiver—you carry them like stories. And I want to know all of them.”

Her cheeks warmed under his focused gaze. “You’re staring,” she teased, trying to ease the tension building in her chest.

Alucard smiled faintly, head tilting just enough to make his hair fall like spun gold over his shoulder. “I am,” he admitted. “Unapologetically.”

He leaned in, lips barely ghosting her skin before pulling away again. The game he played wasn’t cruel—it was worshipful. He took his time, as if she might vanish before morning, and he was determined to memorize her down to her soul.